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Word Gems 

exploring self-realization, sacred personhood, and full humanity

Soulmate, Myself:
The Perfect Mate

text of the novel

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Chapter 7
By early December, just over two weeks into rehearsals,
the sky was winter dark before Miss Garber would let us
leave, and Jamie asked me if I wouldn't mind walking her
home. I don't know why she wanted me to. Beaufort wasn't
exactly a hotbed of criminal activity back then. The only
murder I'd ever heard about had occurred six years earlier
when a guy was stabbed outside of Maurice's Tavern, which was
a hangout for people like Lew, by the way. For an hour or so
it caused quite a stir, and phone lines buzzed all over town
while nervous women wondered about the possibility of a
crazed lunatic wandering the streets, preying on innocent
victims. Doors were locked, guns were loaded, men sat by the
front windows, looking for anyone out of the ordinary who
might be creeping down the street. But the whole thing was
over before the night was through when the guy walked into
the police station to give himself up, explaining that it was
a bar fight that got out of hand. Evidently the victim had
welshed on a bet. The guy was charged with second-degree
murder and got six years in the state penitentiary. The
policemen in our town had the most boring jobs in the world,
but they still liked to strut around with a swagger or sit in
coffee shops while they talked about the "big crime," as if
they'd cracked the case of the Lindbergh baby.
But Jamie's house was on the way to mine, and I couldn't
say no without hurting her feelings. It wasn't that I liked
her or anything, don't get the wrong idea, but when you've
had to spend a few hours a day with someone, and you're going
to continue doing that for at least another week, you don't
want to do anything that might make the next day miserable
for either of you.
The play was going to be performed that Friday and
Saturday, and lots of people were already talking about it.
Miss Garber had been so impressed by Jamie and me that she
kept telling everyone it was going to be the best play the
school had ever done. She had a real flair for promotion,
too, we found out. We had one radio station in town, and they
interviewed her over the air, not once, but twice. "It's
going to be marvelous," she pronounced, "absolutely
marvelous." She'd also called the newspaper, and they'd
agreed to write an article about it, primarily because of the
Jamie- Hegbert connection, even though everyone in town
already knew about it. But Miss Garber was relentless, and
just that day she'd told us the Playhouse was going to bring
in extra seats to accommodate the extra-large crowd expected.
The class sort of oohed and aahed, like it was a big deal or
something, but then I guess it was to some of them. Remember,
we had guys like Eddie in class. He probably thought that
this would be the only time in his life when someone might be
interested in him. The sad thing was, he was probably right.
You might think I'd be getting excited about it, too, but I
really wasn't. My friends were still teasing me at school,
and I hadn't had an afternoon off in what seemed like
forever. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that
I was doing the "right thing." I know it's not much, but
frankly, it was all I had. Occasionally I even felt sort of
good about it, too, though I never admitted it to anyone. I
could practically imagine the angels in heaven, standing
around and staring wistfully down at me with little tears
filling the corners of their eyes, talking about how
wonderful I was for all my sacrifices.
So I was walking her home that first night, thinking about
this stuff, when Jamie asked me a question.
"Is it true you and your friends sometimes go to the
graveyard at night?"
Part of me was surprised that she was even interested.
Though it wasn't exactly a secret, it didn't seem like the
sort of thing she'd care about at all.
"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "Sometimes."
"What do you do there, besides eat peanuts?"
I guess she knew about that, too.
"I don't know," I said. "Talk . . . joke around. It's just
a place we like to go."
"Does it ever scare you?"
"No," I answered. "Why? Would it scare you?"
"I don't know," she said. "It might."
"Why?"
"Because I'd worry that I might do something wrong."
"We don't do anything bad there. I mean, we don't knock
over the tombstones or leave our trash around," I said. I
didn't want to tell her about our conversations about Henry
Preston because I knew that wasn't the sort of thing Jamie
would want to hear about. Last week Eric had wondered aloud
how fast a guy like that could lie in bed and . . . well . .
. you know.
"Do you ever just sit around and listen to the sounds?"
she asked. "Like the crickets chirping, or the rustling of
leaves when the wind blows? Or do you ever just lie on your
backs and stare at the stars?"
Even though she was a teenager and had been for four
years, Jamie didn't know the first thing about teenagers, and
trying to understand teenage boys for her was like trying to
decipher the theory of relativity.
"Not really," I said.
She nodded a little. "I think that's what I'd do if I were
there, if I ever go, I mean. I'd just look around to really
see the place, or sit quietly and listen."
This whole conversation struck me as strange, but I didn't
press it, and we walked in silence for a few moments. And
since she'd asked a little about me, I sort of felt obliged
to ask her about herself. I mean, she hadn't brought up the
Lord's plan or anything, so it was the least I could do.
"So, what do you do?" I asked. "Besides working with the
orphans or helping critters or reading the Bible, I mean?" It
sounded ridiculous, even to me, I admit, but that's what she
did.
She smiled at me. I think she was surprised by my
question, and even more surprised at my interest in her.
"I do a lot of things. I study for my classes, I spend
time with my dad. We play gin rummy now and then. Things like
that."
"Do you ever just go off with friends and goof around?"
"No," she said, and I could tell by the way she answered
that even to her, it was obvious that no one wanted her
around much.
"I'll bet you're excited about going off to college next
year," I said, changing the subject.
It took her a moment to answer.
"I don't think I'm going to go," she said
matter-of-factly. Her answer caught me off guard. Jamie had
some of the highest grades in our senior class, and depending
on how the last semester went, she might even end up
valedictorian. We had a running pool going as to how many
times she would mention the Lord's plan in her speech, by the
way. My bet was fourteen, being that she only had five
minutes.
"What about Mount Sermon? I thought that's where you were
planning to go. You'd love a place like that," I offered.
She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. "You mean I'd
fit right in there, don't you?"
Those curveballs she sometimes threw could smack you right
between the eyeballs.
"I didn't mean it that way," I said quickly. "I just meant
that I'd heard about how excited you were to be going there
next year."
She shrugged without really answering me, and to be
honest, I didn't know what to make of it. By then we'd
reached the front of her house, and we stopped on the
sidewalk out front. From where I was standing, I could make
out Hegbert's shadow in the living room through the curtains.
The lamp was on, and he was sitting on the sofa by the
window. His head was bowed, like he was reading something. I
assumed it was the Bible.
"Thank you for walking me home, Landon," she said, and she
glanced up at me for a moment before finally starting up the
walk.
As I watched her go, I couldn't help but think that of all
the times I'd ever talked to her, this was the strangest
conversation we'd ever had. Despite the oddness of some of
her answers, she seemed practically normal.
The next night, as I was walking her home, she asked me
about my father.
"He's all right, I reckon," I said. "But he's not around
much."
"Do you miss that? Not growing up with him around?"
"Sometimes."
"I miss my mom, too," she said, "even though I never even
knew her."
It was the first time I'd ever considered that Jamie and I
might have something in common. I let that sink in for a
while.
"It must be hard for you," I said sincerely. "Even though
my father's a stranger to me, at least he's still around."
She looked up at me as we walked, then faced forward
again. She tugged gently at her hair again. I was beginning
to notice that she did this whenever she was nervous or
wasn't sure what to say.
"It is, sometimes. Don't get me wrong-I love my father
with all my heart-but there are times when I wonder what it
would have been like to have a mother around. I think she and
I would have been able to talk about things in a way that my
father and I can't."
I assumed she was talking about boys. It wasn't until
later that I learned how wrong I was.
"What's it like, living with your father? Is he like how
he is in church?"
"No. He's actually got a pretty good sense of humor."
"Hegbert?" I blurted out. I couldn't even imagine it.
I think she was shocked to hear me call him by his first
name, but she let me off the hook and didn't respond to my
comment. Instead she said, "Don't look so surprised. You'll
like him, once you get to know him."
"I doubt if I'll ever get to know him."
"You never know, Landon," she said, smiling, "what the
Lord's plan is."

