Николас Спаркс - A Walk to Remember

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.

"You'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.

It was actually my mom's idea to take Jamie out someplace special. A couple of days before, on one of those days Jamie was wearing her hair in a bun, I talked to my mom about the things I was going through.

"She's all I think about, Mom," I confessed. "I mean, I know she likes me, but I don't know if she feels the same way that I do."

"Does she mean that much to you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said quietly.

"Well, what have you tried so far?"

"What do you mean?"

My mom smiled. "I mean that young girls, even Jamie, like to be made to feel special."

I thought about that for a moment, a little confused. Wasn't that what I was trying to do?

"Well, I've been going to her house every day to visit," I said.

My mom put her hand on my knee. Even though she wasn't a great homemaker and sometimes stuck it to me, like I said earlier, she really was a sweet lady.

"Going to her house is a nice thing to do, but it's not the most romantic thing there is. You should do something that will really let her know how you feel about her."

My mom suggested buying some perfume, and though I knew that Jamie would probably be happy to receive it, it didn't sound right to me. For one thing, since Hegbert didn't allow her to wear makeup—with the single exception being the Christmas play—I was sure she couldn't wear perfume. I told my mom as much, and that was when she'd suggested taking her out to dinner.

"I don't have any money left," I said to her dejectedly. Though my family was wealthy and gave me an allowance, they never gave me more if I ran through it too quickly. "It builds responsibility," my father said, explaining it once.

"What happened to your money in the bank?"

I sighed, and my mom sat in silence while I explained what I had done. When I finished, a look of quiet satisfaction crossed her face, as if she, too, knew I was finally growing up.