The Wedding

by Nicholas Sparks

  I nodded, conceding her point. Despite the years I've spent working on my swing, I'm far from a scratch golfer. I glanced at the clock.

  "Do you want to head out to get a bite to eat?"

  "What? No cooking tonight?"

  "Not unless you want leftovers. I didn't have a chance to run to the store."

  "I was kidding," she said with a wave. "I don't expect you to do all the cooking now, though I have to admit, it's been nice." She smiled. "Sure, I'd love to go. I'm getting kind of hungry. Just give me a minute to get ready."

  "You look fine," I protested.

  "It'll only take a minute," she called out as she headed for the stairs.

  It would not take a minute. I knew Jane, and over the years, I'd come to understand that these "minutes" it took to get ready actually averaged closer to twenty. I'd learned to occupy my time while waiting with activities that I enjoyed but required little thought. For instance, I might head to my office and straighten the items on my desk or adjust the amplifier on the stereo after the children had used it.

  I discovered that these innocuous things made time slip by unnoticed. Often, I would finish whatever it was I was doing, only to find my wife standing behind me with her hands on her hips.

  "Are you ready?" I might ask.

  "I've been ready," she would say in a huff. "I've been waiting ten minutes for you to finish whatever it is you're doing."

  "Oh," I'd reply, "sorry. Let me make sure I have the keys and we can go."

  "Don't tell me you lost them."

  "No, of course not," I'd say, patting my pockets, puzzled that I couldn't find them. Then, looking around, I'd quickly add: "I'm sure they're close. I just had them a minute ago."

  At that, my wife would roll her eyes.

  Tonight, however, I grabbed Time magazine and headed for the couch. I finished a few articles as I heard Jane padding around upstairs and set the magazine aside. I was wondering what she was in the mood to eat when the phone rang.

  Listening to the shaky voice on the other end of the receiver, I felt my sense of anticipation evaporate, replaced by a deep sense of dread. Jane came downstairs as I was hanging up.

  Seeing my expression, she froze.

  "What happened?" she asked. "Who was it?"

  "That was Kate," I said quietly. "She's going to the hospital now."

  Jane's hand flew to her mouth.

  "It's Noah," I said.

  Chapter Nine

  Tears brimmed in Jane's eyes as we drove to the hospital. Though I'm usually a cautious driver, I changed lanes frequently and bore down on the accelerator when the lights turned yellow, feeling the weight of every passing minute.

  When we arrived, the scene in the emergency room was reminiscent of this spring, after Noah had his stroke, as if nothing had changed in the previous four months. The air smelled of ammonia and antiseptic, the fluorescent lights cast a flat glare over the crowded waiting room.

  Metal-and-vinyl chairs lined the walls and marched in rows through the middle of the room. Most of the seats were occupied by groups of twos or threes, speaking in hushed tones, and a line of people waiting to fill out forms snaked past the intake counter.

  Jane's family was clustered near the door. Kate stood pale and nervous beside Grayson, her husband, who looked every bit the cotton farmer he was in his overalls and dusty boots. His angular face was weathered with creases. David, Jane's youngest brother, stood beside them with his arm around his wife, Lynn.

  At the sight of us, Kate ran forward, tears already beginning to spill down her cheeks. She and Jane immediately fell into each other's arms.

  "What happened?" Jane asked, her face taut with fear. "How is he?"

  Kate's voice cracked. "He fell near the pond. No one saw it happen, but he was barely conscious when the nurse found him. She said he hit his head. The ambulance brought him in about twenty minutes ago, and Dr. Barnwell is with him now," Kate said. "That's all we know."

  Jane seemed to sag in her sister's arms. Neither David nor Grayson could look at them; both of their mouths were set into straight lines. Lynn stood with her arms crossed, rocking back and forth on her heels.

  "When can we see him?"

  Kate shook her head. "I don't know. The nurses out here keep telling us to wait for Dr. Barnwell or one of the other nurses. I guess they'll let us know."

  "But he's going to be okay, right?"

  When Kate didn't answer immediately, Jane inhaled sharply.