I hated when she said things like that. With her, you just
knew she talked to the Lord every day, and you never knew
what the "Big Guy upstairs" had told her. She might even have
a direct ticket into heaven, if you know what I mean, being
as how good a person she was.
"How would I get to know him?" I asked.
She didn't answer, but she smiled to herself, as if she
knew some secret that she was keeping from me. Like I said, I
hated it when she did that.
The next night we talked about her Bible.
"Why do you always carry it with you?" I asked.
Now, I assumed she carried the Bible around simply because
she was the minister's daughter. It wasn't that big of an
assumption, given how Hegbert felt about Scripture and all.
But the Bible she carried was old and the cover was kind of
ratty looking, and I figured that she'd be the kind of person
who would buy a new one every year or so just to help out the
Bible publishing industry or to show her renewed dedication
to the Lord or something.
She walked a few steps before answering.
"It was my mother's," she said simply.
"Oh. . . ." I said it like I'd stepped on someone's pet
turtle, squashing it under my shoe.
She looked at me. "It's okay, Landon. How could you have
known?"
"I'm sorry I asked. . . ."
"Don't be. You didn't mean anything by it." She paused.
"My mother and father were given this Bible for their
wedding, but my mom was the one who claimed it first. She
read it all the time, especially whenever she was going
through a hard time in her life."
I thought about the miscarriages. Jamie went on.
"She loved to read it at night, before she went to sleep,
and she had it with her in the hospital when I was born. When
my father found out that she had died, he carried the Bible
and me out of the hospital at the same time."
"I'm sorry," I said again. Whenever someone tells you
something sad, it's the only thing you can think to say, even
if you've already said it before.
"It just gives me a way to . . . to be a part of her. Can
you understand that?" She wasn't saying it sadly, just more
to let me know the answer to my question. Somehow that made
it worse.
After she told me the story, I thought of her growing up
with Hegbert again, and I didn't really know what to say. As
I was thinking about my answer, though, I heard a car blare
its horn from behind us, and both Jamie and I stopped and
turned around at the same time as we heard it pulling over to
the side.
Eric and Margaret were in the car, Eric on the driver's
side, Margaret on the side closest to us.
"Well, lookee who we have here," Eric said as he leaned
over the steering wheel so that I could see his face. I
hadn't told him I'd been walking Jamie home, and in the
curious way that teenage minds work, this new development
took priority over anything that I was feeling about Jamie's
story.
"Hello, Eric. Hello, Margaret," Jamie said cheerfully.
"Walking her home, Landon?" I could see the little devil
behind Eric's smile.
"Hey, Eric," I said, wishing he'd never seen me.
"It's a beautiful night for strolling, isn't it?" Eric
said. I think that because Margaret was between him and
Jamie, he felt a little bolder than he usually was in Jamie's
presence. And there was no way he could let this opportunity
pass without sticking it to me.
Jamie looked around and smiled. "Yes, it is."
Eric looked around, too, with this wistful look in his
eyes before taking a deep breath. I could tell he was faking
it. "Boy, it really is nice out there." He sighed and glanced
toward us as he shrugged. "I'd offer you a ride, but it
wouldn't be half as nice as actually walking under the stars,
and I wouldn't want you two to miss it." He said this like he
was doing us both a favor.
"Oh, we're almost to my house anyway," Jamie said. "I was
going to offer Landon a cup of cider. Would you like to meet
us there? We have plenty."
A cup of cider? At her house? She hadn't mentioned that. .
. .
I put my hands in my pocket, wondering if this could get
any worse.
"Oh, no . . . that's all right. We were just heading off
to Cecil's Diner."
"On a school night?" she asked innocently.
"Oh, we won't be out too late," he promised, "but we
should probably be going. Enjoy your cider, you two."
"Thanks for stopping to say hello," Jamie said, waving.
Eric got the car rolling again, but slowly. Jamie probably
thought he was a safe driver. He really wasn't, though he was
good at getting out of trouble when he'd crashed into
something. I remember one time when he'd told his mother that
a cow had jumped out in front of the car and that's why the
grille and fender were damaged. "It happened so fast, Mom,
the cow came out of nowhere. It just darted out in front of
me, and I couldn't stop in time." Now, everyone knows cows
don't exactly dart anywhere, but his mother believed him. She
used to be a head cheerleader, too, by the way.
Once they'd pulled out of sight, Jamie turned to me and
smiled.
"You have nice friends, Landon."
"Sure I do." Notice the careful way I phrased my answer.
After dropping Jamie off-no, I didn't stay for any cider-I
started back to my house, grumbling the whole time. By then
Jamie's story had left me completely, and I could practically
hear my friends laughing about me, all the way from Cecil's
Diner.
See what happens when you're a nice guy?
By the next morning everyone at school knew I was walking
Jamie home, and this started up a new round of speculation
about the two of us. This time it was even worse than before.
It was so bad that I had to spend my lunch break in the
library just to get away from it all.
That night, the rehearsal was at the Playhouse. It was the
last one before the show opened, and we had a lot to do.
Right after school, the boys in drama class had to load all
the props in the classroom into the rented truck to take them
to the Playhouse. The only problem was that Eddie and I were
the only two boys, and he's not exactly the most coordinated
individual in history. We'd be walking through a doorway,
carrying one of the heavier items, and his Hooville body
would work against him. At every critical moment when I
really needed his help to balance the load, he'd stumble over
some dust or an insect on the floor, and the weight of the
prop would come crashing down on my fingers, pinching them
against the doorjamb in the most painful way possible.
"S-s-sorry," he'd say. "D-d-did . . . th-th-that hurt?"
I'd stifle the curses rising in my throat and bite out,
"Just don't do it again."
But he couldn't stop himself from stumbling around any
more than he could stop the rain from falling. By the time
we'd finished loading and unloading everything, my fingers
looked like Toby's, the roving handyman. And the worst thing
was, I didn't even get a chance to eat before rehearsal
started. Moving the props had taken three hours, and we
didn't finish setting them up until a few minutes before
everyone else arrived to begin. With everything else that had
happened that day, suffice it to say I was in a pretty bad
mood.
I ran through my lines without even thinking about them,
and Miss Garber didn't say the word marvelous all night long.
She had this concerned look in her eyes afterward, but Jamie
simply smiled and told her not to worry, that everything was
going to be all right. I knew Jamie was just trying to make
things better for me, but when she asked me to walk her home,
I told her no. The Playhouse was in the middle of town, and
to walk her home, I'd have to walk a good distance out of my
way. Besides, I didn't want to be seen again doing it. But
Miss Garber had overheard Jamie's request and she said, very
firmly, that I'd be glad to do it. "You two can talk about
the play," she said. "Maybe you can work out the kinks." By
kinks, of course, she meant me specifically.
So once more I ended up walking Jamie home, but she could
tell I wasn't really in the mood to talk because I walked a
little bit in front of her, my hands in my pockets, without
even really turning back to see whether she was following. It
went this way for the first few minutes, and I hadn't said a
word to her.
"You're not in a very good mood, are you?" she finally
asked. "You didn't even try tonight."
"You don't miss a thing, do you?" I said sarcastically
without looking at her.
"Maybe I can help," she offered. She said it kind of
happily, which made me even a little angrier.
"I doubt it," I snapped.
"Maybe if you told me what was wrong-"
I didn't let her finish.
"Look," I said, stopping, turning to face her. "I've just
spent all day hauling crap, I haven't eaten since lunch, and
now I have to trek a mile out of my way to make sure you get
home, when we both know you don't even need me to do it."
It was the first time I'd ever raised my voice to her. To
tell you the truth, it felt kind of good. It had been
building up for a long time. Jamie was too surprised to
respond, and I went on.
"And the only reason I'm doing this is because of your
father, who doesn't even like me. This whole thing is dumb,
and I wish I had never agreed to do it."
"You're just saying this because you're nervous about the
play-"
I cut her off with a shake of my head.
Once I got on a roll, it was sometimes hard for me to
stop. I could take her optimism and cheerfulness only so
long, and today wasn't the day to push me too far.
"Don't you get it?" I said, exasperated. "I'm not nervous
about the play, I just don't want to be here. I don't want to
walk you home, I don't want my friends to keep talking about
me, and I don't want to spend time with you. You keep acting
like we're friends, but we're not. We're not anything. I just
want the whole thing to be over so I can go back to my normal
life."
She looked hurt by my outburst, and to be honest, I
couldn't blame her.
"I see," was all she said. I waited for her to raise her
voice at me, to defend herself, to make her case again, but
she didn't. All she did was look toward the ground. I think
part of her wanted to cry, but she didn't, and I finally
stalked away, leaving her standing by herself. A moment
later, though, I heard her start moving, too. She was about
five yards behind me the rest of the way to her house, and
she didn't try to talk to me again until she started up the
walkway. I was already moving down the sidewalk when I heard
her voice.
"Thank you for walking me home, Landon," she called out.
I winced as soon as she said it. Even when I was mean to
her face and said the most spiteful things, she could find
some reason to thank me. She was just that kind of girl, and
I think I actually hated her for it.
Or rather, I think, I hated myself.

