I made a single stop on my way, my usual. I think the man there had come to know me, since I made the same purchase every time. When he saw me come in, he waited by the counter, nodded when I told him what I wanted, then returned a few minutes later. We had never shared small talk in all the time I'd been coming to his shop. He didn't ask me what they were for; he never did.
He did, however, say the same thing every time he handed them to me:
"They're the freshest I've got."
He took my money and rang up the purchase. On my way back to the car, I could smell them, their sweet, honeyed fragrance, and I knew he was right. The flowers, once again, were beautiful.
I set them on the car seat beside me. I followed roads familiar to me, roads I wish I'd never traveled, and I parked outside the gates. I steeled myself as I stepped out of the car.
I saw no one in the cemetery. Gripping my jacket near the collar to pull it tighter, I walked with my head down; I didn't have to watch where I was going. The ground was wet, clinging to my feet. In a minute, I was at the grave.
As always, I was struck by how small it was.
It was ridiculous to think this, but as I stared, I couldn't help it. The grave, I noticed, was well tended. The grass was neatly trimmed, and there was a silk carnation in a small holder in front of the headstone. It was red, as was every other carnation near every other headstone I could see, and I knew that the groundskeeper had placed them all.
I bent over and propped the flowers against the granite, making sure not to touch the stone. I never had. It wasn't, nor had it ever been, mine.
Afterwards, my mind drifted. Usually, I thought about Missy and the wrong decisions I had made; on that day, I found my thoughts drawn to Miles.
I think that was the reason why I didn't hear the approaching footsteps until they were already upon me.
"Flowers," Miles said.
Brian turned at the sound of his voice, half-surprised, half-terrified.
Miles was standing near an oak tree whose limbs fanned out over the ground. He was wearing a long black coat and jeans; his hands were buried in his pockets.
Brian felt the blood drain from his face.
"She doesn't need flowers anymore," Miles said. "You can stop bringing them."
Brian didn't respond. What was there really to say?
Miles stared at him. With the sun sinking below the horizon, his face was shadowed and dark, his features hidden. Brian had no idea what he was thinking. Miles pushed the coat outward with both hands, as if he were holding something beneath its folds.
Hiding something.
Miles made no move toward Brian, and for a fleeting second, Brian had the urge to run. To escape. He was younger by fifteen years, after all--a quick burst might be enough to allow him to reach the road. Cars would be there, people would be all around.
But just as quickly as the thought came, it left him, draining whatever energy he had. He didn't have any reserves left. He hadn't eaten for days. He'd never make it, not if Miles really wanted to catch him.
And more than that, Brian knew he didn't have any place to go.
So Brian faced him. Miles was twenty feet away, and Brian saw his chin rise slightly. Miles met his gaze. Brian waited for him to do something, make a gesture; perhaps, he thought, Miles was waiting for the same thing. It struck Brian that they must have looked like a couple of gunfighters in the Old West, preparing to draw.
When the silence became too much to bear, Brian looked away, toward the street. He noticed that Miles's car was parked behind his, the only two he could see. They were alone here, among the gravestones.
"How did you know I was here?" Brian finally asked.
Miles took his time in answering. "I followed you," he said. "I figured you'd be leaving the house sometime and I wanted to be alone with you."
Brian swallowed, wondering how long Miles had been watching him.
"You bring flowers, but you don't even know who she was, do you?" Miles said quietly. "If you knew her, you would have been bringing tulips. Those were the ones she would have wanted here. Those were her favorite--yellows, reds, pinks--she loved them all. She used to plant a garden every spring with tulips. Did you know that?"
No, Brian thought, I didn't. In the distance, he heard the whistle of a train.
"Did you know that Missy used to worry about the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes? Or that her favorite breakfast was French toast? Or that she always wanted to own a classic Mustang convertible? Or that when she laughed, it was all I could do to keep my hands off her? Did you know she was the first woman I'd ever loved?"
Miles paused, willing Brian to look at him.
"That's all I have left now. Memories. And there will never be any more. You took that from me. And you took that from Jonah, too. Did you know that Jonah has had nightmares since she died? That he still cries out for his mother in his sleep? I have to take him in my arms and hold him for hours until it finally stops. Do you know how that makes me feel?"
His eyes pierced Brian's, pinning him to the patch of ground where he stood.
"I spent two years looking for the man who ruined my life. Jonah's life. I lost those two years because it was all I could think about."
Miles glanced toward the ground and shook his head.
"I wanted to find the person who killed her. I wanted that person to know how much he'd taken away from me that night. And I wanted the man who killed Missy to pay for what he did. You have no idea how much those thoughts consumed me. Part of me still wants to kill him. To do the same thing to his family that he did to mine. And now, I'm looking at the man who did it. And this man is putting the wrong flowers on my wife's grave."
Brian felt his throat constrict.
"You killed my wife," he said. "I'll never forgive you, and I'll never forget. When you look in the mirror, I want you to remember that. And I don't want you to ever forget all that you took from me. You took away the person that I loved most in the world, you took my son's mother, and you took two years from my life. Do you understand?"