  "He's going to be okay," Jane said.

  "Oh, Jane . . ." Kate squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know. Nobody knows anything."

  For a moment, they simply clung to each other.

  "Where's Jeff?" Jane asked, referring to their missing sibling. "He's coming, right?"

  "I finally got hold of him," David informed her. "He's stopping by the house to pick up Debbie, then he's coming straight here."

  David joined his sisters, the three of them huddling together as if trying to pool the strength they knew they might need.

  A moment later, Jeff and Debbie arrived. Jeff joined his siblings and was quickly updated on the situation, his drawn face expressing the same dread reflected on their faces.

  As the minutes dragged by, we separated into two groups: the progeny of Noah and Allie and their spouses. Though I love Noah and Jane was my wife, I've come to learn that there are times when Jane needed her siblings more than me. Jane would need me later, but now was not the time.

  Lynn, Grayson, Debbie, and I had been through this before--in the spring when Noah had his stroke, and when Allie died, and when Noah had a heart attack six years ago. While their group had its rituals, including hugs and prayer circles and anxious questions repeated over and over, ours was more stoic. Grayson, like me, has always been quiet. When nervous, he pushes his hands into his pocket and jingles his keys. Lynn and Debbie--while they accepted that David and Jeff needed their sisters at times like these--seemed lost when crises arose, unsure what to do other than stay out of the way and keep their voices down. I, on the other hand, always found myself searching for practical ways to help--an effective means of keeping my emotions in check.

  Noticing that the line at the intake desk had cleared, I headed over. A moment later, the nurse looked up from behind a tall stack of forms. Her expression was frazzled.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Yes," I said. "I was wondering if you had any more information about Noah Calhoun. He was brought in about half an hour ago."

  "Has the doctor come out to see you yet?"

  "No. But the whole family is here now, and they're pretty upset."

  I nodded toward them and saw the nurse's gaze follow mine.

  "I'm sure the doctor or one of the nurses will be out shortly."

  "I know. But is there any way you could find out when we might be able to see our father? Or whether he's going to be okay?"

  For a moment, I wasn't sure she would help me, but when her gaze turned toward the family again, I heard her exhale.

  "Just give me a few minutes to process some of these forms. Then I'll see what I can find out, okay?"

  Grayson joined me at the desk, hands in his pockets. "You holdin' up okay?"

  "Trying," I said.

  He nodded again, keys jingling.

  "I'm going to sit," he said after a few seconds. "Who knows how long we're going to be here."

  We both took a seat in the chairs behind the siblings. A few minutes later, Anna and Keith arrived. Anna joined the huddle, while Keith sat next to me. Dressed in black, Anna already looked as though she'd come from a funeral.

  Waiting is always the worst part of a crisis like this, and I've come to despise hospitals for this very reason. Nothing is happening, yet the mind whirls with ever darkening images, subconsciously preparing for the worst. In the tense silence, I could hear my own heart beating, and my throat was strangely dry.

  I noticed that the intake nurse was no longer at her desk, and I hoped she'd gone to check on Noah. From the corne
r of my eye, I saw Jane approaching. Standing from my seat, I raised my arm, letting her lean into me.

  "I hate this," she said.

  "I know you do. I hate it, too."

  Behind us, a young couple with three crying children entered the emergency room. We moved over to make room for them to pass, and when they reached the desk, I saw the nurse emerge from the back. She held up a finger signaling the couple to wait and headed toward us.

  "He's conscious now," she announced, "but he's still a little woozy. His vital signs are good. We'll probably be moving him to a room in an hour or so."

  "So he's going to be okay?"

  "They're not planning to move him to intensive care, if that's what you're asking," she hedged. "He'll probably have to stay in the hospital for a few days of observation."

  There was a collective murmur of relief at her words.

  "Can we see him now?" Jane pressed.

  "We can't have all of you back there at once. There's not enough room for everyone, and the doctor thinks it would be best if you let him rest a bit. The doctor said that one of you could go back there now, as long as you don't visit too long."

  It seemed obvious that either Kate or Jane would go, but before any of us could speak, the nurse continued.

