The Wedding - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,28

sounds of the engine faded away, Jane took my arm.

“Can we still make our reservation?” she asked.

I checked my watch. “We’re half an hour late.”

“They should still have our table, right?”

“I don’t know. It was tough to get one in the first place. I had to have one of my professors call for me.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she said.

We didn’t. By the time we got to the restaurant, our table had been given away, and the next available slot was for nine forty-five. Jane looked up at me.

“At least we made a child happy,” she said.

“I know.” I took a deep breath. “And I’d do it again, too.”

Studying me for a moment, she gave my arm a squeeze. “I’m glad we stopped, too, even if we don’t get to have dinner here.”

Surrounded by a streetlight halo, she looked almost ethereal.

“Is there anyplace else you’d like to go?” I asked.

She tilted her head. “Do you like music?”

Ten minutes later, we were seated at a table in the pizza parlor we’d passed earlier. Though I’d planned on candlelight and wine, we ended up ordering beer with our pizza.

Jane, however, didn’t seem disappointed. She spoke easily, telling me about her classes in Greek mythology and English literature, her years at Meredith, her friends, and anything else that happened to be on her mind. For the most part, I simply nodded and asked enough questions to keep her talking for the next two hours, and I can honestly say that I’d never enjoyed someone’s company more.

In the kitchen, I noticed that Jane was eyeing me curiously. Forcing the memory away, I put the finishing touches on our meal and brought the food to the table. After taking our places, we bowed our heads and I said grace, thanking God for all that we had been given.

“You okay? You seemed preoccupied a couple of minutes ago,” Jane commented as she forked some salad into her bowl.

I poured a glass of wine for each of us. “Actually, I was remembering our first date,” I said.

“You were?” Her fork stopped in midair. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I slid her glass toward her. “Do you even remember it?”

“Of course I remember,” she chided me. “It was right before we went home for Christmas break. We were supposed to go to dinner at Harper’s, but we found a stray, and we missed our reservation. So we had dinner at this little pizza place down the street instead. And after that . . .”

She squinted, trying to recall the exact order of events.

“We got in the car and drove out to see the decorations along Havermill Road, right? You insisted that I get out of the car so we could walk around, even though it was freezing. One of the houses had set up Santa’s village, and when you walked me over, the man dressed as Santa handed me the gift that you’d picked out for me for Christmas. I remember being amazed that you’d gone through all that trouble on a first date.”

“Do you remember what I got you?”

“How could I forget?” She grinned. “An umbrella.”

“If I recall correctly, you didn’t seem too thrilled about it.”

“Well,” she said, throwing up her hands, “how was I supposed to meet any guys after that? Having someone walk me to my car was my modus operandi back then. You have to remember that at Meredith, the only men around were teachers or janitors.”

“That’s why I picked it out,” I said. “I knew exactly how you operated.”

“You didn’t have a clue,” she said with a smirk. “I was the first girl you ever dated.”

“No, you weren’t. I’d dated before.”

Her eyes were playful. “Okay, the first girl you’d ever kissed, then.”

This was true, though I’ve come to regret that I ever told her this, since she’s never forgotten this fact and it tends to come up in moments like this. In my defense, however, I said: “I was too busy preparing for my future. I didn’t have time for such a thing.”

“You were shy.”

“I was studious. There’s a difference.”

“Don’t you remember our dinner? Or the drive over? You barely said anything to me at all, except about your classes.”

“I talked about more than that,” I said. “I told you that I liked your sweater, remember?”

“That doesn’t count.” She winked. “You were just lucky I was so patient with you.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “I was.”

I said it the way I would have wanted to hear it from her, and I think she caught the tone