Chapter 8
The night of the play was cool and crisp, the sky
absolutely clear without a
hint of clouds. We had to arrive an hour early, and I'd
been feeling pretty bad
all day about the way I'd talked to Jamie the night
before. She'd never been
anything but nice to me, and I knew that I'd been a jerk.
I saw her in the
hallways between classes, and I wanted to go up to
apologize to her for what I'd
said, but she'd sort of slip back into the crowd before I
got the chance.
She was already at the Playhouse by the time I finally
arrived, and I saw her
talking to Miss Garber and Hegbert, off to one side, over
by the curtains.
Everyone was in motion, working off nervous energy, but
she seemed strangely
lethargic. She hadn't put on her costume yet-she was
supposed to wear a white,
flowing dress to give that angelic appearance-and she was
still wearing the same
sweater she'd worn at school. Despite my trepidation at
how she might react, I
walked up to the three of them.
"Hey, Jamie," I said. "Hello, Reverend . . . Miss Garber."
Jamie turned to me.
"Hello, Landon," she said quietly. I could tell she'd been
thinking about the
night before, too, because she didn't smile at me like she
always did when she
saw me. I asked if I could talk to her alone, and the two
of us excused
ourselves. I could see Hegbert and Miss Garber watching us
as we took a few
steps off to the side, out of hearing distance.
I glanced around the stage nervously.
"I'm sorry about those things I said last night," I began.
"I know they probably
hurt your feelings, and I was wrong to have said them."
She looked at me, as if wondering whether to believe me.
"Did you mean those things you said?" she finally asked.
"I was just in a bad mood, that's all. I get sort of wound
up sometimes." I knew
I hadn't really answered her question.
"I see," she said. She said it as she had the night
before, then turned toward
the empty seats in the audience. Again she had that sad
look in her eyes.
"Look," I said, reaching for her hand, "I promise to make
it up to you." Don't
ask me why I said it-it just seemed like the right thing
to do at that moment.
For the first time that night, she began to smile.
"Thank you," she said, turning to face me.
"Jamie?"
Jamie turned. "Yes, Miss Garber?"
"I think we're about ready for you." Miss Garber was
motioning with her hand.
"I've got to go," she said to me.
"I know."
"Break a leg?" I said. Wishing someone luck before a play
is supposed to be bad
luck. That's why everyone tells you to "break a leg."
I let go of her hand. "We both will. I promise."
After that, we had to get ready, and we went our separate
ways. I headed toward
the men's dressing room. The Playhouse was fairly
sophisticated, considering
that it was located in Beaufort, with separate dressing
rooms that made us feel
as if we were actual actors, as opposed to students.
My costume, which was kept at the Playhouse, was already
in the dressing room.
Earlier in the rehearsals we'd had our measurements taken
so that they could be
altered, and I was getting dressed when Eric walked in the
door unannounced.
Eddie was still in the dressing room, putting on his mute
bum's costume, and
when he saw Eric he got a look of terror in his eyes. At
least once a week Eric
gave him a wedgie, and Eddie kind of hightailed it out of
there as fast as he
could, pulling one leg up on his costume on the way out
the door. Eric ignored
him and sat on the dressing table in front of the mirror.
"So," Eric said with a mischievous grin on his face, "what
are you going to do?"
I looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"About the play, stupid. You gonna flub up your lines or
something?"
I shook my head. "No."
"You gonna knock the props over?" Everyone knew about the
props.
"I hadn't planned on it," I answered stoically.
"You mean you're going to do this thing straight up?"
I nodded. Thinking otherwise hadn't even occurred to me.
He looked at me for a long time, as if he were seeing
someone he'd never seen
before.
"I guess you're finally growing up, Landon," he said at
last. Coming from Eric,
I wasn't sure whether it was intended as a compliment.
Either way, though, I knew he was right.
In the play, Tom Thornton is amazed when he first sees the
angel, which is why
he goes around helping her as she shares Christmas with
those less fortunate.
The first words out of Tom's mouth are, "You're
beautiful," and I was supposed
to say them as if I meant them from the bottom of my
heart. This was the pivotal
moment in the entire play, and it sets the tone for
everything else that happens
afterward. The problem, however, was that I still hadn't
nailed this line yet.
Sure, I said the words, but they didn't come off too
convincingly, seeing as I
probably said the words like anyone would when looking at
Jamie, with the
exception of Hegbert. It was the only scene where Miss
Garber had never said the
word marvelous, so I was nervous about it. I kept trying to
imagine someone else
as the angel so that I could get it just right, but with
all the other things I
was trying to concentrate on, it kept getting lost in the
shuffle.
Jamie was still in her dressing room when the curtains
finally opened. I didn't
see her beforehand, but that was okay. The first few
scenes didn't include her
anyway-they were mainly about Tom Thornton and his
relationship with his
daughter.
Now, I didn't think I'd be too nervous when I stepped out
on stage, being that
I'd rehearsed so much, but it hits you right between the
eyes when it actually
happens. The Playhouse was absolutely packed, and as Miss
Garber had predicted,
they'd had to set up two extra rows of seats all the way
across the back.
Normally the place sat four hundred, but with those seats
there were at least
another fifty people sitting down. In addition, people
were standing against the
walls, packed like sardines.