  "Which one of you is Wilson Lewis?" she asked.

  "I am," I said.

  "Why don't you come with me? They're getting ready to hook up an IV, and you should probably see him before he starts getting sleepy."

  I felt my family's eyes drift to me. I thought I knew why he wanted to see me, but I held up my hands to ward off the possibility.

  "I know I'm the one who talked to you, but maybe Jane or Kate should go," I suggested. "They're his daughters. Or maybe David or Jeff."

  The nurse shook her head.

  "He asked to see you. He made it very clear that you should be the one to see him first."

  Though Jane smiled briefly, I saw in her smile what I felt from the others. Curiosity, of course. And surprise as well. But from Jane, what I suppose I sensed most of all was a sort of subtle betrayal, as if she knew exactly why he'd chosen me.

  Noah was lying in bed with two tubes in his arms and hooked up to a machine that broadcast the steady rhythm of his heart. His eyes were half-closed, but he rotated his head on the pillow when the nurse pulled the curtain closed behind us. I heard the nurse's steps fade away, leaving us alone.

  He looked too small for the bed, and his face was paper white. I took a seat in the chair beside him.

  "Hello, Noah."

  "Hello, Wilson," he said shakily. "Thanks for dropping by."

  "You doing okay?"

  "Could be better," he said. He offered a ghost of a smile. "Could be worse, though, too."

  I reached for his hand. "What happened?"

  "A root," he said. "Been by it a thousand times, but it jumped up and grabbed my foot this time."

  "And you hit your head?"

  "My head, my body. Everything. Landed like a potato sack, but nothing's broke, thank goodness. I'm just a little dizzy. The doctor said I should be up and around in a couple of days. I said good, because I've got a wedding this weekend I have to go to."

  "Don't worry about that. You just worry about getting healthy."

  "I'll be fine. I've still got some time left in me. "

  "You better."

  "So how are Kate and Jane? Worried sick, I'll bet."

  "We're all worried. Me included."

  "Yeah, but you don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes and practically cry every time I mumble something."

  "I do that when you're not looking."

  He smiled. "Not like they do. Odds are one of them will be with me around the clock for the next couple of days, tucking in my blankets and adjusting my bed and fluffing my pillows. They're like mother hens. I know they mean well, but all that hovering is enough to drive me crazy. The last time I was in the hospital, I don't think I was alone for more than a minute. I couldn't even go to the bathroom without one of them leading the way, and then waiting outside the door for me to finish."

  "You needed help. You couldn't walk on your own, remember?"

  "A man still needs his dignity."

  I squeezed his hand. "You'll always be the most dignified man I've ever known."

  Noah held my gaze, his expression softening. "They're going to be all over me as soon as they see me, you know. Hovering and fussing, just like always." His smiled mischievously. "I might have a little fun with 'em."

  "Go easy, Noah. They're just doing it because they love you."

  "I know. But they don't have to treat me like a child."

  "They won't."

  "They will. So when the time comes, why don't you tell them that you think I might need some rest, okay? If I say I'm getting tired, they'll just start worrying again."

  I smiled. "Will do."

  For a moment, we sat without speaking. The heart machine beeped steadily, soothing in its monotony.

  "Do you know why I asked for you to come back here instead of one of the kids?" he asked.

  Despite myself, I nodded. "You want me to go to Creekside, right? To feed the swan like I did last spring?"

  "Would you mind?"

  "Not at all. I'd be glad to help."

  He paused, his tired expression imploring me. "You know I couldn't have asked you if the others were in the room. They get upset at the very mention of it. They think it means I'm losing my mind."

  "I know."

  "But you know better, don't you, Wilson?"

  "Yes."

  "Because you believe it, too. She was there when I woke up, you know. She was standing over me, making sure that I was okay, and the nurse had to shoo her away. She stayed with me the whole time."

  I knew what he wanted me to say, but I couldn't seem to find the words he wanted to hear. Instead I smiled. "Wonder Bread," I said. "Four pieces in the morning and three pieces in the afternoon, right?"

