A Walk to RememberNICHOLAS SPARKSPrologueWhen I was seventeen, my life changed forever.I know that there are people who wonder about me when I say this. They look at me strangely as if trying to fathom what could have happened back then, though I seldom bother to explain. Because I've lived here for most of my life, I don't feel that I have to unless it's on my terms, and that would take more time than most people are willing to give me. My story can't be summed up in two or three sentences; it can't be packaged into something neat and simple that people would immediately understand. Despite the passage of forty years, the people still living here who knew me that year accept my lack of explanation without question. My story in some ways is their story because it was something that all of us lived through.It was I, however, who was closest to it. I'm fifty-seven years old, but even now I can remember everything from that year, down to the smallest details. I relive that year often in my mind, bringing it back to life, and I realize that when I do, I always feel a strange combination of sadness and joy. There are moments when I wish I could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but I have the feeling that if I did, the joy would be gone as well. So I take the memories as they come, accepting them all, letting them guide me whenever I can. This happens more often than I let on.It is April 12, in the last year before the millennium, and as I leave my house, I glance around. The sky is overcast and gray, but as I move down the street, I notice that the dogwoods and azaleas are blooming. I zip my jacket just a little. The temperature is cool, though I know it's only a matter of weeks before it will settle in to something comfortable and the gray skies give way to the kind of days that make North Carolina one of the most beautiful places in the world. With a sigh, I feel it all coming back to me. I close my eyes and the years begin to move in reverse, slowly ticking backward, like the hands of a clock rotating in the wrong direction. As if through someone else's eyes, I watch myself grow younger; I see my hair changing from gray to brown, I feel the wrinkles around my eyes begin to smooth, my arms and legs grow sinewy. Lessons I've learned with age grow dimmer, and my innocence returns as that eventful year approaches.Then, like me, the world begins to change: roads narrow and some become gravel, suburban sprawl has been replaced with farmland, downtown streets teem with people, looking in windows as they pass Sweeney's bakery and Palka's meat shop. Men wear hats, women wear dresses. At the courthouse up the street, the bell tower rings. . . .I open my eyes and pause. I am standing outside the Baptist church, and when I stare at the gable, I know exactly who I am. My name is Landon Carter, and I'm seventeen years old.This is my story; I promise to leave nothing out.First you will smile, and then you will cry-don't say you haven't been warned.

So Hegbert decided to try his hand at writing his own play. He'd written his own sermons his whole life, and some of them, we had to admit, were actually interesting, especially when he talked about the "wrath of God coming down on the fornicators" and all that good stuff. That really got his blood boiling, I'll tell you, when he talked about the fornicators. That was his real hot spot. When we were younger, my friends and I would hide behind the trees and shout, "Hegbert is a fornicator!" when we saw him walking down the street, and we'd giggle like idiots, like we were the wittiest creatures ever to inhabit the planet.Old Hegbert, he'd stop dead in his tracks and his ears would perk up-I swear to God, they actually moved-and he'd turn this bright shade of red, like he'd just drunk gasoline, and the big green veins in his neck would start sticking out all over, like those maps of the Amazon River that you see in National Geographic. He'd peer from side to side, his eyes narrowing into slits as he searched for us, and then, just as suddenly, he'd start to go pale again, back to that fishy skin, right before our eyes. Boy, it was something to watch, that's for sure.So we'd be hiding behind a tree and Hegbert (what kind of parents name their kid Hegbert, anyway?) would stand there waiting for us to give ourselves up, as if he thought we'd be that stupid. We'd put our hands over our mouths to keep from laughing out loud, but somehow he'd always zero in on us. He'd be turning from side to side, and then he'd stop, those beady eyes coming right at us, right through the tree. "I know who you are, Landon Carter," he'd say, "and the Lord knows, too." He'd let that sink in for a minute or so, and then he'd finally head off again, and during the sermon that weekend he'd stare right at us and say something like "God is merciful to children, but the children must be worthy as well." And we'd sort of lower ourselves in the seats, not from embarrassment, but to hide a new round of giggles. Hegbert didn't understand us at all, which was really sort of strange, being that he had a kid and all. But then again, she was a girl. More on that, though, later.Anyway, like I said, Hegbert wrote The Christmas Angel one year and decided to put on that play instead. The play itself wasn't bad, actually, which surprised everyone the first year it was performed. It's basically the story of a man who had lost his wife a few years back. This guy, Tom Thornton, used to be real religious, but he had a crisis of faith after his wife died during childbirth. He's raising this little girl all on his own, but he hasn't been the greatest father, and what the little girl really wants for Christmas is a special music box with an angel engraved on top, a picture of which she'd cut out from an old catalog. The guy searches long and hard to find the gift, but he can't find it anywhere. So it's Christmas Eve and he's still searching, and while he's out looking through the stores, he comes across a strange woman he's never seen before, and she promises to help him find the gift for his daughter. First, though, they help this homeless person (back then they were called bums, by the way), then they stop at an orphanage to see some kids, then visit a lonely old woman who just wanted some company on Christmas Eve. At this point the mysterious woman asks Tom Thornton what he wants for Christmas, and he says that he wants his wife back. She brings him to the city fountain and tells him to look in the water and he'll find what he's looking for. When he looks in the water, he sees the face of his little girl, and he breaks down and cries right there. While he's sobbing, the mysterious lady runs off, and Tom Thornton searches but can't find her anywhere. Eventually he heads home, the lessons from the evening playing in his mind. He walks into his little girl's room, and her sleeping figure makes him realize that she's all he has left of his wife, and he starts to cry again because he knows he hasn't been a good enough father to her. The next morning, magically, the music box is underneath the tree, and the angel that's engraved on it looks exactly like the woman he'd seen the night before.