After a long moment, Brian nodded.
"Then understand something else. Sarah can know what happened here, but only her. You take this conversation--and everything else--to your grave. Tell no one else about any part of it. Ever. Not your parents, not your wife, not your kids, not your minister, not your buddies. And make sure you do something with your life, something that doesn't make me regret what I'm doing. Promise me those things."
Miles stared, making sure Brian had heard him, until Brian nodded again. Then, Miles turned to leave. A minute later, he was gone.
Only then did Brian realize that Miles was letting him go.
Later that night, when Miles opened the door, Sarah simply stood on the doorstep looking at him wordlessly, until Miles finally stepped out, closing the door behind him.
"Jonah's home," he said. "We'll talk outside."
Sarah crossed her arms and looked out over the yard. Miles followed her eyes.
"I'm not sure why I'm here," she said. "Thanking you doesn't seem very appropriate, but I can't ignore what you did, either."
Miles nodded almost imperceptibly.
"I'm so sorry for everything. I can't even begin to imagine what you've been going through."
"No," he said. "You can't."
"I didn't know about Brian. I really didn't."
"I know." He glanced toward her. "I shouldn't have believed it otherwise. And I'm sorry for the accusations."
Sarah shook her head. "Don't be."
He looked away, seeming to struggle for words. "I guess I should thank you for letting me know what really happened."
"I had to. I didn't have a choice." Then, after he grew quiet again, Sarah brought her hands together. "How's Jonah doing with all this?"
"Okay. Not great. He doesn't know anything, but I think he sensed that something was going on by the way I was acting. He's had a couple of nightmares in the last few days. How's he doing in school?"
&n
bsp; "So far, he's fine. In the last couple of days, I haven't noticed anything unusual."
"That's good."
Sarah ran a hand through her hair. "Can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
Miles turned. "Why did I let Brian go?"
She nodded.
It took a long time to answer. "I saw the dog."
She turned toward him in surprise.
"A big black dog, just like Brian said. He was running around in a yard a couple of houses up from where the accident happened."
"You just drove by and happened to see him?"
"No, not exactly. I went looking for him."
"To find out if Brian was telling the truth?"
He shook his head. "No, not really. I pretty much knew that he was telling the truth by then. But I had this crazy notion in my head that I just couldn't get rid of."
"What notion?"
"Like I said, it was crazy."
She looked at him curiously, waiting.
"When I got home that day--when Brian told me, I mean--I just got to thinking that I had to do something. Someone had to pay for what happened, but I just didn't know who until it hit me. So I got my father's gun, and the next night, I went out to look for the damn dog."
"You were going to shoot the dog?"
He shrugged. "I wasn't sure I'd even get the chance, but as soon as I pulled up, there he was. He was chasing a squirrel through the yard."
"So you did it?"
"No. I got close enough to do it, but when I got him in my sights, I got to thinking how insane it was. I mean, I was out hunting somebody's pet. Only someone seriously deranged would do that. So I turned around and got in my car. I let him go."
She smiled. "Like Brian."
"Yeah," he said. "Like Brian."
She reached for his hand, and after a moment, he let her take it. "I'm glad," she said.
"I'm not. Part of me wishes that I would have. At least then I'd know that I'd done something."
"You did do something."
Miles squeezed her hand before letting go. "I did it for me, too. And for Jonah. It was time to let it go. I'd already lost two years of my life, and I couldn't see the point in prolonging it anymore. Once I realized that...I don't know ... it just seemed like it was the only thing I could do. No matter what happened to Brian, Missy wasn't coming back."
He brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, and neither one of them said anything for a while. The stars were out in full glory above them, and Miles found his eyes traveling to Polaris, the North Star.
"I'm going to need some time," he said softly.
She nodded, knowing he was talking about them, now. "I know."
"I can't tell you how long it'll be, either."
Sarah glanced toward him. "Do you want me to wait?"
It took a long moment for him to answer.
"I can't make any promises, Sarah. About us, I mean. It's not that I don't love you anymore, because I do. I've spent the last couple of days agonizing over that fact. You're the best thing that's happened to me since Missy died. Hell, you're the only good thing that happened. For Jonah, too. He asked why you haven't been over lately, and I know he misses you. But no matter how much I want that to go on, part of me just can't imagine it. It's not as if I can forget what happened. And you're his sister."
Sarah's lips tightened. She said nothing.
"I don't know if I can live with that, even though you had nothing to do with it, because being with you means that in a way, I have to be with him, too. He's your family and...I'm not ready for that. I wouldn't be able to handle that. And I don't know whether I'll ever be ready."
"We could move away," she suggested. "We could try to start over."
He shook his head. "No matter how far I go, this will follow. You know that...."
He trailed off, then looked at her. "I don't know what to do."
She smiled sadly. "Neither do I," she admitted.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
After a moment, Miles moved closer and put his arms around her. He kissed her gently, then held her for a long time, burying his face in her hair.
"I do love you, Sarah," he whispered.
