“I didn’t say much of anything,” he said. “I didn’t even answer the question. You read into it what you wanted to.”
“So I was wrong?”
Instead of answering, he reached for his knife. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that if you don’t want to know the answer to a question, don’t ask?”
Despite the fact that he’d deflected her question back at her—he’d always been able to do that—she couldn’t help herself. “Well, even so, it’s not my fault. If you want to ruin your life, go ahead. Who am I to stop you?”
Surprising her, Dawson laughed. “It’s good to know you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Trust me. I’ve changed.”
“Not much. You’re still willing to tell me exactly how you think, no matter what it is. Even if you’re of the opinion that I’m ruining my life.”
“You obviously need someone to tell you.”
“Then how about I try to ease your mind, okay? I haven’t changed, either. I’m alone now because I’ve always been alone. Before you knew me, I did everything I could to keep my crazy family at a distance. When I came here, Tuck sometimes went days without talking to me, and after you left, I went up to Caledonia Correctional. When I got out, no one in the town wanted me around, so I left. I eventually ended up working for months of the year on a rig out in the ocean, not exactly a place conducive to relationships—I see that firsthand. Yes, there are some couples who can survive that kind of regular separation, but there’s a fair share of broken hearts, too. It just seems easier this way, and besides, I’m used to it.”
She evaluated his answer. “Do you want to know whether I think you’re telling the entire truth?”
“Not really.”
Despite herself, she laughed. “Can I ask you another question, then? You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not talk about it.”
“You can ask whatever you’d like,” he said, taking a bite of steak.
“What happened on the night of the accident? I heard bits and pieces from my mom, but I never got the whole story and I didn’t know what to believe.”
Dawson chewed in silence before answering. “There’s not much to tell,” he finally said. “Tuck had ordered a set of tires for an Impala he was restoring, but for whatever reason, they ended up being delivered to a shop over in New Bern. He asked if I’d go pick them up, and I did. It had rained a little, and by the time I was getting back to town it was already dark.”
He paused, trying yet again to make sense of the impossible. “There was an oncoming car and the guy was speeding. Or woman. I never did find out. Anyway, whoever it was crossed over the centerline just as I was closing in, and I jerked the wheel to make room. Next thing I knew, he was flying past me and the truck was halfway off the road. I saw Dr. Bonner, but…” The images were still clear, the images were always clear, an unchanging nightmare. “It was like the whole thing was happening in slow motion. I slammed on the brakes and kept turning the wheel, but the roads and grass were slick, and then…”
He trailed off. In the silence, Amanda touched his arm. “It was an accident,” she whispered.
Dawson said nothing, but when he shuffled his feet, Amanda asked the obvious. “Why did you go to jail? If you weren’t drinking or speeding?”
When he shrugged, she realized she already knew the answer. It was as clear as the spelling of his last name.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words sounding inadequate.
“I know. But don’t feel sorry for me,” he said. “Feel sorry for Dr. Bonner’s family. Because of me, he never came home. Because of me, his kids grew up without a father. Because of me, his wife still lives alone.”
“You don’t know that,” she countered. “Maybe she remarried.”
“She didn’t,” he said. Before she could ask how he knew this, he started in on his plate again. “But what about you?” Dawson asked abruptly, as if stowing their previous conversation away and slamming the lid shut, making her regret she’d brought it up. “Catch me up on what you’ve been doing since we last saw each other.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
He reached for the bottle of wine and poured more for both of them. “How about you start with college?”
Amanda capitulated, filling him in on her life, initially in broad strokes. Dawson listened intently, asking questions as she talked, probing for more detail. The words began to come easily. She told him about her roommates, about her classes and the professors who had most inspired her. She admitted that the year she spent teaching was nothing like she expected, if only because she could barely grasp the idea that she was no longer a student. She talked about meeting Frank, though saying his name made her feel strangely guilty, and she didn’t mention him again. She told Dawson a little about her friends and some of the places she’d traveled over the years, but mainly she talked about her kids, describing their personalities and challenges and trying not to boast too much about their accomplishments.