So it wasn't that bad, really. If truth be told, people cried buckets whenever they saw it. The play sold out every year it was performed, and due to its popularity, Hegbert eventually had to move it from the church to the Beaufort Playhouse, which had a lot more seating. By the time I was a senior in high school, the performances ran twice to packed houses, which, considering who actually performed it, was a story in and of itself.You see, Hegbert wanted young people to perform the play-seniors in high school, not the theater group. I reckon he thought it would be a good learning experience before the seniors headed off to college and came face-to-face with all the fornicators. He was that kind of guy, you know, always wanting to save us from temptation. He wanted us to know that God is out there watching you, even when you're away from home, and that if you put your trust in God, you'll be all right in the end. It was a lesson that I would eventually learn in time, though it wasn't Hegbert who taught me.As I said before, Beaufort was fairly typical as far as southern towns went, though it did have an interesting history. Blackbeard the pirate once owned a house there, and his ship, Queen Anne's Revenge, is supposedly buried somewhere in the sand just offshore. Recently some archaeologists or oceanographers or whoever looks for stuff like that said they found it, but no one's certain just yet, being that it sank over 250 years ago and you can't exactly reach into the glove compartment and check the registration. Beaufort's come a long way since the 1950s, but it's still not exactly a major metropolis or anything. Beaufort was, and always will be, on the smallish side, but when I was growing up, it barely warranted a place on the map. To put it into perspective, the congressional district that included Beaufort covered the entire eastern part of the state-some twenty thousand square miles-and there wasn't a single town with more than twenty-five thousand people. Even compared with those towns, Beaufort was regarded as being on the small side. Everything east of Raleigh and north of Wilmington, all the way to the Virginia border, was the district my father represented.I suppose you've heard of him. He's sort of a legend, even now. His name is Worth Carter, and he was a congressman for almost thirty years. His slogan every other year during the election season was "Worth Carter represents ---," and the person was supposed to fill in the city name where he or she lived. I can remember, driving on trips when me and Mom had to make our appearances to show the people he was a true family man, that we'd see those bumper stickers, stenciled in with names like Otway and Chocawinity and Seven Springs. Nowadays stuff like that wouldn't fly, but back then that was fairly sophisticated publicity. I imagine if he tried to do that now, people opposing him would insert all sorts of foul language in the blank space, but we never saw it once. Okay, maybe once. A farmer from Duplin County once wrote the word shit in the blank space, and when my mom saw it, she covered my eyes and said a prayer asking for forgiveness for the poor ignorant bastard. She didn't say exactly those words, but I got the gist of it.So my father, Mr. Congressman, was a bigwig, and everyone but everyone knew it, including old man Hegbert. Now, the two of them didn't get along, not at all, despite the fact that my father went to Hegbert's church whenever he was in town, which to be frank wasn't all that often. Hegbert, in addition to his belief that fornicators were destined to clean the urinals in hell, also believed that communism was "a sickness that doomed mankind to heathenhood." Even though heathenhood wasn't a word-I can't find it in any dictionary-the congregation knew what he meant. They also knew that he was directing his words specifically to my father, who would sit with his eyes closed and pretend not to listen. My father was on one of the House committees that oversaw the "Red influence" supposedly infiltrating every aspect of the country, including national defense, higher education, and even tobacco farming. You have to remember that this was during the cold war; tensions were running high, and we North Carolinians needed something to bring it down to a more personal level. My father had consistently looked for facts, which were irrelevant to people like Hegbert. Afterward, when my father would come home after the service, he'd say something like "Reverend Sullivan was in rare form today. I hope you heard that part about the Scripture where Jesus was talking about the poor. . . ."Yeah, sure, Dad. . . .

People knew the story even before the play was first performed. It was one of those stories that made its rounds whenever Hegbert had to baptize a baby or attend a funeral. Everyone knew about it, and that's why, I think, so many people got emotional whenever they saw the Christmas play. They knew it was based on something that happened in real life, which gave it special meaning.Jamie Sullivan was a senior in high school, just like me, and she'd already been chosen to play the angel, not that anyone else even had a chance. This, of course, made the play extra special that year. It was going to be a big deal, maybe the biggest ever-at least in Miss Garber's mind. She was the drama teacher, and she was already glowing about the possibilities the first time I met her in class.Now, I hadn't really planned on taking drama that year. I really hadn't, but it was either that or chemistry II. The thing was, I thought it would be a blow-off class, especially when compared with my other option. No papers, no tests, no tables where I'd have to memorize protons and neutrons and combine elements in their proper formulas . . . what could possibly be better for a high school senior? It seemed like a sure thing, and when I signed up for it, I thought I'd just be able to sleep through most every class, which, considering my late night peanut eating, was fairly important at the time.