She forced aside the lump in her throat and leaned into him, feeling his body close to hers and wondering whether this would be the last time he held her like this.
"I love you, too, Miles."
After he let her go, Sarah stepped back, trying to stop the tears. Miles stood without moving, and Sarah reached for her keys in the pocket of her jacket. She heard the jingle as she pulled them out. She couldn't form the words to say goodbye, knowing that this time, it might be forever.
"I'll let you get back to Jonah," she said.
In the soft glow of the porch light, she thought she saw tears in his eyes as well.
Sarah swiped at her tears. "I bought a Christmas gift for Jonah. Would it be all right to bring it by?"
Miles glanced away. "We might not be here. I was thinking of heading up to Nags Head next week. Charlie's got a place up there and he said I could use it. I just need to get away for a while, you know?"
She nodded. "I'll be around if you want to reach me by phone."
"Okay," he murmured.
No promises, she thought.
She took a step backward, feeling empty, wishing for something to say that would change everything. With a tight smile, she turned and went to the car, doing her best to keep control. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the door, and she looked back at him. He hadn't moved; his mouth was set in a straight line.
She slid behind the wheel.
As Miles watched her, he wanted to call out her name, to ask her to stay, to tell her that he would find some way to make this work between them. That he loved her now and always would.
But he didn't.
Sarah turned the key and the engine hummed to life. Miles moved toward the stairs and her heart surged, but she realized he was moving toward the door. He wasn't going to stop her. She put the car in reverse and started to back out.
His face was shadowed now, growing smaller as the car rolled backward. She could feel her cheeks getting wet.
As he opened the door, Sarah had the sinking realization that this would be her last image of him. She couldn't stay in New Bern the way things were. Seeing Miles around town would be too hard; she'd have to find another job. Somewhere she could start over.
Again.
On the road, she accelerated slowly into the darkness, willing herself not to look back.
I'll be fine, she told herself. No matter what happens, I'll make it, just as I made it before. With or without Miles, I can do that.
No, you can't, a voice inside her cried suddenly.
She broke down then, the tears coming hard, and she pulled to the side of the road. As the car idled and steam began to cloud the windows, Sarah cried as she'd never cried before.
Chapter 37
Where were you?" Jonah asked. "I looked around, but I couldn't find you."
Sarah had left half an hour earlier, but Miles had stayed on the porch. He'd just stepped inside when Jonah spotted him and came to a halt. Miles motioned over his shoulder.
"I was on the porch."
"What were you doing out there?"
"Sarah came by."
Jonah's face brightened. "She did? Where is she?"
"No, she isn't here. She couldn't stay."
"Oh . . ." Jonah looked up at his father. "Okay," he said, not hiding his disappointment. "I just wanted to show her the Lego tower that I built."
Miles went to his side and squatted until he was eye level with Jonah. "You can show me."
"You've already seen it."
"I know. But you can show me again."
"You don't have to. I wanted Miss Andrews to see it."
"Well, I'm sorry about that. Maybe you can bring it to school tomorrow and show her then."
Jonah shrugged. "That's okay."
&
nbsp; Miles looked at him closely. "What's wrong, champ?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sure?"
Jonah didn't answer right away. "I guess I just miss her, that's all."
"Who? Miss Andrews?"
"Yeah."
"But you see her in school every day."
"I know. But it's not the same."
"As when she's here, you mean?"
He nodded, looking lost. "Did you guys have a fight?"
"No."
"But you're not friends anymore."
"Of course we are. We're still friends."
"Then why doesn't she come over anymore?"
Miles cleared his throat. "Well, things are kind of complicated right now. When you're a grown-up, you'll understand."
"Oh," he said. He seemed to think about that. "I don't want to be a grown-up," he finally declared.
"Why not?"
"Because," he said, "grown-ups always say that things are complicated."
"Sometimes they are."
"Do you still like Miss Andrews?"
"Yeah," he said, "I do."
"Does she like you?"
"I think so."
"Then what's so complicated?" His eyes were pleading, and Miles knew then with certainty that Jonah not only missed Sarah, he loved her as well.
"Come here," he said, drawing Jonah close, not knowing what else to do.
Two days later, Charlie pulled up in front of Miles's house as he was loading a few things into the car.
"Taking off already?"
Miles turned. "Oh ... hey, Charlie. I figured it'd be better if we got going a little early. I don't want to be stuck in traffic."
He closed the trunk and stood. "Thanks again for letting us use your place out there."
"No problem. You need a hand?"
"No. I'm just about done."
"How long you gonna stay?"
"I don't know. Maybe a couple of weeks, until just after the New Year. You sure it's okay?"
"Don't worry about it--you've got enough vacation time to spend a month up there."
Miles shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe I will."
Charlie cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, by the way, I came by to let you know that Harvey isn't going to press charges. Seems that Otis told him to drop it. So, officially, your suspension is over and you'll be able to work again when you get back."
"Good."
Jonah came bursting out the door, and both of them turned at the sound. Jonah called hello to Charlie, then turned around and ran back inside as if he'd forgotten something.