holding a secret close to her heart, just like the part
called for her to do.
She looked exactly like an angel.
I know my jaw dropped a little, and I just stood there
looking at her for what
seemed like a long time, shocked into silence, until I
suddenly remembered that
I had a line I had to deliver. I took a deep breath, then
slowly let it out.
"You're beautiful," I finally said to her, and I think
everyone in the whole
auditorium, from the blue-haired ladies in front to my
friends in the back row,
knew that I actually meant it.
I'd nailed that line for the very first time.
 

Chapter 9
To say that the play was a smashing success was to put it
mildly. The audience
laughed and the audience cried, which is pretty much what
they were supposed to
do. But because of Jamie's presence, it really became
something special-and I
think everyone in the cast was as shocked as I was at how
well the whole thing
had come off. They all had that same look I did when I
first saw her, and it
made the play that much more powerful when they were
performing their parts. We
finished the first performance without a hitch, and the
next evening even more
people showed up, if you can believe it. Even Eric came up
to me afterward and
congratulated me, which after what he'd said to me before
was somewhat of a
surprise.
"The two of you did good," he said simply. "I'm proud of
you, buddy."
While he said it, Miss Garber was crying out, "Marvelous!"
to anyone who would
listen to her or who just happened to be walking past,
repeating it over and
over so much that I kept on hearing it long after I went
to bed that night.

It was even better than I'd imagined.