So Miss Garber brings up the Christmas play and tells everyone that Jamie Sullivan is going to be the angel that year. Miss Garber started clapping right away-she was a member of the church, too-and there were a lot of people who thought she was gunning for Hegbert in a romantic sort of way. The first time I heard it, I remember thinking that it was a good thing they were too old to have children, if they ever did get together. Imagine-translucent with freckles? The very thought gave everyone shudders, but of course, no one ever said anything about it, at least within hearing distance of Miss Garber and Hegbert. Gossip is one thing, hurtful gossip is completely another, and even in high school we weren't that mean.Miss Garber kept on clapping, all alone for a while, until all of us finally joined in, because it was obvious that was what she wanted. "Stand up, Jamie," she said. So Jamie stood up and turned around, and Miss Garber started clapping even faster, as if she were standing in the presence of a bona fide movie star.Now Jamie Sullivan was a nice girl. She really was. Beaufort was small enough that it had only one elementary school, so we'd been in the same classes our entire lives, and I'd be lying if I said I never talked to her. Once, in second grade, she'd sat in the seat right next to me for the whole year, and we'd even had a few conversations, but it didn't mean that I spent a lot of time hanging out with her in my spare time, even back then. Who I saw in school was one thing; who I saw after school was something completely different, and Jamie had never been on my social calendar.It's not that Jamie was unattractive-don't get me wrong. She wasn't hideous or anything like that. Fortunately she'd taken after her mother, who, based on the pictures I'd seen, wasn't half-bad, especially considering who she ended up marrying. But Jamie wasn't exactly what I considered attractive, either. Despite the fact that she was thin, with honey blond hair and soft blue eyes, most of the time she looked sort of . . . plain, and that was when you noticed her at all. Jamie didn't care much about outward appearances, because she was always looking for things like "inner beauty," and I suppose that's part of the reason she looked the way she did. For as long as I'd known her-and this was going way back, remember-she'd always worn her hair in a tight bun, almost like a spinster, without a stitch of makeup on her face. Coupled with her usual brown cardigan and plaid skirt, she always looked as though she were on her way to interview for a job at the library. We used to think it was just a phase and that she'd eventually grow out of it, but she never had. Even through our first three years of high school, she hadn't changed at all. The only thing that had changed was the size of her clothes.

With Jamie, everything was in the Lord's plan. That was another thing. She always mentioned the Lord's plan whenever you talked to her, no matter what the subject. The baseball game's rained out? Must be the Lord's plan to prevent something worse from happening. A surprise trigonometry quiz that everyone in class fails? Must be in the Lord's plan to give us challenges. Anyway, you get the picture.Then, of course, there was the whole Hegbert situation, and this didn't help her at all. Being the minister's daughter couldn't have been easy, but she made it seem as if it were the most natural thing in the world and that she was lucky to have been blessed in that way. That's how she used to say it, too. "I've been so blessed to have a father like mine." Whenever she said it, all we could do was shake our heads and wonder what planet she actually came from.Despite all these other strikes, though, the one thing that really drove me crazy about her was the fact that she was always so damn cheerful, no matter what was happening around her. I swear, that girl never said a bad thing about anything or anyone, even to those of us who weren't that nice to her. She would hum to herself as she walked down the street, she would wave to strangers driving by in their cars. Sometimes ladies would come running out of their house if they saw her walking by, offering her pumpkin bread if they'd been baking all day or lemonade if the sun was high in the sky. It seemed as if every adult in town adored her. "She's such a nice young lady," they'd say whenever Jamie's name came up. "The world would be a better place if there were more people like her."But my friends and I didn't quite see it that way. In our minds, one Jamie Sullivan was plenty.I was thinking about all this while Jamie stood in front of us on the first day of drama class, and I admit that I wasn't much interested in seeing her. But strangely, when Jamie turned to face us, I kind of got a shock, like I was sitting on a loose wire or something. She wore a plaid skirt with a white blouse under the same brown cardigan sweater I'd seen a million times, but there were two new bumps on her chest that the sweater couldn't hide that I swore hadn't been there just three months earlier. She'd never worn makeup and she still didn't, but she had a tan, probably from Bible school, and for the first time she looked-well, almost pretty. Of course, I dismissed that thought right away, but as she looked around the room, she stopped and smiled right at me, obviously glad to see that I was in the class. It wasn't until later that I would learn the reason why.

