The Best of Me (45 page)

When the family was informed they could go in and visit Jared, Frank shook his head.

“Go ahead,” he said to Amanda. “We’ll wait. We’ll see him after you come out.”

Amanda followed the nurse to the recovery room. Up ahead, Dr. Mills was waiting for her.

“He’s awake.” He nodded, falling into step with her. “But I want to warn you that he had a lot of questions and didn’t take the news too well. All I ask is that you do your best not to upset him.”

“What should I say?”

“Just talk to him,” he answered. “You’ll know what to say. You’re his mother.”

Outside the recovery room, Amanda took a deep breath, and
Dr. Mills pushed open the door. She entered the brightly lit room, immediately spotting her son in a bed with the curtains drawn back.

Jared was ghostly pale, and his cheeks were still hollowed out. He rolled his head to the side, a brief smile crossing his face.

“Hi, Mom,” he whispered, his words fuzzy with the remnants of anesthesia.

Amanda touched his arm, careful not to disturb the countless tubes and swaths of medical tape and instruments attached to his body. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

“Tired,” he mumbled. “Sore.”

“I know,” she said. She brushed the hair from his forehead before taking a seat in the hard plastic chair beside him. “And you’ll probably be sore for a while. But you won’t have to be here long. Just a week or so.”

He blinked, his eyelids moving slowly. Like he used to do as a little boy, right before she turned out the lights at bedtime.

“I have a new heart,” he said. “The doctor said I had no choice.”

“Yes,” she answered.

“What does that mean?” Jared’s arm jerked in agitation. “Am I going to have a normal life?”

“Of course you will,” she said soothingly.

“They took out my
heart
, Mom.” He gripped the sheet on the bed. “They told me that I’m going to be taking drugs forever.”

Confusion and apprehension played across his youthful features. He understood that his future had been irrevocably altered, and while she wished she could shield him from this new reality, she knew she couldn’t.

“Yes,” she said, her gaze never wavering. “You had a heart transplant. And yes, you’ll be on drugs forever. But those things also mean you’re alive.”

“For how long? Even the doctors can’t tell me that.”

“Does that really matter right now?”

“Of course it matters,” Jared snapped. “They told me that the average transplant lasts fifteen to twenty years. And then I’ll probably need another heart.”

“Then you’ll get another one. And in between, you’re going to live, and after that, you’ll live some more. Just like everyone else.”

“You don’t understand what I’m trying to say.” Jared turned his face away, toward the wall on the far side of the bed.

Amanda saw his reaction and searched for the right words to reach him, to help him accept this new world he’d woken up to. “When I was waiting in the hospital for the last couple of days, do you know what I was thinking?” she began. “I was thinking that there were so many things that you still haven’t done, things you still haven’t experienced. Like the satisfaction of graduating from college, or the thrill of buying a house, or the excitement of landing that perfect job, or meeting the girl of your dreams and falling in love.”

Jared didn’t show any signs of having heard her, but she could tell by his alert stillness that he was listening. “You’ll still be able to do all those things,” she went on. “You’ll make mistakes and struggle like everyone, but when you’re with the right person, you’ll feel almost perfect joy, like you’re luckiest person who ever lived.” She reached over to pat his arm. “And in the end, a heart transplant has nothing to do with any of those things. Because you’re still alive. And that means you’ll love and be loved… and in the end, nothing else really matters.”

Jared lay without moving, long enough to make Amanda wonder if he’d fallen asleep in his postoperative haze. Then he gradually turned his head.

“You really believe everything you just said?” His voice was tentative.

For the first time since she’d heard about the accident, Amanda thought of Dawson Cole. She leaned in closer.

“Every word.”

M
organ Tanner stood in Tuck’s garage, his hands clasped before him as he examined the wreckage that had once been the Stingray. He grimaced, thinking that the owner wasn’t going to be happy about this.

The damage was obviously recent. There was a tire iron protruding from a quarter panel that had been partially peeled back from the frame, and he was certain that neither Dawson nor Amanda would have let it remain so, had they seen it. Nor could they be responsible for the chair that had been tossed through the window onto the porch. All of this was likely the work of Ted and Abee Cole.

Though he wasn’t native to Oriental, he had become attuned to the rhythms of the town. He’d learned over time that if he listened carefully at Irvin’s, it was possible to learn a great deal about the history of this part of the world, and the people who lived here. Of course, in a place like Irvin’s, any information had to be taken with a grain of salt. Rumors, gossip, and innuendo were as common as actual truth. Still, he knew more about the Cole family than most people would have expected. Including quite a bit about Dawson.

After Tuck had spoken to him about his plans for Dawson and Amanda, Tanner had been concerned enough for his own safety
to learn what he could about the Coles. Though Tuck vouched for Dawson’s character, Tanner had taken the time to talk to the sheriff who’d arrested him, as well as the prosecutor and public defender. The legal community in Pamlico County was small, and it was easy enough to get his colleagues talking about one of Oriental’s most storied crimes.

