The Last Song (13 page)

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I’m not sure I could stop you.”

He pushed his feet back and forth in the sand. “What’s with you and Blaze?”

In the silence, she stiffened slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I was just wondering why you were hanging out with her the other night.”

“Oh,” she said. Though he had no idea why, she seemed relieved. “Actually, we met when she spilled my soda on me. Right after I finished cleaning up what you did.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. As far as I can tell, dumping soda on people is the equivalent of ‘Hi, it’s nice to meet you’ in this part of the world. Frankly, I think standard greetings work better, but what do I know?” She drew a long breath. “Anyway, she seemed cool and I didn’t know anyone else, so we just… ended up hanging out for a while.”

“Did she stay here with you last night?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“What? Didn’t she want to save the turtles? Or at least keep you company?”

“I didn’t tell her about this.”

He could tell she didn’t want to say more, so he let it drop. Instead, he motioned to the beach.

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Do you mean a romantic walk, or just a walk?”

“I’m going to say… just a walk.”

“Good choice.” She clapped her hands together. “But just so you know, I don’t want to go too far, being that the aquarium volunteers weren’t concerned about the raccoon and the eggs are still exposed.”

“They were definitely concerned. I have it on good authority that an aquarium volunteer is helping to guard the nest right now.”

“Yes,” she said. “But the real question is why?”

They walked the beach in the direction of the pier, passing a dozen oceanfront mansions, each with massive decks and staircases that led down to the beach. A few houses down, one of the neighbors was hosting a small gathering; all the lights on the third floor were on, and three or four couples leaned against the railing, watching the moonlit waves.

They didn’t talk much, but for some reason, the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. Ronnie kept just enough distance so they wouldn’t accidentally brush against each other, sometimes studying the sand and at other times staring ahead. There were moments when he thought he saw a fleeting smile cross her features, as though she remembered a humorous story she hadn’t yet shared with him. Every now and then, she stopped and bent over to retrieve seashells that were half-buried in the sand, and he noted her concentration as she examined them in the moonlight before tossing most of them aside. The others she slipped into her pocket.

There was so much he didn’t know about her—in many ways she remained a cipher to him. In that, she was the complete opposite of Ashley. Ashley was nothing if not safe and predictable; he knew thoroughly what he was getting, even if it wasn’t what he really wanted. But Ronnie was different, no doubt about it, and when she offered him an unguarded and unexpected smile, he had the sense she was intuiting his thoughts. The realization warmed him, and when they finally turned around and made their way back toward their spot near the turtle nest, there was an instant when he imagined himself walking beside her on the beach each and every night into a distant future.

*     *     *

When they reached the house, Ronnie went inside to talk to her dad while Will unpacked his truck. He set up his bedroll and supplies on the side of the turtle nest, wishing Ronnie could have stayed near the nest with him. But she’d already told him there wasn’t a chance that her dad would agree. At the very least, though, he was glad she’d be able to sleep in her own bed tonight.

Getting comfortable, he lay down, thinking that today had been a start, if nothing else. Anything might happen from here. But when she turned, smiling as she waved a final good night from the porch, he felt something leap inside at the notion that she just might imagine it was the beginning of something, too.

“Who’s the stiff?”

“Nobody. Just a friend. Go away.”

As the words drifted through the hazy corridors of his mind, Will struggled to remember where he was. Squinting into the sun, he realized he was face-to-face with a little boy.

“Oh, hey,” Will mumbled.

The boy rubbed his nose. “What are you doing here?”

“Waking up.”

“I can see that. But what were you doing here last night?”

Will smiled. The kid acted as serious as a coroner, which seemed comical given his age and stature. “Sleeping.”

“Uh-huh.”

Will pushed back, giving himself room to sit up, and noticed Ronnie standing off to the side. She was dressed in a black T-shirt and torn jeans and wore the same amused expression he’d seen the night before.

“I’m Will,” he offered. “And you are?”

The boy nodded toward Ronnie. “I’m her roommate,” he said. “We go back a long way.”

