Nicholas Sparks - A Bend in the Road

She nodded seriously. “You said that already.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

Sarah tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. For a reason she couldn’t quite explain, she found his good-bye adorable, almost charming. He was different from the men she had known in Baltimore, the ones who shopped at Brooks Brothers and never seemed to find themselves at a loss for words. In the months following her divorce, they’d begun to seem almost interchangeable, like cardboard cutouts of the perfect man.

“Well, okay, then,” Miles said, oblivious to everything except his need to depart. “Thanks again.” And with that, he backed away in the direction of his car, calling for Jonah as he went.

His last image was of Sarah standing out in the school yard, waving at the retreating car with a faintly bemused smile on her face.

In the coming weeks, Miles began to look forward to seeing Sarah after school with an unchecked enthusiasm he hadn’t experienced since adolescence. He thought of her frequently and sometimes in the strangest of situations-standing in a grocery store while selecting a packet of pork chops, stopped at a traffic light, mowing the lawn. Once or twice, he thought of her as he was taking a shower in the morning, and he found himself wondering about her morning routines. Ridiculous things. Did she eat cereal or toast and jelly? Did she drink coffee or was she more of an herbal tea fan? After a shower, did she wrap her head in a towel as she put her makeup on or did she style it right away? Sometimes he would try to imagine her in the classroom, standing in front of the students with a piece of chalk in her hand; other times he wondered how she spent her time after school. Though they exchanged small talk every time they met, it wasn’t enough to satisfy his growing curiosity. He didn’t know much about her past at all, and though there were moments when he wanted to ask, he held himself back from doing so for the simple reason that he had no idea how to go about it. “Mainly I had Jonah work on spelling today and he did great,” she might say, and what was Miles supposed to say next?That’s good. And speaking of spelling, tell me-do you wrap your head in a towel after you shower? Other men knew how to do these things, but damned if he could figure it out. Once, in a moment of courage supplied by a couple of beers, he’d come close to calling her on the phone. He’d had no reason to call, and though he hadn’t known what he would say, he’d hoped that something would strike him, a bolt from the sky that would imbue him with wit and charisma. He’d imagined her laughing at the things he was saying, being positively overwhelmed by his charm. He’d gone so far as to look up her name in the phone book and dial the first three numbers before his nerves got the better of him and he’d hung up. What if she wasn’t home? He couldn’t dazzle her if she wasn’t even there to answer the phone, and he certainly wasn’t going to have his ramblings recorded on her answering machine for posterity. He supposed he could hang up if the answering machine picked up, but that was a little too adolescent, now, wasn’t it? And what would happen, God forbid, if shewas home but was on a date with someone else? It was, he realized, a distinct possibility. He’d heard a few things around the department from some of the other single men who’d finally caught on to the fact that she wasn’t married, and if they knew, then others certainly knew it as well. Word was getting out, and soon, single men would start descending on her, usingtheir wit and charisma, if they already hadn’t. Good Lord, he was running out of time.

The next time he picked up the phone, he actually got to the sixth number before chickening out.

That night, lying in bed, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

On an early Saturday morning in late September, about a month after he’d first met Sarah Andrews, Miles stood in the fields of H. J. Macdonald Junior High School, watching Jonah play soccer. With the possible exception of fishing, Jonah loved to play soccer more than anything, and he was good at it. Missy had always been athletic, even more so than Miles, and from her Jonah had inherited both agility and coordination. From Miles, as Miles would mention casually to anyone who asked, he’d inherited speed. As a result, Jonah was a terror on the field. At that age, Jonah played no more than half a game, since everyone on the team was required to play the same amount of time. Yet Jonah usually scored most, if not all, of the team’s goals. In the first four games, he’d scored twenty-seven times. Granted, there were only three people to a team, goalkeepers weren’t allowed, and half the kids didn’t know in which direction they were supposed to kick the ball, but twenty-seven goals was exceptional. Almost every time Jonah touched the ball, he took it the length of the field and kicked it in the net.

Truly ridiculous, however, was the burst of pride Miles experienced when watching Jonah perform. Heloved it, secretly jumped for joy when Jonah scored, even though he knew it was nothing but a temporary phenomenon and didn’t mean diddly squat. Kids matured at different rates, and some kids practiced with more diligence. Jonah was physically mature and didn’t like to practice; it was only a matter of time before the others caught up with him.

But in this game, by the end of the first quarter, Jonah had already scored four goals. In the second quarter, with Jonah on the sidelines, the opposing team kicked four goals to take the lead. In the third quarter, Jonah kicked two more, giving him thirty-three for the year, not that anyone was counting, and a teammate added one. By the beginning of the fourth quarter, Jonah’s team was behind 8-7, and Miles crossed his arms and scanned the crowd, doing his best to appear as if he didn’t even realize that without Jonah his team would be getting destroyed.

Damn, this was fun.

Miles was so lost in his reverie, it took a moment for the voice coming from off to the side to register.

“You got a bet riding on this game, Deputy Ryan?” Sarah asked as she walked up to him, grinning broadly. “You look a little nervous.”

“No-no bet. Just enjoying the game,” he answered.

“Well, be careful. Your fingernails are almost gone. I’d hate to see you accidentally nip yourself.”

“I wasn’t biting my nails.”

“Not now,” she said. “But you were.”

“I think you were imagining things,” he countered, wondering if she was flirting with him again. “So…” He pushed up the brim of his baseball hat. “I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Wearing shorts and sunglasses, she looked younger than usual.

“Jonah told me he had a game this weekend and asked if I’d come.”

“He did?” Miles asked curiously.

“On Thursday. He said that I would enjoy it, but I kind of got the impression he wanted me to see him doing something he was good at.” Bless you, Jonah.

“It’s almost over now. You’ve missed most of it.”

“I couldn’t find the right field. I didn’t realize there would be so many games out here. From a distance, all these kids look the same.” “I know. Sometimes even we have trouble finding what field we’re playing on.” The whistle sounded and Jonah kicked the ball to a teammate. The ball shot past him, though, and promptly rolled out of bounds. Someone on the other team chased after it, and Jonah glanced toward his father. When he saw Sarah, he waved and she returned the wave enthusiastically. Then, settling into position with a determined look on his face, Jonah waited for the throw to put the ball back in play. A moment later, he and everyone else on the field were chasing after the ball.