The Last Song (41 page)

She squinted up at him. “But I haven’t always made good decisions.”

Pastor Harris smiled. “All that shows is that you’re human. He never expected perfection. But I do know how proud he is of
the young woman you’ve become. He told me that just a few days ago, and you should have seen him when he spoke about you.
He was so… proud, so happy, and that night, when I prayed, I thanked God for that. Because your dad really struggled when
he moved back here. I wasn’t sure he’d ever be happy again. And yet, despite everything that’s happened, I now know that he
is.”

She felt the lump in her throat. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do.”

“But I’m scared,” she said. “And my dad…”

“I know,” he said. “And though both of you have made him very happy, I know your dad is scared, too.”

That night, Ronnie stood on the back porch. The waves were as steady and rhythmic as always, and the stars were flickering
with pinprick intensity, but everything else about the world around her seemed different. Will was talking with Jonah in the
bedroom, so there were three people here as usual, but somehow the house felt emptier.

Pastor Harris was still with her dad. Pastor Harris told her he planned to stay through the night, so she could bring Jonah
back home, but she felt guilty nonetheless for leaving. Tomorrow, her dad had tests scheduled during the day and another meeting
with his doctor. In between those things, he would be tired and she knew he’d need his rest. But she wanted to be there, she
wanted to be at his side, even if he was asleep, because she knew the time would come when she couldn’t.

Behind her, she heard the back door squeak open; Will closed it gently behind him. As he approached her, she continued to
gaze out over the sandy beach.

“Jonah’s finally asleep,” he said. “But I don’t think he really understands what’s happening. He told me he’s pretty sure
the doctor will make his dad all better, and he kept asking when his dad could come home.”

She remembered his cries from the hospital room, and all she could do was nod. Will slipped his arms around her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“How do you think I’m doing? I just found out my father is dying and that he probably won’t live to see Christmas.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I’m sorry. I know how hard this is for you.” She could feel his hands on her waist. “I’ll stay
tonight so if anything happens and you have to go, someone can be with Jonah. I can stay around here as long as you need me
to. I know I’m supposed to be leaving in a couple of days, but I can call the dean’s office and explain what’s happening.
Classes don’t start until next week.”

“You can’t fix this,” she said. Though she could hear the sharpness in her tone, she couldn’t help it. “Don’t you get that?”

“I’m not trying to fix it—”

“Yes, you are! But you can’t!” Her heart suddenly felt as if it were going to explode. “And you can’t understand what I’m
going through, either!”

“I’ve lost someone, too,” he reminded her.

“It’s not the same!” She squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to stifle her tears. “I was so mean to him. I quit the piano!
I blamed him for everything, and I didn’t say more than a few words to him for three years! Three years! And I can’t get those
years back. But maybe if I hadn’t been so angry, he might not have gotten sick. Maybe I caused that extra… stress that did
all this. Maybe it was me!” She pulled away from Will.

“It’s not your fault.”

Will tried to take her back into his arms, but it was the last thing she wanted, and she tried to push him away. When he didn’t
let go, she pounded his chest.

“Let me go! I can handle this alone!”

But still he held her, and when she realized he wasn’t going to let go, she finally collapsed into him. And for a long time,
she let him hold her as she cried.

Ronnie lay in her darkened bedroom, listening to the sound of Jonah breathing. Will was sleeping on the couch in the living
room. She knew she should try to rest, but she kept waiting for the phone to ring. She imagined the worst: that her father
had begun to cough again, that he’d lost more blood, that there was nothing anyone could do…

Beside her, on the bedstand, was her father’s Bible. Earlier, she’d glanced through it, unsure what she would find. Had he
underlined passages or folded down pages? As she flipped through the book, she’d found few traces of her father, other than
a well-worn feel to the pages that suggested a deep familiarity with nearly every chapter. She wished that he’d done something
to make it his own, something that left behind clues about himself, but there was nothing even to suggest that he’d found
one passage more interesting than another.

She’d never read the Bible, but somehow she knew that she would read this one, searching for whatever meaning her father had
found within the pages. She wondered if the Bible had been given to him by Pastor Harris or whether he’d bought it on his
own, and how long it had been in his possession. There was so much she didn’t know about him, and she wondered now why she’d
never bothered to ask him.

But she would, she decided. If she soon would have only memories, then she wanted as many as she could collect, and as she
found herself praying for the first time in years, she begged God for enough time to make it possible.

W
ill

W
ill didn’t sleep well. Throughout the night, he’d heard Ronnie tossing and turning and pacing in her room. He recognized the
shock she was feeling; he remembered the numbness and guilt, the disbelief and anger, after Mikey had died. The years had
dulled the emotional intensity, but he could remember the conflicting desire for company and the need to be left alone.

He felt sadness for Ronnie and also for Jonah, who was too young to grasp it at all. And even for himself. During the summer,
Steve had been incredibly kind to him, as they’d spent a lot more time at Ronnie’s than they had at his house. He liked the
quiet way he cooked in the kitchen and the easy familiarity he shared with Jonah. He’d often seen the two of them out on the
beach, flying kites or playing catch near the waves, or working on the stained-glass window in quiet concentration. While
most fathers liked to see themselves as the kind of men who made time for their kids, it seemed to Will that Steve was the
real thing. In the short time he’d known him, he’d never once seen Steve get angry, never heard him raise his voice. He supposed
that it could have had something to do with the fact that he knew he was dying, but Will didn’t think that explained everything.
Ronnie’s dad was just… a good man at peace with himself and others; he loved his kids and somehow trusted that they were usually
smart enough to make the right decisions.