Growing sort of panicky, I pulled out the yearbook from the year before and started flipping through the pages one by one, looking for anyone who might not have a date. First I looked through the pages with the seniors. Though a lot of them were off at college, a few of them were still around town. Even though I didn't think I had much of a chance with them, I called anyway, and sure enough, I was proven right. I couldn't find anyone, at least not anyone who would go with me. I was getting pretty good at handling rejection, I'll tell you, though that's not the sort of thing you brag about to your grandkids. My mom knew what I was going through, and she finally came into my room and sat on the bed beside me."If you can't get a date, I'll be happy to go with you," she said."Thanks, Mom," I said dejectedly.When she left the room, I felt even worse than I had before. Even my mom didn't think I could find somebody. And if I showed up with her? If I lived a hundred years, I'd never live that down.There was another guy in my boat, by the way. Carey Dennison had been elected treasurer, and he still didn't have a date, either. Carey was the kind of guy no one wanted to spend time with at all, and the only reason he'd been elected was because he'd run unopposed. Even then I think the vote was fairly close. He played the tuba in the marching band, and his body looked all out of proportion, as if he'd stopped growing halfway through puberty. He had a great big stomach and gangly arms and legs, like the Hoos in Hooville, if you know what I mean. He also had a high-pitched way of talking-it's what made him such a good tuba player, I reckon-and he never stopped asking questions. "Where did you go last weekend? Was it fun? Did you see any girls?" He wouldn't even wait for an answer, and he'd move around constantly as he asked so you had to keep turning your head to keep him in sight. I swear he was probably the most annoying person I'd ever met. If I didn't get a date, he'd stand off on one side with me all night long, firing questions like some deranged prosecutor.

So there I was, flipping through the pages in the junior class section, when I saw Jamie Sullivan's picture. I paused for just a second, then turned the page, cursing myself for even thinking about it. I spent the next hour searching for anyone halfway decent looking, but I slowly came to the realization that there wasn't anyone left. In time I finally turned back to her picture and looked again. She wasn't bad looking, I told myself, and she's really sweet. She'd probably say yes, I thought. . . .I closed the yearbook. Jamie Sullivan? Hegbert's daughter? No way. Absolutely not. My friends would roast me alive.But compared with dating your mother or cleaning up puke or even, God forbid . . Carey Dennison?I spent the rest of the evening debating the pros and cons of my dilemma. Believe me, I went back and forth for a while, but in the end the choice was obvious, even to me. I had to ask Jamie to the dance, and I paced around the room thinking of the best way to ask her.It was then that I realized something terrible, something absolutely frightening. Carey Dennison, I suddenly realized, was probably doing the exact same thing I was doing right now. He was probably looking through the yearbook, too! He was weird, but he wasn't the kind of guy who liked cleaning up puke, either, and if you'd seen his mother, you'd know that his choice was even worse than mine. What if he asked Jamie first? Jamie wouldn't say no to him, and realistically she was the only option he had. No one besides her would be caught dead with him. Jamie helped everyone-she was one of those equal opportunity saints. She'd probably listen to Carey's squeaky voice, see the goodness radiating from his heart, and accept right off the bat.So there I was, sitting in my room, frantic with the possibility that Jamie might not go to the dance with me. I barely slept that night, I tell you, which was just about the strangest thing I'd ever experienced. I don't think anyone ever fretted about asking Jamie out before. I planned to ask her first thing in the morning, while I still had my courage, but Jamie wasn't in school. I assumed she was working with the orphans over in Morehead City, the way she did every month. A few of us had tried to get out of school using that excuse, too, but Jamie was the only one who ever got away with it. The principal knew she was reading to them or doing crafts or just sitting around playing games with them. She wasn't sneaking out to the beach or hanging out at Cecil's Diner or anything. That concept was absolutely ludicrous.

"Got a date yet?" Eric asked me in between classes. He knew very well that I didn't, but even though he was my best friend, he liked to stick it to me once in a while."Not yet," I said, "but I'm working on it."Down the hall, Carey Denison was reaching into his locker. I swear he shot me a beady glare when he thought I wasn't looking.That's the kind of day it was.The minutes ticked by slowly during my final class. The way I figured it-if Carey and I got out at the same time, I'd be able to get to her house first, what with those gawky legs and all. I started to psych myself up, and when the bell rang, I took off from school running at a full clip. I was flying for about a hundred yards or so, and then I started to get kind of tired, and then a cramp set in. Pretty soon all I could do was walk, but that cramp really started to get to me, and I had to bend over and hold my side while I kept moving. As I made my way down the streets of Beaufort, I looked like a wheezing version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.Behind me I thought I heard Carey's high-pitched laughter. I turned around, digging my fingers into my gut to stifle the pain, but I couldn't see him. Maybe he was cutting through someone's backyard! He was a sneaky bastard, that guy. You couldn't trust him even for a minute.I started to stumble along even faster, and pretty soon I reached Jamie's street. By then I was sweating all over-my shirt was soaked right through-and I was still wheezing something fierce. Well, I reached her front door, took a second to catch my breath, and finally knocked. Despite my fevered rush to her house, my pessimistic side assumed that Carey would be the one who opened the door for me. I imagined him smiling at me with a victorious look in his eye, one that essentially meant "Sorry, partner, you're too late."But it wasn't Carey who answered, it was Jamie, and for the first time in my life I saw what she'd look like if she were an ordinary person. She was wearing jeans and a red blouse, and though her hair was still pulled up into a bun, she looked more casual than she usually did. I realized she could actually be cute if she gave herself the opportunity.