In the center of the room I saw a giant tree, decorated
with tinsel and colored
lights and a hundred different handmade ornaments. Beneath
the tree, spread in
all directions, were wrapped gifts of every size and
shape. They were piled
high, and the children were on the floor, sitting close
together in a large
semicircle. They were dressed in their best clothes, I
assumed-the boys wore
navy blue slacks and white collared shirts, while the
girls had on navy skirts
and long-sleeved blouses. They all looked as if they'd
cleaned up before the big
event, and most of the boys had had their hair cut.
On the table beside the door, there was a bowl of punch
and platters of cookies,
shaped like Christmas trees and sprinkled with green
sugar. I could see some
adults sitting with the children; a few of the smaller
kids were sitting on the
adults' laps, their faces rapt with attention as they
listened to " 'Twas the
Night Before Christmas."
I didn't see Jamie, though, at least not right off the
bat. It was her voice
that I recognized first. She was the one reading the
story, and I finally
located her. She was sitting on the floor in front of the
tree with her legs
bent beneath her.
To my surprise, I saw that tonight her hair hung loosely,
just as it had the
night of the play. Instead of the old brown cardigan I'd
seen so many times, she
was wearing a red V-neck sweater that somehow accentuated
the color of her light
blue eyes. Even without sparkles in her hair or a long
white flowing dress, the
sight of her was arresting. Without even noticing it, I'd
been holding my
breath, and I could see Mr. Jenkins smiling at me out of
the corner of my eye. I
exhaled and smiled, trying to regain control.
Jamie paused only once to look up from the story. She
noticed me standing in the
doorway, then went back to reading to the children. It
took her another minute
or so to finish, and when she did, she stood up and
smoothed her skirt, then
walked around the children to make her way toward me. Not
knowing where she
wanted me to go, I stayed where I was.
By then Mr. Jenkins had slipped away.
"I'm sorry we started without you," she said when she
finally reached me, "but
the kids were just so excited."
"It's okay," I said, smiling, thinking how nice she
looked.
"I'm so glad you could come."
"So am I."
Jamie smiled and reached for my hand to lead the way.
"C'mon with me," she said.
"Help me hand out the gifts."
We spent the next hour doing just that, and we watched as
the children opened
them one by one. Jamie had shopped all over town, picking
up a few things for
each child in the room, individual gifts that they'd never
received before. The
gifts that Jamie bought weren't the only ones the children
received,
however-both the orphanage and the people who worked there
had bought some
things as well. As paper was tossed around the room in
excited frenzy, there
were squeals of delight everywhere. To me, at least, it
seemed that all of the
children had received far more than they'd expected, and
they kept thanking
Jamie over and over.
By the time the dust had finally settled and all the
children's gifts were
opened, the atmosphere began to calm down. The room was
tidied up by Mr. Jenkins
and a woman I'd never met, and some of the smaller
children were beginning to
fall asleep beneath the tree. Some of the older ones had
already gone back to
their rooms with their gifts, and they'd dimmed the
overhead lights on the way
out the door. The tree lights cast an ethereal glow as
"Silent Night" played
softly on a phonograph that had been set up in the corner.
I was still sitting
on the floor next to Jamie, who was holding a young girl
who'd fallen asleep in
her lap. Because of all the commotion, we hadn't really
had a chance to talk,
not that either of us had minded. We were both gazing up
at the lights on the
tree, and I wondered what Jamie was thinking. If truth be
told, I didn't know,
but she had a tender look about her. I thought-no,I knew
-she was pleased with
how the evening had gone, and deep down, so was I. To this
point it was the best
Christmas Eve I'd ever spent.
I glanced at her. With the lights glowing on her face, she
looked as pretty as
anyone I'd ever seen.
"I bought you something," I finally said to her. "A gift,
I mean." I spoke
softly so I wouldn't wake the little girl, and I hoped it
would hide the
nervousness in my voice.
She turned from the tree to face me, smiling softly. "You
didn't have to do
that." She kept her voice low, too, and it sounded almost
musical.
"I know," I said. "But I wanted to." I'd kept the gift off
to one side, and I
reached for it, handing the gift-wrapped package to her.
"Could you open it for me? My hands are kind of full right
now." She looked down
at the little girl, then back to me.
"You don't have to open it now, if you'd rather not," I
said, shrugging, "it's
really not that big of a deal."
"Don't be silly," she said. "I would only open it in front
of you."
To clear my mind, I looked at the gift and started opening
it, picking at the
tape so that it wouldn't make much noise, then unwrapping
the paper until I
reached the box. After setting the paper off to the side,
I lifted the cover and
pulled out the sweater, holding it up to show her. It was
brown, like the ones
she usually wore. But I figured she could use a new one.
Compared with the joy I'd seen earlier, I didn't expect
much of a reaction.
"See, that's all. I told you it wasn't much," I said. I
hoped she wasn't
disappointed in it.
"It's beautiful, Landon," she said earnestly. "I'll wear
it the next time I see
you. Thank you."
We sat quietly for a moment, and once again I began to
look at the lights.
"I brought you something, too," Jamie finally whispered.
She looked toward the
tree, and my eyes followed her gaze. Her gift was still
beneath the tree,
partially hidden by the stand, and I reached for it. It
was rectangular,
flexible, and a little heavy. I brought it to my lap and
held it there without
even trying to open it.
"Open it," she said, looking right at me.
"You can't give this to me," I said breathlessly. I
already knew what was
inside, and I couldn't believe what she had done. My hands
began to tremble.
"Please," she said to me with the kindest voice I'd ever
heard, "open it. I want
you to have it."
Reluctantly I slowly unwrapped the package. When it was
finally free of the
paper, I held it gently, afraid to damage it. I stared at
it, mesmerized, and
slowly ran my hand over the top, brushing my fingers over
the well-worn leather
as tears filled my eyes. Jamie reached out and rested her
hand on mine. It was
warm and soft.
I glanced at her, not knowing what to say.
Jamie had given me her Bible.
"Thank you for doing what you did," she whispered to me.
"It was the best
Christmas I've ever had."
I turned away without responding and reached off to the
side where I'd set my
glass of punch. The chorus of "Silent Night" was still
playing, and the music
filled the room. I took a sip of the punch, trying to
soothe the sudden dryness
in my throat. As I drank, all the times I'd spent with
Jamie came flooding into
my mind. I thought about the homecoming dance and what
she'd done for me that
night. I thought about the play and how angelic she'd
looked. I thought about
the times I'd walked her home and how I'd helped collect
jars and cans filled
with pennies for the orphans.
As these images were going through my head, my breathing
suddenly went still. I
looked at Jamie, then up to the ceiling and around the
room, doing my best to
keep my composure, then back to Jamie again. She smiled at
me and I smiled at
her and all I could do was wonder how I'd ever fallen in
love with a girl like
Jamie Sullivan.