Will scratched his head, smiling. “I see.”

Ronnie took a step forward, her hair still damp from her shower. “This is my nosy brother, Jonah.”

“Oh?” Will asked.

“Yeah,” Jonah answered. “Except for the nosy part.”

“Good to know.”

Jonah continued to stare at him. “I think I know you.”

“I don’t think so. I feel like I would have remembered meeting you.”

“No, I do remember,” Jonah said, beginning to smile. “You were the guy who told the police officer that Ronnie went to Bower’s Point!”

The memory of that night came surging back, and Will turned to Ronnie, watching with dread as her expression changed from curiosity to puzzlement and finally to understanding.

Oh, no.

Jonah was still going on. “Yeah, Officer Pete brought her home, and she and Dad had this big fight the next morning…”

Will saw Ronnie’s mouth tighten. Muttering, she turned and stormed into the house.

Jonah stopped in midsentence, wondering what he’d said.

“Thanks for that,” Will growled, then hopped to his feet and sprinted after Ronnie.

“Ronnie! Wait! C’mon. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for you to get into trouble.”

He reached for her arm as he caught up with her. When his fingers grazed her T-shirt, she whirled to face him.

“Go away!”

“Just listen to me for a second—”

“You and I have nothing in common!” she snapped. “Get it?”

“Then what was last night about?”

Her cheeks were red. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Your act doesn’t work on me,” he said. For some reason, his words kept her quiet long enough to go on. “You stopped the fight, even though everyone else wanted blood. You were the only one who even noticed the kid who started to cry, and I saw the way you smiled when he went off with his mom. You read Tolstoy in your spare time. And you like sea turtles.”

Though she raised her chin defiantly, he sensed he’d struck a nerve. “So what?”

“So I want to show you something today.” He paused, relieved that she didn’t immediately say no. But she hadn’t said yes, either, and before she could decide one way or the other, he took a small step forward.

“You’ll like it,” he said. “I promise.”

Will pulled into the empty parking lot of the aquarium and followed a small service drive that led around back. Ronnie sat beside him in the truck but hadn’t said much on the drive over. As he walked her toward the employees entrance, he could tell that even though she’d agreed to come, she hadn’t yet made up her mind about whether or not to still be angry with him.

He held open the door for her, feeling the cool draft as it mingled with the hot, humid air outside. He led her down a long corridor, then pushed through yet another door that led into the aquarium itself.

There were a handful of people working in their offices, although the aquarium wouldn’t open to the public for another hour. Will loved being here before it opened; the dim lights from the tanks and absence of sound made it feel like a secret hideaway. Often, he would find himself mesmerized by the poisoned spines of the lionfish as they moved in saltwater loops, skimming the glass. He wondered whether they realized their habitat had shrunk in size, and if they even knew he was there.

Ronnie walked next to him, observing the activity. She seemed content to stay quiet as they passed a massive ocean tank, home to a smaller replica of a sunken German submarine from World War II. When they reached the tank of slowly undulating jellyfish that glowed fluorescent beneath a black light, she stopped and touched the glass in wonder.

“
Aurelia aurita
,” Will said. “Also known as moon jellies.”

She nodded, returning her gaze to the tank, transfixed by their slow-motion movement. “They’re so delicate,” she said. “It’s hard to believe the stings can be so painful.”

Her hair had dried curlier than it had the day before, making her appear a bit like an unruly tomboy.

“Tell me about it. I think I’ve been stung at least once a year since I was a kid.”

“You should try to avoid them.”

“I do. But they find me anyway. I think they’re attracted to me.”

She smiled faintly, then turned and faced him directly. “What are we doing here?”

“I told you I wanted to show you something.”

“I’ve seen fish before. And I’ve been to an aquarium, too.”

“I know. But this is special.”

“Because no one else is here?”

“No,” he answered. “Because you’re going to see something that the public doesn’t see.”

“What? You and me alone near a fish tank?”

He grinned. “Even better. C’mon.”

