A Walk to Remember (15 page)

Though our house was larger than most, it wasn’t a palace or anything, and neither the cook nor the maid lived with us because we didn’t have separate living quarters or anything like that. My father had bought the home because of its historical value. Though it wasn’t the house where Blackbeard had once lived, which would have been more interesting to someone like me, it
had
been owned by Richard Dobbs
Spaight
, who’d signed the Constitution.
Spaight
had also owned a farm outside of New Bern, which was about forty miles up the road, and that was where he was buried. Our house might not have been as famous as the one where Dobbs
Spaight
was buried, but it still afforded my father some bragging rights in the halls of Congress, and whenever he walked around the garden, I could see him dreaming about the legacy he wanted to leave. In a way it made me sad, because no matter what he did, he’d
never top old Richard Dobbs
Spaight
. Historical events like signing the Constitution come along only once every few hundred years, and no matter how you sliced it, debating farm subsidies for tobacco farmers or talking about the “Red influence” was never going to cut it. Even someone like me knew that.

The house was in the
National Historic Register
—still is, I suppose—and though Jamie had been there once before, she was still kind of awed when she walked inside. My mother and father were both dressed very nicely, as was I, and my mother kissed Jamie hello on the cheek. My mother, I couldn’t help but think as I watched her do it, had scored before I did.

We had a nice dinner, fairly formal with four courses, though it wasn’t stuffy or anything like that. My parents and Jamie carried on the most marvelous conversation—think Miss Garber here—and though I tried to inject my own brand of
humor
, it didn’t really go over too well, at least as far as my parents were concerned. Jamie, however, would laugh, and I took that as a good sign.

After dinner I invited Jamie to walk around the garden, even though it was winter and nothing was in bloom. After putting on our coats, we stepped outside into the chilled
winter air. I could see our breaths coming out in little puffs.

“Your parents are wonderful people,” she said to me. I guess she hadn’t taken
Hegbert’s
sermons to heart.

“They’re nice,” I responded, “in their own way. My mom’s especially sweet.” I said this not only because it was true, but also because it was the same thing that kids said about Jamie. I hoped she would get the hint.

She stopped to look at the rosebushes. They looked like gnarled sticks, and I didn’t see what her interest was in them.

“Is it true about your grandfather?” she asked me. “The stories that people tell?”

I guess she didn’t get my hint.

“Yes,” I said, trying not to show my disappointment.

“That’s sad,” she said simply. “There’s more to life than money.”

“I know.”

She looked at me. “Do you?”

I didn’t meet her eyes as I answered. Don’t ask me why.

“I know that what my grandfather did was wrong.”

“But you don’t want to give it back, do you?”

“I’ve never really thought about it, to tell you the truth.”

“Would you, though?”

I didn’t answer right away, and Jamie turned from me. She was staring at the rosebushes with their gnarled sticks again, and I suddenly realized that she’d wanted me to say yes. It’s what she would have done without thinking twice about it.

“Why do you do things like that?” I blurted out before I could stop myself, blood rushing into my cheeks. “Making me
feel
guilty, I mean. I wasn’t the one who did it. I just happened to be born into this family.”

She reached out and touched a branch. “That doesn’t mean you can’t undo it,” she said gently, “when you get the opportunity.”

Her point was clear, even to me, and deep down I knew she was right. But that decision, if it ever came, was a long way off. To my way of thinking, I had more important things on my mind. I changed the subject back to something I could relate to better.

“Does your father like me?” I asked. I wanted to know if Hegbert would allow me to see her again.

It took a moment for her to answer.

“My father,” she said slowly, “worries about me.”

“Don’t all parents?” I asked.

She looked at her feet, then off to the side again before turning back to me.

“I think that with him, it’s different from most. But my father does like you, and he knows that it makes me happy to see you. That’s why he let me come over to your house for dinner tonight.”

“I’m glad he did,” I said, meaning it.

“So am I.”

We looked at each other under the light of a waxing crescent moon, and I almost kissed her right then, but she turned away a moment too soon and said something that sort of threw me.

“My father worries about you, too, Landon.” The way she said it—it was soft and sad at the same time—let me know that it wasn’t simply because he thought I was irresponsible, or that I used to hide behind the trees and call him names, or even that I was a member of the Carter family.

“Why?” I asked.

“For the same reason that I do,” she said. She didn’t elaborate any further, and I knew right then that she was holding something
back, something that she couldn’t tell me, something that made her sad as well. But it wasn’t until later that I learned her secret.

Being in love with a girl like Jamie Sullivan was without a doubt the strangest thing I’d ever been through. Not only was she a girl that I’d never thought about before this year—even though we’d grown up together—but there was something different in the whole way my feelings for her had unfolded. This wasn’t like being with Angela, whom I’d kissed the first time I was ever alone with her. I still hadn’t kissed Jamie. I hadn’t even hugged her or taken her to Cecil’s Diner or even to a movie. I hadn’t done any of the things that I normally did with girls, yet somehow I’d fallen in love.