Chapter 10
I drove Jamie home from the orphanage later that night. At
first I wasn't sure
whether I should pull the old yawn move and put my arm
around her shoulder, but
to be honest, I didn't know exactly how she was feeling
about me. Granted, she'd
given me the most wonderful gift I'd ever received, and
even though I'd probably
never open it and read it like she did, I knew it was like
giving a piece of
herself away. But Jamie was the type of person who would
donate a kidney to a
stranger she met walking down the street, if he really
needed one. So I wasn't
exactly sure what to make of it.
Jamie had told me once that she wasn't a dimwit, and I
guess I finally came to
the conclusion that she wasn't. She may have been . . .
well, different . . .
but she'd figured out what I'd done for the orphans, and
looking back, I think
she knew even as we were sitting on the floor of her
living room. When she'd
called it a miracle, I guess she was talking specifically
about me.
Hegbert, I remembered, came into the room as Jamie and I
were talking about it,
but he really didn't have much to say. Old Hegbert hadn't
been himself lately,
at least as far as I could tell. Oh, his sermons were
still on the money, and he
still talked about the fornicators, but lately his sermons
were shorter than
usual, and occasionally he'd pause right in the middle of
one and this strange
look would come over him, kind of like he was thinking of
something else,
something sad.
I didn't know what to make of it, being that I really
didn't know him that well.
And Jamie, when she talked about him, seemed to describe
someone else entirely.
I could no more imagine Hegbert with a sense of humor than
I could imagine two
moons in the sky.
So anyway, he came into the room while we counted the
money, and Jamie stood up
with those tears in her eyes, and Hegbert didn't even seem
to realize I was
there. He told her that he was proud of her and that he
loved her, but then he
shuffled back to the kitchen to continue working on his
sermon. He didn't even
say hello. Now, I knew I hadn't exactly been the most
spiritual kid in the
congregation, but I still found his behavior sort of odd.
As I was thinking about Hegbert, I glanced at Jamie
sitting beside me. She was
looking out the window with a peaceful look on her face,
kind of smiling, but
far away at the same time. I smiled. Maybe she was
thinking about me. My hand
started scooting across the seat closer to hers, but
before I reached it, Jamie
broke the silence.
"Landon," she finally asked as she turned toward me, "do
you ever think about
God?"
I pulled my hand back.
Now, when I thought about God, I usually pictured him like
those old paintings
I'd seen in churches-a giant hovering over the landscape,
wearing a white robe,
with long flowing hair, pointing his finger or something
like that-but I knew
she wasn't talking about that. She was talking about the
Lord's plan. It took a
moment for me to answer.
"Sure," I said. "Sometimes, I reckon."
"Do you ever wonder why things have to turn out the way
they do?"
I nodded uncertainly.
"I've been thinking about it a lot lately."
Even more than usual? I wanted to ask, but I didn't. I
could tell she had more
to say, and I stayed quiet.
"I know the Lord has a plan for us all, but sometimes, I
just don't understand
what the message can be. Does that ever happen to you?"
She said this as though it were something I thought about
all the time.
"Well," I said, trying to bluff, "I don't think that we're
meant to understand
it all the time. I think that sometimes we just have to
have faith."
It was a pretty good answer, I admit. I guess that my
feelings for Jamie were
making my brain work a little faster than usual. I could
tell she was thinking
about my answer.
"Yes," she finally said, "you're right."
I smiled to myself and changed the subject, since talking
about God wasn't the
sort of thing that made a person feel romantic.
"You know," I said casually, "it sure was nice tonight
when we were sitting by
the tree earlier."
"Yes, it was," she said. Her mind was still elsewhere.
"And you sure looked nice, too."
"Thank you."
This wasn't working too well.
"Can I ask you a question?" I finally said, in the hopes
of bringing her back to
me.
"Sure," she said.
I took a deep breath.
"After church tomorrow, and, well . . . after you've spent
some time with your
father . . . I mean . . ." I paused and looked at her.
"Would you mind coming
over to my house for Christmas dinner?"
Even though her face was still turned toward the window, I
could see the faint
outlines of a smile as soon as I'd said it.
"Yes, Landon, I would like that very much."
I sighed with relief, not believing I'd actually asked her
and still wondering
how all this had happened. I drove down streets where
windows were decorated
with Christmas lights, and through the Beaufort City
Square. A couple of minutes
later when I reached across the seat, I finally took hold
of her hand, and to
complete the perfect evening, she didn't pull it away.
When we pulled up in front of her house, the lights in the
living room were
still on and I could see Hegbert behind the curtains. I
supposed he was waiting
up because he wanted to hear how the evening went at the
orphanage. Either that,
or he wanted to make sure I didn't kiss his daughter on
the doorstep. I knew
he'd frown on that sort of thing.