"Landon," she said as she held open the door, "this is a surprise!" Jamie was always glad to see everyone, including me, though I think my appearance startled her. "You look like you've been exercising," she said."Not really," I lied, wiping my brow. Luckily the cramp was fading fast."You've sweat clean through your shirt.""Oh, that?" I looked at my shirt. "That's nothing. I just sweat a lot sometimes.""Maybe you should have it checked by a doctor.""I'll be okay, I'm sure.""I'll say a prayer for you anyway," she offered as she smiled. Jamie was always praying for someone. I might as well join the club."Thanks," I said.She looked down and sort of shuffled her feet for a moment. "Well, I'd invite you in, but my father isn't home, and he doesn't allow boys in the house while he's not around.""Oh," I said dejectedly, "that's okay. We can talk out here, I guess." If I'd had my way, I would have done this inside."Would you like some lemonade while we sit?" she asked. "I just made some.""I'd love some," I said."I'll be right back." She walked back into the house, but she left the door open and I took a quick glance around. The house, I noticed, was small but tidy, with a piano against one wall and a sofa against the other. A small fan sat oscillating in the corner. On the coffee table there were books with names like Listening to Jesus and Faith Is the Answer. Her Bible was there, too, and it was opened to the chapter on Luke.

A moment later Jamie returned with the lemonade, and we took a seat in two chairs near the corner of the porch. I knew she and her father sat there in the evenings because I passed by their house now and then. As soon as we were seated, I saw Mrs. Hastings, her neighbor across the street, wave to us. Jamie waved back while I sort of scooted my chair so that Mrs. Hastings couldn't see my face. Even though I was going to ask Jamie to the dance, I didn't want anyone-even Mrs. Hastings-to see me there on the off chance that she'd already accepted Carey's offer. It was one thing to actually go with Jamie, it was another thing to be rejected by her in favor of a guy like Carey."What are you doing?" Jamie asked me. "You're moving your chair into the sun.""I like the sun," I said. She was right, though. Almost immediately I could feel the rays burning through my shirt and making me sweat again."If that's what you want," she said, smiling. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"Jamie reached up and started to adjust her hair. By my reckoning, it hadn't moved at all. I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself, but I couldn't force myself to come out with it just yet."So," I said instead, "you were at the orphanage today?"Jamie looked at me curiously. "No. My father and I were at the doctor's office.""Is he okay?"She smiled. "Healthy as can be."I nodded and glanced across the street. Mrs. Hastings had gone back inside, and I couldn't see anyone else in the vicinity. The coast was finally clear, but I still wasn't ready."Sure is a beautiful day," I said, stalling."Yes, it is.""Warm, too.""That's because you're in the sun."I looked around, feeling the pressure building. "Why, I'll bet there's not a single cloud in the whole sky."This time Jamie didn't respond, and we sat in silence for a few moments.

"Landon," she finally said, "you didn't come here to talk about the weather, did you?""Not really.""Then why are you here?"The moment of truth had arrived, and I cleared my throat."Well . . . I wanted to know if you were going to the homecoming dance.""Oh," she said. Her tone made it seem as if she were unaware that such a thing existed. I fidgeted in my seat and waited for her answer."I really hadn't planned on going," she finally said."But if someone asked you to go, you might?"It took a moment for her to answer."I'm not sure," she said, thinking carefully. "I suppose I might go, if I got the chance. I've never been to a homecoming dance before.""They're fun," I said quickly. "Not too much fun, but fun." Especially when compared to my other options, I didn't add.She smiled at my turn of phrase. "I'd have to talk to my father, of course, but if he said it was okay, then I guess I could."In the tree beside the porch, a bird started to chirp noisily, as if he knew I wasn't supposed to be here. I concentrated on the sound, trying to calm my nerves. Just two days ago I couldn't have imagined myself even thinking about it, but suddenly there I was, listening to myself as I spoke the magic words."Well, would you like to go to the dance with me?"I could tell she was surprised. I think she believed that the little lead-up to the question probably had to do with someone else asking her. Sometimes teenagers sent their friends out to "scout the terrain," so to speak, so as not to face possible rejection. Even though Jamie wasn't much like other teenagers, I'm sure she was familiar with the concept, at least in theory.Instead of answering right away, though, Jamie glanced away for a long moment. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach because I assumed she was going to say no. Visions of my mother, puke, and Carey flooded through my mind, and all of a sudden I regretted the way I'd behaved toward her all these years. I kept remembering all the times I'd teased her or called her father a fornicator or simply made fun of her behind her back. Just when I was feeling awful about the whole thing and imagining how I would ever be able to avoid Carey for five hours, she turned and faced me again. She had a slight smile on her face.