The problem was
,
I still didn’t know how she felt about me.

Oh sure, there were some indications, and I hadn’t missed them. The Bible was, of course, the biggie, but there was also the way she’d looked at me when she’d closed the door on Christmas Eve, and she’d let me hold her hand on the ride home from the orphanage. To my way of thinking there was definitely
something there—I just wasn’t exactly sure of how to take the next step.

When I’d finally taken her home after Christmas dinner, I’d asked if it would be okay if I came by from time to time, and she’d said it would be fine. That’s exactly how she’d said it, too—“That would be fine.” I didn’t take the lack of enthusiasm personally—Jamie had a tendency to talk like an adult, and I think that’s why she got along with older people so well.

The following day I walked to her house, and the first thing I noticed was that
Hegbert’s
car wasn’t in the driveway. When she answered the door, I knew enough not to ask her if I could come in.

“Hello, Landon,” she said as she always did, as if it were a surprise to see me. Again her hair was down, and I took this as a positive sign.

“Hey, Jamie,” I said casually.

She motioned to the chairs. “My father’s not home, but we can sit on the porch if you’d like. . . .”

Don’t even ask me how it happened, because I still can’t explain it. One second I was standing there in front of her, expecting to walk to the side of the porch, and in the next
second I wasn’t. Instead of moving toward the chairs, I took a step closer to her and found myself reaching for her hand. I took it in mine and looked right at her, moving just a little closer. She didn’t exactly step back, but her eyes widened just a little, and for a tiny, flickering moment I thought I’d done the wrong thing and debated going any further. I paused and smiled, sort of tilting my head to the side, and the next thing I saw was that she’d closed her eyes and was tilting her head, too, and that our faces were moving closer together.

It wasn’t that long, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of kiss you see in movies these days, but it was wonderful in its own way, and all I can remember about the moment is that when our lips first touched, I knew the memory would last forever.

“Y
ou’re the first boy I’ve ever kissed,” she said to me.

It was a few days before the
new year
, and Jamie and I were standing at the Iron Steamer Pier in
Pine
Knoll
Shores
. To get there, we’d had to cross the bridge that spans the Intracoastal Waterway and drive a little way down the island. Nowadays the place has some of the most expensive beachfront property in the entire state, but back then it was mainly sand dunes nestled against the
Maritime
National Forest
.

“I figured I might have been,” I said.

“Why?” she asked innocently. “Did I do it
wrong?” She didn’t look like she’d be too upset if I’d said yes, but it wouldn’t have been the truth.

“You’re a great kisser,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze.

She nodded and turned toward the ocean, her eyes getting that far-off look again. She’d been doing that a lot lately. I let it go on for a while before the silence sort of got to me.

“Are you okay, Jamie?” I finally asked.

Instead of answering, she changed the subject.

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked me.

I ran my hand through my hair and gave her one of those looks. “You mean before now?”

I said it like James Dean would have, the way Eric had told me to say it if a girl ever asked me that question. Eric was pretty slick with girls.

“I’m serious, Landon,” she said, tossing me a sidelong glance.

I guess Jamie had seen those movies, too. With Jamie, I’d come to realize, I always seemed to be going from high to low and back to high again in less time than it takes to swat a mosquito. I wasn’t quite sure if I liked that part of our relationship yet, though to be
honest,
it kept me on my toes. I was still feeling off balance as I thought about her question.

“Actually, I have,” I said finally.

Her eyes were still fixed on the ocean. I think she thought I was talking about Angela, but looking back, I’d realized that what I’d felt for Angela was totally different from what I was feeling right now.

“How did you know it was love?” she asked me.

I watched the breeze gently moving her hair, and I knew that it was no time to pretend I was something that I actually wasn’t.

“Well,” I said seriously, “you know
it’s
love when all you want to do is spend time with the other person, and you sort of know that the other person feels the same way.”

Jamie thought about my answer before smiling faintly.

“I see,” she said softly. I waited for her to add something else, but she didn’t, and I came to another sudden realization.

Jamie may not have been all that experienced with boys, but to tell you the truth, she was playing me like a harp.

During the next two days, for instance, she wore her hair in a bun again.

On New Year’s Eve I took Jamie out to dinner. It was the very first real date she’d ever been on, and we went to a small waterfront restaurant in
Morehead
City
, a place called
Flauvin’s
.
Flauvin’s
was the kind of restaurant with tablecloths and candles and five different pieces of silverware per setting. The waiters wore black and white, like butlers, and when you looked out the giant windows that completely lined the
wall,
you could watch moonlight reflecting off the slowly moving water.

There was a pianist and a singer, too, not every night or even every weekend, but on holidays when they thought the place would be full. I had to make reservations, and the first time I called they said they were filled, but I had my mom call them, and the next thing you knew, something had opened up. I guess the owner needed a
favor
from my father or something, or maybe he just didn’t want to make him angry, knowing that my grandfather was still alive and all.