I was thinking about that-what to do when we finally said
good-bye, I mean-when
we got out of the car and started toward the door. Jamie
was quiet and content
at the same time, and I think she was happy that I'd asked
her to come over the
next day. Since she'd been smart enough to figure out what
I'd done for the
orphans, I figured that maybe she'd been smart enough to
figure out the
homecoming situation as well. In her mind, I think even
she realized that this
was the first time I'd actually asked her to join me of my
own volition.
Just as we got to her steps, I saw Hegbert peek out from
behind the curtains and
pull his face back. With some parents, like Angela's, for
instance, that meant
they knew you were home and you had about another minute
or so before they'd
open the door. Usually that gave you both time to sort of
bat your eyes at each
other while each of you worked up the nerve to actually
kiss. It usually took
about that long.
Now I didn't know if Jamie would kiss me; in fact, I
actually doubted that she
would. But with her looking so pretty, with her hair down
and all, and
everything that had happened tonight, I didn't want to
miss the opportunity if
it came up. I could feel the little butterflies already
starting to form in my
stomach when Hegbert opened the door.
"I heard you pull up," he said quietly. His skin was that
sallow color, as
usual, but he looked tired.
"Hello, Reverend Sullivan," I said dejectedly.
"Hi, Daddy," Jamie said happily a second later. "I wish
you could have come
tonight. It was wonderful."
"I'm so glad for you." He seemed to gather himself then
and cleared his throat.
"I'll give you a bit to say good night. I'll leave the
door open for you."
He turned around and went back into the living room. From
where he sat down, I
knew he could still see us. He pretended to be reading,
though I couldn't see
what was in his hands.
"I had a wonderful time tonight, Landon," Jamie said.
"So did I," I answered, feeling Hegbert's eyes on me. I
wondered if he knew I'd
been holding her hand during the car ride home.
"What time should I come over tomorrow?" she asked.
Hegbert's eyebrow raised just a little.
"I'll come over to get you. Is five o'clock okay?"
She looked over her shoulder. "Daddy, would you mind if I
visited with Landon
and his parents tomorrow?"
Hegbert brought his hand to his eyes and started rubbing
them. He sighed.
"If it's important to you, you can," he said.
Not the most stirring vote of confidence I'd ever heard,
but it was good enough
for me.
"What should I bring?" she asked. In the South it was
tradition to always ask
that question.
"You don't need to bring anything," I answered. "I'll pick
you up at a quarter
to five."
We stood there for a moment without saying anything else,
and I could tell
Hegbert was growing a little impatient. He hadn't turned a
page of the book
since we'd been standing there.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said finally.
"Okay," I said.
She glanced down at her feet for a moment, then back up at
me. "Thank you for
driving me home," she said.
With that, she turned around and walked inside. I could
barely see the slight
smile playing gently across her lips as she peeked around
the door, just as it
was about to close.
The next day I picked her up right on schedule and was
pleased to see that her
hair was down once more. She was wearing the sweater I'd
given her, just like
she'd promised.
Both my mom and dad were a little surprised when I'd asked
if it would be all
right if Jamie came by for dinner. It wasn't a big
deal-whenever my dad was
around, my mom would have Helen, our cook, make enough
food for a small army.
I guess I didn't mention that earlier, about the cook, I
mean. In our house we
had a maid and a cook, not only because my family could
afford them, but also
because my mom wasn't the greatest homemaker in the world.
She was all right at
making sandwiches for my lunch now and then, but there'd
been times when the
mustard would stain her nails, and it would take her at
least three or four days
to get over it. Without Helen I would have grown up eating
burned mashed
potatoes and crunchy steak. My father, luckily, had
realized this as soon as
they married, and both the cook and the maid had been with
us since before I was
born.
Though our house was larger than most, it wasn't a palace
or anything, and
neither the cook nor the maid lived with us because we
didn't have separate
living quarters or anything like that. My father had
bought the home because of
its historical value. Though it wasn't the house where
Blackbeard had once
lived, which would have been more interesting to someone
like me, ithad been
owned by Richard Dobbs Spaight, who'd signed the
Constitution. Spaight had also
owned a farm outside of New Bern, which was about forty
miles up the road, and
that was where he was buried. Our house might not have
been as famous as the one
where Dobbs Spaight was buried, but it still afforded my
father some bragging
rights in the halls of Congress, and whenever he walked
around the garden, I
could see him dreaming about the legacy he wanted to
leave. In a way it made me
sad, because no matter what he did, he'd never top old
Richard Dobbs Spaight.
Historical events like signing the Constitution come along
only once every few
hundred years, and no matter how you sliced it, debating
farm subsidies for
tobacco farmers or talking about the "Red influence" was
never going to cut it.
Even someone like me knew that.
The house was in theNational Historic Register -still is,
I suppose-and though
Jamie had been there once before, she was still kind of
awed when she walked
inside. My mother and father were both dressed very
nicely, as was I, and my
mother kissed Jamie hello on the cheek. My mother, I
couldn't help but think as
I watched her do it, had scored before I did.
We had a nice dinner, fairly formal with four courses,
though it wasn't stuffy
or anything like that. My parents and Jamie carried on the
most marvelous
conversation-think Miss Garber here-and though I tried to
inject my own brand of
humor, it didn't really go over too well, at least as far
as my parents were
concerned. Jamie, however, would laugh, and I took that as
a good sign.
After dinner I invited Jamie to walk around the garden,
even though it was
winter and nothing was in bloom. After putting on our
coats, we stepped outside
into the chilled winter air. I could see our breaths
coming out in little puffs.
"Your parents are wonderful people," she said to me. I
guess she hadn't taken
Hegbert's sermons to heart.
"They're nice," I responded, "in their own way. My mom's
especially sweet." I
said this not only because it was true, but also because
it was the same thing
that kids said about Jamie. I hoped she would get the
hint.
She stopped to look at the rosebushes. They looked like
gnarled sticks, and I
didn't see what her interest was in them.
"Is it true about your grandfather?" she asked me. "The
stories that people
tell?"
I guess she didn't get my hint.
"Yes," I said, trying not to show my disappointment.
"That's sad," she said simply. "There's more to life than
money."
"I know."
She looked at me. "Do you?"
I didn't meet her eyes as I answered. Don't ask me why.
"I know that what my grandfather did was wrong."
"But you don't want to give it back, do you?"
"I've never really thought about it, to tell you the
truth."
"Would you, though?"
I didn't answer right away, and Jamie turned from me. She
was staring at the
rosebushes with their gnarled sticks again, and I suddenly
realized that she'd
wanted me to say yes. It's what she would have done
without thinking twice about
it.
"Why do you do things like that?" I blurted out before I
could stop myself,
blood rushing into my cheeks. "Making me feel guilty, I
mean. I wasn't the one
who did it. I just happened to be born into this family."
She reached out and touched a branch. "That doesn't mean
you can't undo it," she
said gently, "when you get the opportunity."
Her point was clear, even to me, and deep down I knew she
was right. But that
decision, if it ever came, was a long way off. To my way
of thinking, I had more
important things on my mind. I changed the subject back to
something I could
relate to better.
"Does your father like me?" I asked. I wanted to know if
Hegbert would allow me
to see her again.
It took a moment for her to answer.
"My father," she said slowly, "worries about me."
"Don't all parents?" I asked.
She looked at her feet, then off to the side again before
turning back to me.
"I think that with him, it's different from most. But my
father does like you,
and he knows that it makes me happy to see you. That's why
he let me come over
to your house for dinner tonight."
"I'm glad he did," I said, meaning it.
"So am I."
We looked at each other under the light of a waxing
crescent moon, and I almost
kissed her right then, but she turned away a moment too
soon and said something
that sort of threw me.
"My father worries about you, too, Landon." The way she
said it-it was soft and
sad at the same time-let me know that it wasn't simply
because he thought I was
irresponsible, or that I used to hide behind the trees and
call him names, or
even that I was a member of the Carter family.
"Why?" I asked.
"For the same reason that I do," she said. She didn't
elaborate any further, and
I knew right then that she was holding something back,
something that she
couldn't tell me, something that made her sad as well. But
it wasn't until later
that I learned her secret.
Being in love with a girl like Jamie Sullivan was without
a doubt the strangest
thing I'd ever been through. Not only was she a girl that
I'd never thought
about before this year-even though we'd grown up
together-but there was
something different in the whole way my feelings for her
had unfolded. This
wasn't like being with Angela, whom I'd kissed the first
time I was ever alone
with her. I still hadn't kissed Jamie. I hadn't even
hugged her or taken her to
Cecil's Diner or even to a movie. I hadn't done any of the
things that I
normally did with girls, yet somehow I'd fallen in love.
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.