  Noah squeezed my hand, forcing me to look at him again.

  "You do believe me, don't you, Wilson?"

  I was silent. Since Noah understood me better than anyone, I knew I couldn't hide the truth. "I don't know," I said at last.

  At my answer, I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

  An hour later, Noah was moved to a room on the second floor, where the family joined him at last.

  Jane and Kate entered the room, mumbling, "Oh, Daddy," in chorus. Lynn and Debbie followed next, while David and Jeff moved to the far side of the bed. Grayson stood at the foot of the bed, while I remained in the background.

  As Noah predicted, they hovered over him. They reached for his hand, adjusted the covers, raised the head of the bed. Scrutinized him, touched him, fawned over him, hugged and kissed him. All of them, fussing and peppering him with questions.

  Jeff spoke up first. "Are you sure you're okay? The doctor said you took a nasty fall."

  "I'm fine. I've got a bump on my head, but other than that, I'm just a little tired."

  "I was scared to death," Jane declared. "But I'm so glad you're okay."

  "Me too," David joined in.

  "You shouldn't have been out there alone if you were feeling dizzy," Kate scolded. "Next time, just wait there until someone comes to get you. They'll come and find you."

  "They did anyway," Noah said.

  Jane reached behind his head and fluffed his pillows. "You weren't out there that long, were you? I can't bear to think that no one found you right away."

  Noah shook his head. "No more than a couple of hours, I'd guess."

  "A couple of hours!" Jane and Kate exclaimed. They froze, exchanging horrified looks.

  "Maybe a little longer. Hard to tell because the clouds were blocking the sun."

  "Longer?" Jane asked. Her hands were clenched into fists.

  "And I was wet, too. I guess it must have rained on me. Or maybe the sprinklers came on."

  "You could have died out there!" Kate cried.

  "Oh, it wa
sn't so bad. A little water never hurt anyone. The worst part was the raccoon when I finally came to. With the way he kept staring at me, I thought he might be rabid. Then he came at me."

  "You were attacked by a raccoon?" Jane looked as though she might faint.

  "Not really attacked. I fought him off before he could bite me."

  "It tried to bite you!" Kate cried.

  "Oh, it's no big deal. I've fought off raccoons before."

  Kate and Jane stared at each other with shell-shocked expressions, then turned toward their siblings. Appalled silence reigned before Noah finally smiled. He pointed his finger at them and winked. "Gotcha."

  I brought a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle a chuckle. Off to the side, I could see Anna doing her best to keep a straight face.

  "Don't tease us like that!" Kate snapped, tapping the side of the bed.

  "Yeah, Daddy, that's not nice," Jane added.

  Noah's eyes creased with amusement. "Had to. You set yourselves up for it. But just to let you know, they found me within a couple of minutes. And I'm fine. I offered to drive to the hospital, but they made me take the ambulance."

  "You can't drive. You don't even have a valid license anymore."

  "It doesn't mean that I've forgotten how. And the car's still in the lot."

  Though they said nothing, I could see Jane and Kate mentally planning to remove his keys.

  Jeff cleared his throat. "I was thinking that maybe we should get you one of those wrist alarms. So if it happens again, you can get help right away."

  "Don't need one. I just tripped over a root. Wouldn't have had time to press the button on the way down. And when I came to, the nurse was already there."

  "I'll have a talk with the director," David said. "And if he doesn't take care of that root, I will. I'll chop it out myself."

  "I'll give you a hand," Grayson chimed in.

  "It not his fault I'm getting clumsy in my old age. I'll be up and around in a day or so, and good as new by the weekend."

  "Don't worry about that," Anna said. "Just get better, okay?"

  "And take it easy," Kate urged. "We're worried about you."

  "Scared to death," Jane repeated.

  Cluck, cluck, cluck. I smiled inwardly. Noah was right--they were all mother hens.

  "I'll be fine," Noah insisted. "And don't you go canceling that wedding on my account. I'm looking forward to going, and I don't want you to think a bump on my head is enough to keep me from being there."

  "That's not important right now," Jeff said.

  "He's right, Grampa," Anna said.