Nicholas Sparks - A Bend in the Road

Sarah heard him pull up and turned, though she did not wave. A moment later, Brian sat next to her.

Sarah, he knew, must have called in sick. The school where she taught, unlike his, had another week to go before vacation. As he sat there, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had he not come home for Thanksgiving and seen Miles at the house or if Otis hadn’t been arrested. “I don’t know what to do,” she finally whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“You should be.”

Brian could hear the bitterness in her tone.

“I don’t want to go over all of it again, but I need to know that you were telling me the truth.” She turned to face him. Her cheeks were flushed in the chill, as if someone had pinched them.

“I was.”

“I mean about all of it, Brian. Was it really an accident?”

“Yes,” he said.

She nodded, though his answer didn’t seem to comfort her. “I didn’t sleep last night,” she said. “Unlike you, I can’t ignore this.”

Brian didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked at last. “When it happened, I mean?” “I couldn’t,” Brian answered. The day before, she had asked the same question, and he had answered in the same way.

She sat in silence for a long moment. “You have to tell him,” she said, staring out over the headstones. Her voice sounded like a shadow of itself. “I know,” he whispered.

She lowered her head, and he thought he saw tears beginning to form. She was worried about him, but it wasn’t her worry that caused the tears. Sitting beside her, Brian knew that she was crying for herself.

Sarah went with Brian to Miles’s house. As she drove, Brian stared out the window. The movement of the car seemed to drain Brian of energy, but he was strangely unafraid of what was coming. His fear, he knew, had been passed to his sister.

They crossed the bridge, then turned on Madame Moore’s Lane, following the winding curves until they reached Miles’s driveway. Sarah pulled alongside his pickup and turned the key, extinguishing sound.

Sarah didn’t get out right away. Instead, she sat, holding the keys in her lap. She took a deep breath, then finally faced him. Her mouth was set in a tight, forced smile of support, then vanished. She slid her keys into her purse, and Brian pushed open the door. Together they started toward the house. Sarah hesitated at the step, and for a moment, Brian’s eyes darted to the corner of the porch, where he’d stood so many times. As soon as it happened, he knew that he would tell Miles about the crime, but just as he had with his sister, he would keep silent about the other things he had done.

Steeling herself, Sarah walked to the door and knocked. A moment later, Miles opened the door.

“Sarah… Brian…,” he said.

“Hi, Miles,” Sarah answered. Her voice, Brian thought, was surprisingly steady. At first, no one moved. Still upset from the day before, Miles and Sarah simply stared at each other, until Miles took a small step backward. “Come in,” he said, leading them inside. He closed the door behind them. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“How about you, Brian?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“So what’s up?”

Sarah absently adjusted her purse strap. “There’s something I… I mean we, have to talk to you about,” she said awkwardly. “Can we sit down?” “Sure,” Miles answered. He motioned toward the couch. Brian took a seat next to Sarah, across from Miles. Brian took a deep breath, almost starting then, but Sarah cut him off.

“Miles… before we start, I want you to know that I wish I didn’t have to be here. I wish that more than anything. Try to keep that in mind, okay? This isn’t easy for any of us.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Sarah glanced toward Brian. She nodded, and with that, Brian felt his throat suddenly go dry. He swallowed.

“It was an accident,” he said.

At that, the words poured forth, the way he’d rehearsed them a hundred times in his head. Brian told him everything about that night two years ago, leaving nothing out. His mind, however, wasn’t on the words.

Instead it was on Miles’s reaction. At first there was none. As soon as Brian began, Miles slipped into a different posture, that of someone who wanted to listen objectively, without interruption, the way he’d been trained as a sheriff. Brian, he knew, was making a confession, and Miles had learned that silence was the best way to get an uncensored version of events. It wasn’t until later, when Brian mentioned Rhett’s Barbecue, that Miles finally began to realize what Brian was telling him.

Then the shock set in. As Brian went on, Miles froze, his face draining of color. His hands tightened reflexively on the armrest. Nonetheless, Brian pressed forward. In the background, as if from somewhere far away, Brian heard his sister inhale sharply as he described the accident. He ignored the sound, continuing with his story, stopping only when he described the next morning in the kitchen, and his decision to keep silent.

Miles sat like a statue through it all, and when Brian lapsed into silence, Miles seemed to take a moment to register everything that Brian had told him. Then, finally, his eyes focused on Brian, as if seeing him for the first time.

In a way, Brian knew he was.

“A dog?” he rasped out. His voice was low and gravelly, as if he’d been holding his breath through the confession. “You’re saying she jumped in front of your car because of a dog?”

“Yes.” Brian nodded. “A black dog. A big one. There was nothing I could do.” Miles’s eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to keep control. “Then why did you run?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t explain why I ran that night. The next thing I knew, I was in the car.”

“Because you don’t remember.” The anger in Miles’s tone was unmistakable, barely suppressed. Ominous.

“I don’t remember that part of it, no.”

“But the rest of it you do. You remember everything else about that night.”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me the real reason you ran that night.”

Sarah reached out to touch Miles’s arm. “He’s telling the truth, Miles. Believe me-he wouldn’t lie about this.”

Miles shook off her hand.

“It’s okay, Sarah,” Brian said. “He can ask whatever he wants.”

“You’re damn right I can,” Miles added, his voice lowering even more. “I don’t remember why I ran,” Brian answered. “Like I said, I don’t remember even leaving the scene. I remember being in the car, but that’s it.” Miles stood from the chair, glaring. “And you expect me to believe that?” he said. “That it wasMissy’s fault?”

“Wait a minute!” Sarah said, coming to her brother’s defense. “He told you how it happened! He’s telling the truth!”

Miles swiveled to face her. “Why the hell should I believe him?”

“Because he’s here! Because he wanted you to know the truth!”

“Two years later he wants me to know the truth? How do you know it’s the truth?” He waited for an answer, but before she could respond, he suddenly took a small step backward. He turned from Sarah to Brian and back to Sarah again, as he considered what the answers to his questions meant.

Sarah hadknown exactly what her brother was going to say… Which meant… that she’d known Otis was innocent. She’d tried to get him to back off. Let Charlie handle it, she’d said. What if Sims and Earl were wrong somehow?

She’d said those things because she’dknown Brian was guilty.

But that made sense, didn’t it?

Hadn’t she said that she was close to her brother? Hadn’t she said he was the one person she could really talk to, and vice versa?