Amends: A Love Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

of bed and go to my
computer. I am obsessively curious about the woman I killed.
    Killed. The word echoes in my brain. I killed someone. It feels
surreal. My mother is dead, and I killed someone.
    I open my browser, and it
takes me all of two seconds to find my victim. The accident is
already all over the Internet. Local woman
killed in late night crash , the headlines
read. Her name is—was—Laura Dormer. She was a beloved pediatric
nurse at Jasper Heights Community Hospital. There's a picture of
her dressed up as a witch, handing out Halloween treats to kids on
the cancer ward. She has a strong jaw and ice blue eyes: a natural
protector. She's a rougher, more robust version of my own
mother.
    She is survived by her husband Craig Dormer,
an auto detail technician, and a daughter about my age. The
daughter's name is Amity. She's been accepted to Adams College,
which is, eerily enough, my first choice. There's a picture of her
holding a giant beet from her mom's garden. Her expression is oddly
tentative, as if she's afraid to fully commit herself to a smile.
She has long, storybook hair and aspirations to become a pediatric
surgeon. She's a wounded princess who's lost her mother—just like
me. And it's all my fault. I want to throw myself at her feet and
beg her forgiveness.
    I take a deep, shuddering
breath and quickly scan the rest of the article. It mentions the
heroism of the other driver—me—giving CPR to Laura at the scene. It
also includes a self-serving quote from Ember: I really have no idea what happened. She just came out of
nowhere. I think she must have blown through the stop sign or
something. I suppose I can't blame her for
trying to deflect the blame. She's trying to protect herself—and
maybe me. I still don't know what I'm going to tell the police when
they ask for my statement.
    Someone's knocking on my door. "Come in."
    It's Katya, my father's assistant. She's a
washed up model at just twenty-five years old. Her hair is the
color of honey, and she has broad Slavic cheekbones. She's
heartbreakingly beautiful. Every once in a while I see her swimming
topless in our forty-foot pool. On every other breath, a small,
evenly tanned breast pops out of the water. I'm pretty sure she's
sleeping with my father. I avoid her as much as possible.
    She looks at me with tired eyes. "Your father
asked me to tell you that he's flying back from New York. He'll be
here this morning. He says not to talk to anyone until he gets
here."
    No duh. When the cops looked at my driver's
license and realized I was Josiah Conroy's son, they called him
immediately. Dad basically owns Jasper Heights and everyone in it.
Then they gave me what was probably the most gentle and courteous
roadside sobriety test ever given. Once they established my
Breathalyzer was clean, they asked me to drop by the station
sometime over the next couple of days. At my convenience.
    Katya's still standing in the doorway. I
realize I've been rude.
    "Thanks," I say. But she still doesn't leave.
Instead, she takes a step into my room.
    "Your father also said I should do anything I
can to make you comfortable. I know you've had a very terrible day.
You're a good-looking boy. Let me help you feel better."
    She slowly unbuttons her shirt, and I stare,
transfixed. Then I remember Dad's hands exploring Ember's body and
all the pretty young things who show up here with red, swollen
eyes. I force myself to look away.
    "It's OK, Katya. I'll be fine." Of course,
it's a lie, but one she's happy to accept. She shrugs and
disappears out my door, closing it behind her. A few minutes later,
I hear another knock.
    "Katya, I said I'm fine, OK?"
    I turn around, and it's not Katya. Not at
all. It's Ember. She drops her coat onto the floor and comes to
me.

    /////////////////////////

    Ember is sobbing and
shaking. Her face is chalky. Her eyes and nose are red. I want to
rage at her— what the fuck were you thinking
when you grabbed the steering wheel? Instead I take her in my