Free A Bend in the Road by Nicholas Sparks Page B

to back up. Sarah had learned
that if she was ever running late for an appointment, she could claim that she
“got caught on the bridge.” Everyone in town from doctors to judges would
accept the excuse without question, simply because they had used it
themselves.  “It’s good to hear you
laugh again,” Maureen murmured after a moment.
    Sarah glanced
sideways at her.
    “Don’t look so
surprised. There was a while there when you didn’t. A long while.” Maureen
touched Sarah’s knee gently. “Don’t let Michael hurt you anymore, okay? You’ve
moved on—remember that.”
    Sarah nodded
almost imperceptibly, and Maureen pressed on with the monologue that Sarah had
practically memorized by now.
    “And you’ll
keep moving on, too. One day you’ll find someone who’ll love you as you are—”
“Mom . . .” Sarah interrupted, stretching out the word and shaking her
head.  Their conversations these days
seemed always to come back to this.  For
once, her mother caught herself. She reached for Sarah’s hand again, and even
though Sarah pulled it away at first, she persisted until Sarah relented.  “I can’t help it if I want you to be happy,”
she said. “Can you understand that?”
    Sarah forced a
smile, hoping it would satisfy her mother.
    “Yeah, Mom, I
understand.”

A Bend in the Road

Chapter 7
    On Monday,
Jonah began the process of settling into the routine that would come to
dominate much of his life over the next few months. When the bell rang,
officially ending the school day, Jonah walked out with his friends but left
his backpack in the classroom. Sarah, like all the other teachers, went outside
to make sure kids got in the proper cars and onto the right buses. Once
everyone was on the buses and the cars were pulling out, Sarah wandered over to
where Jonah was standing. He stared wistfully at his departing friends.  “I bet you wish you didn’t have to stay, huh?”
    Jonah nodded.
    “It won’t be so
bad. I brought some cookies from home to make it a little easier.”
    He thought
about that. “What kind of cookies?” he asked skeptically.  “Oreos. When I was going to school, my mom
always used to let me have a couple when I got home. She said it was my reward
for doing such a good job.” “Mrs. Knowlson likes to give me apple slices.”
    “Would you rather
have those tomorrow?”
    “No way,” he said
seriously. “Oreos are way better.”
    She motioned in
the direction of the school. “C’mon. You ready to get started?”
    “I guess so,” he
mumbled. Sarah reached out, offering her hand.
    Jonah looked up
at her. “Wait—do you have any milk?”
    “I can get some
from the cafeteria, if you want.”
    With that, Jonah
took her hand and smiled up at her for a moment before they headed back inside.
    • • •
    While Sarah and
Jonah were holding hands, heading toward the classroom, Miles Ryan was ducking
behind his car and reaching for his gun, even before the echo from the last
shot had died. And he intended to stay there until he figured out what was
going on.
    There was
nothing like gunfire to get the old ticker pumping—the instinct for
self-preservation always surprised Miles with both its intensity and its
rapidity. The adrenaline seemed to enter his system as if he were hooked to a
giant, invisible IV. He could feel his heart hammering, and his palms were
slick with sweat.
    If he needed
to, he could put out a call saying he was in trouble, and in less than a few
minutes the place would be surrounded by every law enforcement officer in the
county. But for the time being, he held off. For one thing, he didn’t think the
gunfire was directed at him. That he’d heard it wasn’t in question, but it had
sounded muffled, as if it had originated from somewhere deep in the house.
    Had he been
standing outside someone’s home, he would have made the call, figuring that
some sort of domestic issue had gotten out of hand. But he was at the Gregory
place, a teetering wood