Chapter 11
"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.
"Let me worry about that," she said softly. "You just find
out if she'd like to
go and if Reverend Sullivan will allow it. If she can,
we'll find a way to make
it happen. I promise."
The following day I went to the church. I knew that
Hegbert would be in his
office. I hadn't asked Jamie yet because I figured she
would need his
permission, and for some reason I wanted to be the one who
asked. I guess it had
to do with the fact that Hegbert hadn't exactly been
welcoming me with open arms
when I visited. Whenever he'd see me coming up the
walkway-like Jamie, he had a
sixth sense about it-he'd peek out the curtains, then
quickly pull his head back
behind them, thinking that I hadn't seen him. When I
knocked, it would take a
long time for him to answer the door, as if he had to come
from the kitchen.
He'd look at me for a long moment, then sigh deeply and
shake his head before
finally saying hello.
His door was partially open, and I saw him sitting behind
his desk, spectacles
propped on his nose. He was looking over some papers-they
looked almost
financial-and I figured he was trying to figure out the
church budget for the
following year. Even ministers had bills to pay.
I knocked at the door, and he looked up with interest, as
if he expected another
member of the congregation, then furrowed his brow when he
saw that it was me.
"Hello, Reverend Sullivan," I said politely. "Do you have
a moment?"
He looked even more tired than usual, and I assumed he
wasn't feeling well.
"Hello, Landon," he said wearily.
I'd dressed sharply for the occasion, by the way, with a
jacket and tie. "May I
come in?"
He nodded slightly, and I entered the office. He motioned
for me to sit in the
chair across from his desk.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
I adjusted myself nervously in the chair. "Well, sir, I
wanted to ask you
something."
He stared at me, studying me before he finally spoke.
"Does it have to do with
Jamie?" he asked.
I took a deep breath.
"Yes, sir. I wanted to ask if it would be all right with
you if I took her to
dinner on New Year's Eve."
He sighed. "Is that all?" he said.
"Yes, sir," I said. "I'll bring her home any time you'd
need me to."
He took off his spectacles and wiped them with his
handkerchief before putting
them back on. I could tell he was taking a moment to think
about it.
"Will your parents be joining you?" he asked.
"No, sir."
"Then I don't think that will be possible. But thank you
for asking my
permission first." He looked down at the papers, making it
clear it was time for
me to leave. I stood from my chair and started toward the
door. As I was about
to go, I faced him again.
"Reverend Sullivan?"
He looked up, surprised I was still there. "I'm sorry for
those things I used to
do when I was younger, and I'm sorry that I didn't always
treat Jamie the way
she should have been treated. But from now on, things will
change. I promise you
that."
He seemed to look right through me. It wasn't enough.
"I love her," I said finally, and when I said it, his
attention focused on me
again.
"I know you do," he answered sadly, "but I don't want to
see her hurt." Even
though I must have been imagining it, I thought I saw his
eyes begin to water.
"I wouldn't do that to her," I said.
He turned from me and looked out the window, watching as
the winter sun tried to
force its way through the clouds. It was a gray day, cold
and bitter.
"Have her home by ten," he finally said, as though he knew
he'd made the wrong
decision.
I smiled and wanted to thank him, though I didn't. I could
tell that he wanted
to be alone. When I glanced over my shoulder on my way out
the door, I was
puzzled to see his face in his hands.
I asked Jamie an hour later. The first thing she said was
that she didn't think
she could go, but I told her that I'd already spoken to
her father. She seemed
surprised, and I think it had an effect on how she viewed
me after that. The one
thing I didn't tell her was that it looked almost as
though Hegbert had been
crying as I'd made my way out the door. Not only didn't I
understand it
completely, I didn't want her to worry. That night,
though, after talking to my
mom again, she provided me with a possible explanation,
and to be honest, it
made perfect sense to me. Hegbert must have come to the
realization that his
daughter was growing up and that he was slowly losing her
to me. In a way, I
hoped that was true.
I picked her up right on schedule. Though I hadn't asked
her to wear her hair
down, she'd done it for me. Silently we drove over the
bridge, down the
waterfront to the restaurant. When we got to the hostess
stand, the owner
himself appeared and walked us to our table. It was one of
the better ones in
the place.
It was crowded by the time we arrived, and all around us
people were enjoying
themselves. On New Year's people dressed fashionably, and
we were the only two
teenagers in the place. I didn't think we looked too out
of place, though.
Jamie had never been to Flauvin's before, and it took her
just a few minutes to
take it all in. She seemed nervously happy, and I knew
right away that my mom
had made the right suggestion.
"This is wonderful," she said to me. "Thank you for asking
me."
"My pleasure," I said sincerely.
"Have you been here before?"
"A few times. My mother and father like to come here
sometimes when my father
comes home from Washington."
She looked out the window and stared at a boat that was
passing by the
restaurant, its lights blazing. For a moment she seemed
lost in wonder. "It's
beautiful here," she said.
"So are you," I answered.
Jamie blushed. "You don't mean that."
"Yes," I said quietly, "I do."
We held hands while we waited for dinner, and Jamie and I
talked about some of
the things that had happened in the past few months. She
laughed when we talked
about the homecoming dance, and I finally admitted the
reason I'd asked her in
the first place. She was a good sport about it-she sort of
laughed it off
cheerfully-and I knew that she'd already figured it out on
her own.
"Would you want to take me again?" she teased.
"Absolutely."
Dinner was delicious-we both ordered the sea bass and
salads, and when the
waiter finally removed our plates, the music started up.
We had an hour left
before I had to take her home, and I offered her my hand.
At first we were the only ones on the floor, everyone
watching us as we glided
around the floor. I think they all knew how we were
feeling about each other,
and it reminded them of when they were young, too. I could
see them smiling
wistfully at us. The lights were dim, and when the singer
began a slow melody, I
held her close to me with my eyes closed, wondering if
anything in my life had
ever been this perfect and knowing at the same time that
it hadn't.
I was in love, and the feeling was even more wonderful
than I ever imagined it
could be.
After New Year's we spent the next week and a half
together, doing the things
that young couples did back then, though from time to time
she seemed tired and
listless. We spent time down by the Neuse River, tossing
stones in the water,
watching the ripples while we talked, or we went to the
beach near Fort Macon.
Even though it was winter, the ocean the color of iron, it
was something that
both of us enjoyed doing. After an hour or so Jamie would
ask me to take her
home, and we'd hold hands in the car. Sometimes, it
seemed, she would almost nod
off before we even got home, while other times she would
keep up a stream of
chatter all the way back so that I could barely get a word
in edgewise.
Of course, spending time with Jamie also meant doing the
things she enjoyed as
well. Though I wouldn't go to her Bible study class-I
didn't want to look like
an idiot in front of her-we did visit the orphanage twice
more, and each time we
went there, I felt more at home. Once, though, we'd had to
leave early, because
she was running a slight fever. Even to my untrained eyes,
it was clear that her
face was flushed.

"Why're you sorry?" I asked, suddenly desperate to
understand what was bothering
her. "Is it because of my friends and what they'll say? I
don't care anymore-I
really don't." I was reaching for anything, confused and,
yes-scared.
It took another long moment for her to stop crying, and in
time she looked up at
me. She kissed me gently, almost like the breath of a
passerby on a city street,
then ran her finger over my cheek.
"You can't be in love with me, Landon," she said through
red and swollen eyes.
"We can be friends, we can see each other . . . but
you can't love me."
"Why not?" I shouted hoarsely, not understanding any of
this.
"Because," she finally said softly, "I'm very sick,
Landon."
The concept was so absolutely foreign that I couldn't
comprehend what she was
trying to say.
"So what? You'll take a few days . . ."
A sad smile crossed her face, and I knew right then what
she was trying to tell
me. Her eyes never left mine as she finally said the words
that numbed my soul.
"I'm dying, Landon."

Chapter 12
She had leukemia; she'd known it since last summer.
The moment she told me, the blood drained from my face and
a sheaf of dizzying
images fluttered through my mind. It was as though in that
brief moment, time
had suddenly stopped and I understood everything that had
happened between us. I
understood why she'd wanted me to do the play: I
understood why, after we'd
performed that first night, Hegbert had whispered to her
with tears in his eyes,
calling her his angel; I understood why he looked so tired
all the time and why
he fretted that I kept coming by the house. Everything