Both the prosecutor and public defender had believed there’d been another car on the road that night, and that Dawson had swerved out of the way to avoid it. But given that the judge and sheriff back then were friends of Marilyn Bonner’s family, there was little they could do. It was enough to make Tanner frown at the realities of small-town justice. After that, he spoke to the retired warden of the prison in Halifax, who informed him that Dawson had been a model inmate. He also called some of Dawson’s prior employers in Louisiana, to verify that his character was sound and trustworthy. Only then did he agree to Tuck’s request for assistance.

Now, aside from finalizing details of Tuck’s estate—and handling the situation with the Stingray—his role in all of this was over. Considering all that had happened, including the arrests of both Ted and Abee Cole, he felt fortunate that his name had not been dragged into any of the conversations he’d overheard at Irvin’s. And like the good lawyer he was, he had volunteered nothing.

Still, the entire situation troubled him more deeply than he let on. He’d even gone so far as to make some unorthodox calls during the past couple of days, putting him squarely outside his comfort zone.

Turning away from the car, he scanned the workbench, hunting for the work order, hoping it included the phone number of the Stingray’s owner. He found it on the clipboard, and a quick perusal gave him all the information he needed. He was setting the clipboard back onto the bench when he spotted something familiar.

He picked it up, knowing he’d seen it before, and examined
it for a moment. He considered the ramifications before reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. He scrolled through his contact list, found the name, and hit
CALL
.

On the other end, the phone began to ring.

Amanda had spent most of the past two days at the hospital with Jared, and she was actually looking forward to sleeping in her own bed later that night. Not only was the chair next to his bed incredibly uncomfortable, but Jared himself had urged her to leave.

“I need some time alone,” he’d told her.

While she sat in the small terraced garden enjoying a bit of fresh air, Jared was upstairs meeting with the psychologist for the first time, much to her relief. Physically, she knew he was making excellent progress. Emotionally, however, was another matter. Though she wanted to think their conversation had opened the door at least a crack to a new way of thinking about his condition, Jared was suffering from the sense that years had been stolen from his life. He wanted what he’d had before, a perfectly healthy body and a relatively uncomplicated future, but that was no longer possible. He was on immunosuppressants so his body wouldn’t reject the new heart, and since those made him prone to infection, he was taking high doses of antibiotics as well, and a diuretic had been prescribed to prevent fluid retention. And though he’d be released the following week, he would have to attend regular appointments at the outpatient clinic to monitor his progress for at least a year. He would also be required to undergo supervised physiotherapy and was told that he’d be placed on a restrictive diet. All that in addition to talking with the psychologist on a weekly basis.

The road ahead would be challenging for the entire family, but where there had once been nothing but despair, Amanda now felt hope. Jared was stronger than he thought he was. It would
take time, but he’d find a way to get through all this. In the past two days, she’d noticed flashes of his strength, even if he hadn’t been aware of it himself. And the psychologist, she knew, would help him as well.

Frank and her mom had been shuttling Annette to and from the hospital; Lynn had been driving here on her own. Amanda knew she hadn’t been spending as much time with her girls as she should. They were struggling, too, but what choice did she have?

Tonight, she decided, she’d pick up a pizza on the way home. Afterward, maybe they’d watch a movie together. It wasn’t much, but right now it was all she could really do. Once Jared got out of the hospital, things would start getting back to normal again. She should call her mother to tell her of her plans…

Digging into her purse, she pulled out her phone and noticed a number on the screen she didn’t recognize. Her voice-mail icon was blinking as well.

Curious, she called up voice mail and put the phone to her ear, listening as Morgan Tanner’s slow drawl came through, asking her to call when she had the chance.

She dialed the number. Tanner picked up immediately.

“Thank you for returning my call,” he said, with the same cordial formality he had shown when Amanda and Dawson had met with him. “Before I get started, please know that I’m sorry to call at such a difficult time for you.”

She blinked in confusion, wondering how he’d known. “Thank you… but Jared is doing much better. We’re very relieved.”

Tanner was silent, as if trying to interpret what she’d just said. “Well, then… I was calling because I went to Tuck’s house earlier this morning and while I was examining the car—”

“Oh, that’s right,” Amanda interrupted. “I meant to tell you about that. Dawson finished repairing it before he left. It should be ready to go.”

Again, Tanner took a few seconds before going on. “My point
is, I found the letter that Tuck had written to Dawson,” he continued. “He must have left it here, and I wasn’t sure whether you wanted me to forward it to you.”

Amanda moved the phone to her other ear, wondering why he was calling her. “It was Dawson’s,” she said. “You should probably send it to him, shouldn’t you?”

She heard him exhale on the other end. “I take it you haven’t heard what happened,” he said slowly. “On Sunday night? At the Tidewater?”