The Best of Me by Nicholas Sparks Page A

her hair had turned gray and her skin looked sallow. She, on the other hand, knew exactly who he was, and before he could say a word, she began screaming at him to leave, shrieking that he’d ruined her life, that he’d killed her husband, that she didn’t even have enough money to fix the leaking roof or hire the workers she needed. She screamed that the bankers were threatening to foreclose on the orchard, and then that she was going to call the police. She warned him never to come back. Dawson left, but later that night he returned to the farmhouse and studied the decaying structure; he walked the rows of peach and apple trees. The following week, after receiving his paycheck from Tuck, he went to the bank and had a cashier’s check sent to Marilyn Bonner for almost the entire amount, along with everything he’d saved since he’d gotten out of prison, with no note attached.
    In the years since then, Marilyn’s life had gotten better. Herparents eventually died and the farmhouse and orchard passed to her; though it had been a struggle at times, she’d slowly been able to make up the outstanding loan payments and carry out the necessary repairs. She now owned the land free and clear. She’d started a mail-order business a few years after he’d left town, selling homemade canned preserves. With the help of the Internet, her business had grown to the point where she no longer worried about paying the bills. Though she’d never remarried, she’d been dating an accountant named Leo for almost sixteen years.
    As for the kids, Emily graduated from East Carolina University and eventually moved to Raleigh, where she worked as a manager in a department store, preparing most likely to take over her mom’s business one day. Alan lived in the orchard in a double-wide that his mom had purchased for him and hadn’t gone to college, but he had a steady job and in the photographs that were sent to Dawson, he always seemed happy.
    Once a year, the photographs arrived in Louisiana along with a brief update on Marilyn, Emily, and Alan; the private detectives he’d hired had always been thorough but had never pried too deeply.
    He sometimes felt guilty about having the Bonners followed, but he had to know whether he’d been able to make even the smallest positive difference in their lives. That’s all he’d wanted since the night of the accident, and it was the reason he’d been sending checks monthly for the past two decades, almost always through anonymous offshore bank accounts. He was, after all, responsible for the greatest loss their family had experienced, and as he ran the quiet streets he knew he was willing to do whatever he could to make amends.

    Abee Cole could feel the fever inside him making him sick, and he shivered despite the heat. Two days ago, he’d taken his baseball bat to a guy who had provoked him, and the guy had surprisedhim with a box cutter. A dirty one that left an evil-looking slash yawning across his gut. Earlier this morning, he noticed green pus oozing out, smelling like a sewer despite the drugs that were supposed to help. If the fever didn’t break soon, he had half a mind to take the bat to his cousin Calvin, since he’d sworn the antibiotics he’d stolen from the veterinary office would work.
    Right now, though, he was distracted by the sight of Dawson running on the opposite side of the street, and he considered what to do about him.
    Ted was in the convenience store behind him, and he wondered whether he’d spotted Dawson. Probably not; otherwise he’d be rushing out of the store like a wild boar. Ever since he’d heard that Tuck went toes up, Ted had been waiting for Dawson to show up. Probably while sharpening his knives and loading his guns and checking his grenades or bazookas or whatever the hell other weapons he kept at that rat hole he shared with Ella, that little tramp whore of his.
    Ted wasn’t quite right in the head. Never had been right. Just a bundle of rage, that