"I'd love to," she finally said, "on one condition."I steadied myself, hoping it wasn't something too awful."Yes?""You have to promise that you won't fall in love with me."I knew she was kidding by the way she laughed, and I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes, I had to admit, Jamie had a pretty good sense of humor. I smiled and gave her my word.Chapter 3As a general rule, Southern Baptists don't dance. In Beaufort, however, it wasn't a rule that was ever strictly enforced. The minister before Hegbert-don't ask me what his name was-took sort of a lax view about school dances as long as they were chaperoned, and because of that, they'd become a tradition of sorts. By the time Hegbert came along, it was too late to change things. Jamie was pretty much the only one who'd never been to a school dance and frankly, I didn't know whether she even knew how to dance at all.I admit that I also had some concerns about what she would wear, though it wasn't something I would tell her. When Jamie went to the church socials-which were encouraged by Hegbert-she usually wore an old sweater and one of the plaid skirts we saw in school every day, but the homecoming dance was supposed to be special. Most of the girls bought new dresses and the boys wore suits, and this year we were bringing in a photographer to take our pictures. I knew Jamie wasn't going to buy a new dress because she wasn't exactly well-off. Ministering wasn't a profession where people made a lot of money, but of course ministers weren't in it for mo
neta
ry gain, they were in it for the long haul, if you know what I mean. But I didn't want her to wear the same thing she wore to school every day, either. Not so much for me-I'm not that cold-hearted-but because of what others might say. I didn't want people to make fun of her or anything.

The good news, if there was any, was that Eric didn't rib me too bad about the whole Jamie situation because he was too busy thinking about his own date. He was taking Margaret Hays, who was the head cheerleader at our school. She wasn't the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but she was nice in her own way. By nice, of course, I'm talking about her legs. Eric offered to double-date with me, but I turned him down because I didn't want to take any chances with Eric teasing Jamie or anything like that. He was a good guy, but he could be kind of heartless sometimes, especially when he had a few shots of bourbon in him.The day of the dance was actually quite busy for me. I spent most of the afternoon helping to decorate the gym, and I had to get to Jamie's about a half hour early because her father wanted to talk to me, though I didn't know why. Jamie had sprung that one on me just the day before, and I can't say I was exactly thrilled by the prospect of it. I figured he was going to talk about temptation and the evil path it can lead us to. If he brought up fornication, though, I knew I would die right there on the spot. I said small prayers all day long in the hope of avoiding this conversation, but I wasn't sure if God would put my prayers on the front burner, if you know what I mean, because of the way I'd behaved in the past. I was pretty nervous just thinking about it.After I showered I put on my best suit, swung by the florist to pick up Jamie's corsage, then drove to her house. My mom had let me borrow the car, and I parked it on the street directly in front of Jamie's house. We hadn't turned the clocks back yet, so it was still light out when I got there, and I strolled up the cracked walkway to her door. I knocked and waited for a moment, then knocked again. From behind the door I heard Hegbert say, "I'll be right there," but he wasn't exactly racing to the door. I must have stood there for two minutes or so, looking at the door, the moldings, the little cracks in the windowsills. Off to the side were the chairs that Jamie and I had sat in just a few days back. The one I sat in was still turned in the opposite direction. I guess they hadn't sat there in the last couple of days.

Finally the door creaked open. The light coming from the lamp inside shadowed Hegbert's face slightly and sort of reflected through his hair. He was old, like I said, seventy-two years by my reckoning. It was the first time I'd ever seen him up close, and I could see all the wrinkles on his face. His skin really was translucent, even more so than I'd imagined."Hello, Reverend," I said, swallowing my trepidation. "I'm here to take Jamie to the homecoming dance.""Of course you are," he said. "But first, I wanted to talk with you.""Yes, sir, that's why I came early.""C'mon in."In church Hegbert was a fairly snappy dresser, but right now he looked like a farmer, dressed in overalls and a T-shirt. He motioned for me to sit on the wooden chair he'd brought in from the kitchen. "I'm sorry it took a little while to open the door. I was working on tomorrow's sermon," he said.I sat down."That's okay, sir." I don't know why, but you just had to call him "sir." He sort of projected that image."All right, then, so tell me about yourself."I thought it was a fairly ridiculous question, with him having such a long history with my family and all. He was also the one who had baptized me, by the way, and he'd seen me in church every Sunday since I'd been a baby."Well, sir," I began, not really knowing what to say, "I'm the student body president. I don't know whether Jamie mentioned that to you."He nodded. "She did. Go on.""And . . . well, I hope to go to the University of North Carolina next fall. I've already received the application."He nodded again. "Anything else?"I had to admit, I was running out of things after that. Part of me wanted to pick up the pencil off the end table and start balancing it, giving him the whole thirty seconds' worth, but he wasn't the kind of guy who would appreciate it."I guess not, sir.""Do you mind if I ask you a question?""No, sir."He sort of stared at me for a long time, as if thinking about it."Why did you ask my daughter to the dance?" he finally said.I was surprised, and I know that my expression showed it."I don't know what you mean, sir.""You're not planning to do anything to . . . embarrass her, are you?""No, sir," I said quickly, shocked by the accusation. "Not at all. I needed someone to go with, and I asked her. It's as simple as that.""You don't have any pranks planned?""No, sir. I wouldn't do that to her. . . ."