As he lay on the couch, he reflected that he wanted to be the same kind of father someday. Though he loved his dad, he hadn’t
always been the easygoing man Ronnie had met. There were long stretches of Will’s life during which he hardly remembered seeing
his father as he worked to grow his business. Add in his mom’s occasional volatility and the death of Mikey, which sent the
entire family into depression for a couple of years, and there had been times when he wished he’d been born into a different
family. He knew he was lucky, and it was true that things had been a lot better lately. But growing up hadn’t been all cupcakes
and parties, and he could remember wishing for a different life.

But Steve was an altogether different kind of parent.

Ronnie had told him that he would sit with her for hours as she learned to play the piano, but in all the time he’d been at
the house, he’d never heard Steve talk about it. He hadn’t even mentioned it in passing, and though at first Will thought
it odd, he began to see it as a powerful indication of his love for Ronnie. She didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t,
even though it had been a major part of their life together. He’d even boarded up the alcove because she didn’t want to be
reminded of it.

What kind of person would do that?

Only Steve, a man he’d grown to admire, a man he’d learned from, and the kind of man he himself hoped to be as he grew older.

He was awakened by the morning sunlight streaming through the living room windows, and he stretched before rising to his feet.
Peeking down the hall, he saw that the door to Ronnie’s room was open, and he knew that she was already awake. He found her
on the porch in the same spot as the night before. She didn’t turn around.

“Good morning,” he said.

Her shoulders sagged as she turned toward him. “Good morning,” she said, offering the slightest of smiles. She opened her
arms, and he wrapped himself around her, grateful for the embrace.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she said.

“There’s no reason to be sorry.” He nuzzled her hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Mmmm,” she said. “But thanks anyway.”

“I didn’t hear you get up.”

“I’ve been up for a while.” She sighed. “I called the hospital and talked to my dad. Though he didn’t say as much, I could
tell he’s still in a lot of pain. He thinks they might keep him for a couple of days after his tests are done.”

In almost any other situation, he would have assured her that everything would be fine, that it would all work out. But in
this case, they both knew the words would mean nothing. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

“Were you able to get any sleep? I heard you wandering around last night.”

“Not really. I finally crawled in bed with Jonah, but my brain just wouldn’t shut off. But not just because of what’s going
on with my dad.” She paused. “It was because of you, too. You’re leaving in a couple of days.”

“I already told you I could postpone it. If you need me to stay, I will…”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to. You’re about to start a whole new chapter of your life, and I can’t take that away
from you.”

“But I don’t have to go now. Classes don’t start right away—”

“I don’t want you to,” she said again. Her voice was soft but implacable. “You’re going off to college, and it’s not your
problem. I know that might sound harsh, but it isn’t. He’s my dad, not yours, and that will never change. And I don’t want
to think about what you might be giving up, in addition to everything else that’s going on in my life. Can you understand
that?”

Her words had the ring of truth to them, even if he wished she were wrong. After a moment, he untied his macramé bracelet
and held it out to her.

“I want you to have this,” he whispered, and by her expression, he could tell that she understood how much her acceptance
meant to him.

She flashed a small smile as she closed her hand around it. He thought she was about to say something when both of them heard
the workshop door suddenly bang open. For an instant, Will thought someone had broken in. Then he saw Jonah clumsily dragging
a broken chair outside. With enormous effort, he lifted it up and tossed it over the dune near the workshop. Even from this
distance, Will could see the fury in Jonah’s expression.

Ronnie was already moving off the porch.

“Jonah!” she screamed, breaking into a run.

Will leapt after her, almost bumping into her as she reached the workshop door. Looking past her, he saw Jonah trying to push
a heavy crate across the floor. He was struggling mightily, oblivious to their sudden appearance.

“What are you doing?” Ronnie cried. “When did you come out here?”

Jonah continued to push at the crate, grunting with the effort.

“Jonah!” Ronnie shouted.

Her cry broke through his tunnel-like focus, and he turned toward Will and his sister, surprised by their presence. “I can’t
reach it!” he cried, angry and on the verge of tears. “I’m not tall enough!”

“Can’t reach what?” she asked before taking a sudden step forward. “You’re bleeding!” she said, panic rising in her voice.

Will noticed the torn jeans and blood on Jonah’s leg as Ronnie rushed toward him. Driven by his own demons, Jonah pushed frantically
at the crate, and the corner of the box smashed into one of the shelves. The half-squirrel/half-fish creature toppled off,
landing on Jonah just as Ronnie reached him.

His face was tight and red. “Go away! I can do this by myself! I don’t need you!” he screamed.

He tried to move the crate again, but it was pinned by the shelf, locked in place. Ronnie tried to help him, but Jonah shoved
her away. By now, Will could see the tears on his cheeks.

“I told you to go away!” he shouted at her. “Dad wants me to finish the window! Me! Not you! That’s what we were doing all
summer!” His words came out in broken gasps, angry and terrified. “This was what we did! All you ever cared about were the
turtles! But I was with him every day!”

As he shouted through his tears, his voice cracked.

“And now I can’t reach the middle part of the window! I’m too short! But I have to finish it, because maybe if I finish it,
then Dad will get better. He has to get better, so I tried to use the chair to reach the middle of the window, but it broke
and I fell into the glass and I got mad and then I wanted to use the crate, but it’s too heavy—”