Николас Спаркс - The Longest Ride

“You are thinking about your parents,” Ruth says to me.

“You were always kind to them,” I say.

“I loved your mother very much,” Ruth says. “Despite the difference in our ages, she was the first real friend I made in this country.”

“And my father?”

“I loved him, too. How could I not? He was family.”

I smile, recalling that in later years she was always more patient with him than I was.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Why did you wait for me? Even after I stopped writing? I know you say that you loved me, but…”

“We are back to this? You wonder why I loved you?”

“You could have had anyone.”

She leans closer to me, her voice soft. “This has always been your problem, Ira,” she says. “You do not see in yourself what others see in you. You think you are not handsome enough, but you were very handsome when you were young. You think you are not interesting or smart enough, but you are these things, too, and that you are not aware of your best qualities is part of your charm. You always see so much in others – as you did in me. You made me feel special.”

“But you are special,” I insist.

She raises her hands in delight. “This is what I am talking about,” she says, laughing. “You are a man of deep feelings, who has always cared about others, and I am not alone in recognizing that. Your friend Joe Torrey sensed it. I am sure that is why he spent his free time with you. And my mother sensed it as well, which was why she held me when I thought I had lost you. Because we both knew that men like you are rare.”

“I’m glad you came that night,” I say. “I needed you.”

“And you also knew, as soon as we fell into step at the park, that you were finally ready to tell me the truth. All of it.”

I nod. In one of my final letters, I’d briefly told her about the bombing run over Schweinfurt and Joe Torrey. I mentioned the wounds I’d received and the infection that had followed, but I hadn’t told her everything. On that night, however, I started at the beginning. I related every detail and I held nothing back. On the bench, she listened to my outpouring of words without speaking.

Afterward, she slipped her arms around me and I leaned into her. The emotions washed over me in waves, her whispered words of comfort unleashing memories I had tried too long to bury.

I don’t know how long it took for the storm inside me to subside, but by that point, I was exhausted. Yet there was one thing remaining that I had not revealed, something that not even my parents knew.

In the car, Ruth is silent. I know she is replaying what I said to her that night.

“I told you that I got the mumps while I was in the hospital – the worst case the doctor had ever seen. And I told you what the doctor said to me.”

Ruth remains quiet, but her eyes start to glisten.

“He said that mumps can cause sterility,” I say. “That’s why I tried to end it between us. Because I knew that if you ever married me, there was a good chance that we would never have children.”

9

Sophia

“And then what?” Marcia asked. She was standing in front of the mirror and applying a second coat of mascara while Sophia recounted her day at the ranch. “Don’t tell me you slept with him.” As she said it, she examined Sophia’s reflection in the mirror.

“Of course not!” Sophia said. She crossed one leg beneath the other on the bed. “It wasn’t like that. We just kissed and then we talked some more, and then when I left, he kissed me again at the car. It was… sweet.”

“Oh,” Marcia said, stopping in her attempt to dab on some mascara.

“Don’t hide your disappointment. Really.”

“What?” she announced. “The way you looked just now makes me think you wanted to.”

“I barely know him!”

“That’s not true. You were with him, what? More than an hour last night, and six or seven hours today? That’s a lot of time together. That’s a lot of talking. Horseback riding, a couple of beers… if it was me, I might have grabbed his hand and just dragged him inside.”

“Marcia!”

“I’m just saying. He was seriously hot. You noticed that, right?”

Sophia really, truly, didn’t want the whole “hot” thing to start up again. “He’s a nice guy,” she said, trying to head it off.

“Even better,” Marcia said, giving her a wink. She applied a glossy coat of lipstick before reaching for a hair clip. “But okay, I get it. You’re different than me. And I respect that – I really do. I’m just glad you’re done with Brian.”

“I’ve been done with him since I broke up with him.”

“I could tell,” she said, gathering her rich brown hair into a sleek ponytail and securing it with a glittery hair clip. “You know I talked to him, right?”

“When?”

“At the rodeo, when you were off with Mr. Hottie.”

Sophia frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was there to tell? I was just trying to distract him. The Duke guys hated him, by the way.” She adjusted a few strands that she had artfully loosened from the ponytail, then met Sophia’s gaze in the mirror. “You have to admit, I’m the best roommate ever, right? Convincing you to go out with us? If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be moping around our room all day. All of which makes me wonder when I’m going to get the chance to meet your new stud.”

“We didn’t talk about getting together again.”

Marcia’s face was incredulous. “How could you not talk about it?”

Because we’re different, Sophia thought. And because… she didn’t really know why, other than that the dizzy way the kiss made her feel obliterated all practical thought.

“All I know is that he’s going to be out of town next weekend. He’s going to be riding in Knoxville.”

“So call him. Invite him over to the house before he leaves.”

Sophia shook her head. “I’m not going to call him.”

“And if he doesn’t call you?”

“He said he would.”

“A lot of times, guys just say that and you never hear from them again.”

“He’s not like that,” she said, and as if proving her point, her cell phone began to ring. Recognizing Luke’s phone number, she grabbed it and jumped up from the bed.

“Don’t tell me that’s him, already.”

“He said he would call to make sure I got home safely.”

Sophia was already bounding to the door, barely noticing her roommate’s surprise or the words she muttered to herself as Sophia slipped into the hallway. “I’ve really, really got to meet this guy.”

On Thursday evening, an hour after the sun had gone down, Sophia was finishing up her hair when Marcia turned toward her. She’d been standing at the window and watching for Luke’s truck, making Sophia feel even more nervous than she already was. She’d vetoed three of Sophia’s outfits, had lent her a pair of gold, dangly earrings and a necklace that matched, and as she skipped toward Sophia, she didn’t bother to hide her excitement.

“He’s here. I’m going downstairs to meet him at the door.”

Sophia let out a long breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“No, you stay in the room for a few minutes. You don’t want him to think you were watching for him.”

“I wasn’t watching for him,” Sophia said. “You were.”

“You know what I mean. You need to make an entrance. He needs to see you coming down the stairs. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re desperate.”

“Why are you making this so complicated?” Sophia protested.

“Trust me,” Marcia said. “I know what I’m doing. Come down in three minutes. Count to a hundred or something. I’ve got to go.”