This went on for a few more minutes-his grilling me about my true intentions, I mean-but luckily Jamie stepped out of the back room, and her father and I both turned our heads at the same moment. Hegbert finally stopped talking, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She'd put on a nice blue skirt and a white blouse I'd never seen before. Fortunately she'd left her sweater in the closet. It wasn't too bad, I had to admit, though I knew she'd still be underdressed compared with others at the dance. As always, her hair was pulled up in a bun. Personally I think it would have looked better if she'd kept it down, but that was the last thing I wanted to say. Jamie looked like . . . well, Jamie looked exactly like she usually did, but at least she wasn't planning on bringing her Bible. That would have just been too much to live down."You're not giving Landon a hard time, are you?" she said cheerfully to her father."We were just visiting," I said quickly before he had a chance to respond. For some reason I didn't think he'd told Jamie about the kind of person he thought I was, and I didn't think that now would be a good time."Well, we should probably go," she said after a moment. I think she sensed the tension in the room. She walked over to her father and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't stay up too late working on the sermon, okay?""I won't," he said softly. Even with me in the room, I could tell he really loved her and wasn't afraid to show it. It was how he felt about me that was the problem.We said good-bye, and on our way to the car I handed Jamie her corsage and told her I'd show her how to put it on once we got in the car. I opened her door for her and walked around the other side, then got in as well. In that short period of time, Jamie had already pinned on the flower."I'm not exactly a dimwit, you know. I do know how to pin on a corsage."I started the car and headed toward the high school, with the conversation I'd just had with Hegbert running through my mind."My father doesn't like you very much," she said, as if knowing what I was thinking.I nodded without saying anything."He thinks you're irresponsible."I nodded again."He doesn't like your father much, either."I nodded once more."Or your family."I get the picture."But do you know what I think?" she asked suddenly."Not really." By then I was pretty depressed."I think that all this was in the Lord's plan somehow. What do you think the message is?"Here we go, I thought to myself.

I doubt if the evening could have been much worse, if you want to know the truth. Most of my friends kept their distance, and Jamie didn't have many friends to begin with, so we spent most of our time alone. Even worse, it turned out that my presence wasn't even required anymore. They'd changed the rule owing to the fact that Carey couldn't get a date, and that left me feeling pretty miserable about the whole thing as soon as I found out about it. But because of what her father had said to me, I couldn't exactly take her home early, now, could I? And more than that, she was really having a good time; even I could see that. She loved the decorations I'd helped put up, she loved the music, she loved everything about the dance. She kept telling me how wonderful everything was, and she asked me whether I might help her decorate the church someday, for one of their socials. I sort of mumbled that she should call me, and even though I said it without a trace of energy, Jamie thanked me for being so considerate. To be honest, I was depressed for at least the first hour, though she didn't seem to notice.Jamie had to be home by eleven o'clock, an hour before the dance ended, which made it somewhat easier for me to handle. Once the music started we hit the floor, and it turned out that she was a pretty good dancer, considering it was her first time and all. She followed my lead pretty well through about a dozen songs, and after that we headed to the tables and had what resembled an ordinary conversation. Sure, she threw in words like "faith" and "joy" and even "salvation," and she talked about helping the orphans and scooping critters off the highway, but she was just so damn happy, it was hard to stay down for long.So things weren't too terrible at first and really no worse than I had expected. It wasn't until Lew and Angela showed up that everything really went sour.They showed up a few minutes after we arrived. He was wearing that stupid T-shirt, Camels in his sleeve, and a glop of hair gel on his head. Angela hung all over him right from the beginning of the dance, and it didn't take a genius to realize she'd had a few drinks before she got there. Her dress was really flashy-her mother worked in a salon and was up on all the latest fashions-and I noticed she'd picked up that ladylike habit called chewing gum. She really worked that gum, chewing it almost like a cow working her cud.

Well, good old Lew spiked the punch bowl, and a few more people started getting tipsy. By the time the teachers found out, most of the punch was already gone and people were getting that glassy look in their eyes. When I saw Angela gobble up her second glass of punch, I knew I should keep my eye on her. Even though she'd dumped me, I didn't want anything bad to happen to her. She was the first girl I'd ever French-kissed, and even though our teeth clanked together so hard the first time we tried it that I saw stars and had to take aspirin when I got home, I still had feelings for her.So there I was, sitting with Jamie, barely listening as she described the wonders of Bible school, watching Angela out of the corner of my eye, when Lew spotted me looking at her. In one frenzied motion he grabbed Angela around the waist and dragged her over to the table, giving me one of those looks, the one that "means business." You know the one I'm talking about."Are you staring at my girl?" he asked, already tensing up."No.""Yeah, he was," Angela said, kind of slurring out the words. "He was staring right at me. This is my old boyfriend, the one I told you about."His eyes turned into little slits, just like Hegbert's were prone to do. I guess I have this effect on lots of people."So you're the one," he said, sneering.Now, I'm not much of a fighter. The only real fight I was ever in was in third grade, and I pretty much lost that one when I started to cry even before the guy punched me. Usually I didn't have much trouble staying away from things like this because of my passive nature, and besides, no one ever messed with me when Eric was around. But Eric was off with Margaret somewhere, probably behind the bleachers."I wasn't staring," I said finally, "and I don't know what she told you, but I doubt if it was true."His eyes narrowed. "Are you calling Angela a liar?" he sneered.Oops.I think he would have hit me right there, but Jamie suddenly worked her way into the situation.