In a situation like this, he normally wouldn’t hesitate to take a girl’s hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to try it with her. He motioned with his thumb toward a corner hallway, tucked neatly away so as to be practically unnoticeable. At the end of the hallway, he paused before the door.

“Don’t tell me they gave you an office,” she teased.

“No,” he said, pushing open the door. “I don’t work here, remember? I’m just a volunteer.”

They entered a large cinder-block room crisscrossed by air ducts and dozens of exposed pipes. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, but the sound was drowned out by the enormous water filters that lined the far wall. A giant open tank, filled nearly to the top with ocean water, lent the air a tang of salt and brine.

Will led the way onto a steel-grated platform that circled the tank and climbed down the industrial steps. On the far side of the tank was a medium-size Plexiglas window. The lights above provided enough illumination to make out the slowly moving creature.

He watched Ronnie as she eventually recognized what she was seeing.

“Is that a sea turtle?”

“A loggerhead, actually. Her name is Mabel.”

As the turtle glided past the window, the scars on her shell became apparent, as did the missing flipper.

“What happened to her?”

“She was hit by a boat propeller. She was rescued about a month ago, barely alive. A specialist from NC State had to amputate part of her front flipper.”

In the tank, unable to stay completely upright, Mabel swam at a slight angle and bumped into the far wall, then began her circuit again.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“It’s a miracle she’s lived this long, and I hope she’ll make it. She’s stronger now than she was. But no one knows if she can survive in the ocean.”

Ronnie watched as Mabel bumped into the wall again before correcting her course, then turned to face Will.

“Why did you want me to see this?”

“Because I thought you’d like her as much as I do,” he said. “Scars and all.”

Ronnie seemed to wonder at his words, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned to watch Mabel in silence for a while. As Mabel vanished into the back shadows, he heard Ronnie sigh.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she asked.

“It’s my day off.”

“Working for Dad has its perks, huh?”

“You might say that.”

She tapped the glass, trying to get Mabel’s attention. After a moment, she turned to him again. “So what do you usually do on your day off?”

“Just a good old southern boy, huh? Going fishing, watching the clouds. I feel like you should be wearing a NASCAR hat and chewing tobacco.”

They’d spent another half hour at the aquarium—Ronnie was especially delighted by the otters—before Will had taken her to a bait shop to pick up some frozen shrimp. From there, he’d brought her to an undeveloped lot on the intracoastal side of the island, where he’d pulled out the fishing gear he kept stored in the truck box. Then he’d led her to the edge of a small dock, and they sat, their feet dangling just a couple of feet above the water.

“Don’t be a snob,” he chided her. “Believe it or not, the South is great. We have indoor plumbing and everything. And on weekends, we get to go mudding.”

“Mudding?”

“We drive our trucks in the mud.”

Ronnie faked a dreamy expression. “That sounds so… intellectual.”

He nudged her playfully. “Yeah, tease me if you want. But it’s fun. Muddy water spraying all over the windshield, getting stuck, spinning your wheels to soak the guy behind you.”

“Believe me, I’m giddy just thinking about it,” Ronnie said, deadpan.

“I take it that’s not how you spend your weekends in the city.”

She shook her head. “Uh… no. Not exactly.”

“I’ll bet you never even leave the city, do you?”

“Of course I leave the city. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You know what I mean. On the weekends.”

“Why would I want to leave the city?”

“Maybe just to be alone now and then?”

“I can be alone in my room.”

“Where would you go if you wanted to sit beneath a tree and read?”

“I’d go to Central Park,” she countered easily. “There’s this great knoll behind Tavern on the Green. And I can buy a latte just around the corner.”

He shook his head in mock lament. “You’re such a city girl. Do you even know how to fish?”

“It’s not that hard. Bait the hook, cast the line, then hold the pole. How am I doing so far?”

“Okay, if that’s all there was to it. But you have to know where to cast and be good enough to cast exactly where you want. You have to know what bait and lures to use, and those depend on everything from the type of fish to the weather to the clarity of the water. And then, of course, you have to set the hook. If you’re too early or too late, you’ll miss the fish.”