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.”
23
Morgan 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.