Nicholas Sparks - A Bend in the Road

“How did you find out?”

“The usual way. It just didn’t happen. We finally went in for tests. That was when I found out.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Miles could think to say.

“So am I.” She exhaled sharply, as if she still had trouble believing it. “And so was Michael. But he couldn’t handle it. I told him that we could still adopt, and I’d be perfectly happy with that, but he refused to even consider it because of his family.”

“You’re kidding…”

Sarah shook her head. “I wish I were. Looking back, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. When we first started going out, he used to say that I was the most perfect woman he’d ever met. As soon as something happened that proved otherwise, he was willing to throw away everything we had.” She stared into her wineglass, talking almost to herself. “He asked for a divorce, and I moved out a week later.”

Miles took her hand without a word and nodded for her to continue. “After that… well, it hasn’t been easy. It’s not the sort of thing you bring up at cocktail parties, you know. My family knows, and I talked to Sylvia about it. She was my counselor and she helped me a lot, but those four are the only ones who knew. And now you…”

She trailed off. In the firelight, Miles thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her hair caught fragments of light and cast them off like a halo. “So why me?” Miles finally asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really.”

“I just thought you should know. I mean, before… Like I said, I don’t want it to happen again…” She looked away.

Miles gently turned her face back to him. “Do you really think I’d do that?” Sarah looked at him sadly. “Oh, Miles… it’s easy to say that it doesn’t matter right now. What I’m worried about is how you’ll feel later, after you’ve had the chance to think about this. Let’s say we keep seeing each other and things go as well as they have up to this point. Can you honestly say that it won’t matter to you? That being able to have children wouldn’t be important to you? That Jonah would never have a little brother or sister running around the house?”

She cleared her throat. “I know I’m jumping the gun here, and don’t think that by telling you all this, I expect us to get married. But I had to tell you the truth, so you’d know what you’re getting into-before this goes any further. I can’t let myself go any further unless I’m certain that you’re not going to turn around and do the same thing that Michael did. If it doesn’t work out for another reason, fine. I can live with that. But I can’t face again what I’ve already gone through once.”

Miles looked toward his glass, saw the light reflected there. He traced the rim with his finger.

“There’s something you should know about me, too,” he said. “I had a really hard time after Missy died. It wasn’t just that she died-it was also that I never found out who’d been driving the car that night. That’s what my job is, both as her husband and as sheriff. And for a long time, finding out who’d been driving was all I could think about. I investigated on my own, I talked to people, but whoever did it got away, and that ate at me like you can’t imagine. I felt like I was going crazy for a long time, but lately…”

His voice was tender as he met her eyes.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t need time, Sarah… I don’t know… I just know that I’m missing something in my life, and that until I met you, I didn’t know what it was. If you want me to take some time to think about it, I will. But that would be for you-not for me. You haven’t said anything that could change the way I feel about you. I’m not like Michael. I could never be like him.”

In the kitchen, the timer went off with a ding, and both of them turned at the sound. The lasagna was ready, but neither of them moved. Sarah suddenly felt light-headed, though she didn’t know if it was the wine or Miles’s words. Carefully, she set her wineglass on the table and, taking a slow breath, stood from the couch.

“Let me get the lasagna before it burns.”

In the kitchen, she paused to lean against the counter, the words coming once more.

I don’t need time, Sarah.

You haven’t said anything that could change the way I feel about you. It didn’t matter to him. And best of all, she believed him. The things he’d said, the way he’d looked at her… Since the divorce, she’d almost come to believe that no one she met would understand.

She left the pan of lasagna on the stovetop. When she returned to the living room, Miles was sitting on the couch, staring into the fire. She sat down and rested her head on his shoulder, letting him pull her close. As they both watched the fire, she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His hand was moving rhythmically against her, her skin tingling wherever he touched. “Thank you for trusting me,” he said.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“Not this time. Not with you.”

She lifted her head then, and without another word she kissed him, brushing her lips softly against his, once, then twice, before meeting them for good. His arms moved up her back as her mouth opened, and then she felt his tongue against hers, the wetness intoxicating. She brought one of her hands to his face, felt the rough stubble beneath her fingertips, then traced the stubble with her lips. Miles responded by moving his mouth to her neck, gently nipping and kissing, his breath hot against her skin.

They made love for a long time; the fire eventually burned itself out, painting the room with darker shadows. Throughout the night, Miles whispered to her in the darkness, his hand always in movement against her, as if trying to convince himself that she was real. Twice, he got up to add more logs to the fire. She retrieved a quilt from the bedroom to cover them up, and sometime in the early morning hours, both of them realized they were ravenous. They shared the plate of lasagna in front of the fire, and for some reason, the act of eating together-naked and beneath the quilt-seemed almost as sensual as anything else that had happened that night.

Just before dawn, Sarah finally feel asleep and Miles carried her to the bedroom, closed the drapes, and crawled in beside her. The morning was overcast and rainy, dark, and they slept until almost noon, the first time that had happened for either of them in as long as they could remember. Sarah woke first; she felt Miles curled around her, one arm on top, and she stirred. It was enough to wake him. He lifted his head from the pillow, and she rolled over to face him. Miles reached up and traced her cheek with his finger, trying to suppress the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I love you,” he said, unable to stop the words.

She took his hand in both of hers, bringing it to her breast.

“Oh, Miles,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

During the next few days, Sarah and Miles spent all their free time together-not just on dates, but around the house as well. Jonah, instead of sorting through what it all meant, simply let his questions slide for the time being. In his room, he showed Sarah his collection of baseball cards, he talked about fishing and taught her how to cast a line. Occasionally he would surprise her by taking her hand as he led her off to show her something new.

Miles watched all of it from a distance, knowing that Jonah needed to figure out exactly where Sarah fit into his world and how he felt about her. It made it easier, he knew, that Sarah wasn’t a stranger. But he couldn’t hide his relief at seeing them get along so well.

On Halloween, they drove to the beach and spent the afternoon collecting seashells, then went trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. Jonah went around with a group of friends, Miles and Sarah trailing behind with other parents. Brenda, of course, peppered Sarah with questions at school, once word had spread in town. Charlie, too, made mention of the news. “I love her, Charlie,” Miles said simply, and though Charlie, being from the old school, wondered whether everything had moved a little too quickly, nonetheless slapped Miles on the back and invited both of them to dinner.