"Don't I know you?" she said cheerfully, looking right at him. Sometimes Jamie seemed oblivious of situations that were happening right in front of her. "Wait-yes, I do. You work in the garage downtown. Your father's name is Joe, and your grandma lives out on Foster Road, by the railroad crossing."A look of confusion crossed Lew's face, as though he were trying to put together a puzzle with too many pieces."How do you know all that? What he'd do, tell you about me, too?""No," Jamie said, "don't be silly." She laughed to herself. Only Jamie could find humor at a time like this. "I saw your picture in your grandma's house. I was walking by, and she needed some help bringing in the groceries. Your picture was on the mantel."Lew was looking at Jamie as though she had cornstalks growing out of her ears.Meanwhile Jamie was fanning herself with her hand. "Well, we were just sitting down to take a breather from all that dancing. It sure gets hot out there. Would you like to join us? We've got a couple of chairs. I'd love to hear how your grandma is doing."She sounded so happy about it that Lew didn't know what to do. Unlike those of us who were used to this sort of thing, he'd never come across someone like Jamie before. He stood there for a moment or two, trying to decide if he should hit the guy with the girl who'd helped his grandma. If it sounds confusing to you, imagine what it was doing to Lew's petroleum-damaged brain.He finally skulked off without responding, taking Angela with him. Angela had probably forgotten how the whole thing started anyway, owing to the amount she'd had to drink. Jamie and I watched him go, and when he was a safe distance away, I exhaled. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath."Thanks," I said mumbled sheepishly, realizing that Jamie-Jamie!-was the one who'd saved me from grave bodily harm. Jamie looked at me strangely. "For what?" she asked, and when I didn't exactly spell it out for her, she went right back into her story about Bible school, as if nothing had happened at all. But this time I found myself actually listening to her, at least with one of my ears. It was the least I could do.It turns out that it wasn't the last we saw of either Lew or Angela that evening. The two glasses of punch had really done Angela in, and she threw up all over the ladies' rest room. Lew, being the classy guy he was, left when he heard her retching, sort of slinking out the way he came in, and that was the last I saw of him. Jamie, as fate would have it, was the one who found Angela in the bathroom, and it was obvious that Angela wasn't doing too well. The only option was to clean her up and take her home before the teachers found out about it. Getting drunk was a big deal back then, and she'd be looking at suspension, maybe even expulsion, if she got caught.

"It was okay," I said, shrugging, doing my best to play it cool.Eric playfully elbowed me in the ribs, and I grunted. He outweighed me by at least thirty pounds."Did you kiss her good-night?""No."He took a long drink from his can of Budweiser as I answered. I don't know how he did it, but Eric never had trouble buying beer, which was strange, being that everyone in town knew how old he was.He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tossing me a sidelong glance."I would have thought that after she helped you clean the bathroom, you would have at least kissed her good night.""Well, I didn't.""Did you even try?""No.""Why not?""She's not that kind of girl," I said, and even though we all knew it was true, it still sounded like I was defending her.Eric latched on to that like a leech."I think you like her," he said."You're full of crap," I answered, and he slapped my back, hard enough to force the breath right out of me. Hanging out with Eric usually meant that I'd have a few bruises the following day."Yeah, I might be full of crap," he said, winking at me, "but you're the one who's smitten with Jamie Sullivan."I knew we were treading on dangerous ground."I was just using her to impress Margaret," I said. "And with all the love notes she's been sending me lately, I reckon it must have worked."Eric laughed aloud, slapping me on the back again."You and Margaret-now that's funny. . . ."I knew I'd just dodged a major bullet, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the conversation spun off in a new direction. I joined in now and then, but I wasn't really listening to what they were saying. Instead I kept hearing this little voice inside me that made me wonder about what Eric had said.The thing was, Jamie was probably the best date I could have had that night, especially considering how the evening turned out. Not many dates-heck, not many people, period-would have done what she did. At the same time, her being a good date didn't mean I liked her. I hadn't talked to her at all since the dance, except when I saw her in drama class, and even then it was only a few words here and there. If I liked her at all, I told myself, I would have wanted to talk to her. If I liked her, I would have offered to walk her home. If I liked her, I would have wanted to bring her to Cecil's Diner for a basket of hushpuppies and some RC cola. But I didn't want to do any of those things. I really didn't. In my mind, I'd already served my penance.