The Last Song (33 page)

34

S
teve

H
e wanted to surprise her. That had been his plan, anyway.

He’d played a concert in Albany; his next performance was scheduled in Richmond two days later. Normally, he never went home while on tour; it was easier to maintain a kind of rhythm as he traveled from city to city. But because he had a bit of extra time and hadn’t seen his family in two weeks, he caught a train and arrived in the city as the lunch crowd came streaming out of their office towers in search of something to eat.

It was pure coincidence that he saw her at all. Even now, the odds seemed so remote as to be impossible. It was a city of millions and he was near Penn Station, and he was walking past a restaurant that was already nearly full.

His first thought, when he saw her, was that the woman looked exactly like his wife. She was seated at a small table wedged against the wall, across from a gray-haired man who appeared to be a few years older than her. She was dressed in a black skirt and a red silk blouse and was running a finger over the rim of her wineglass. He captured all of that and did a quick double take. It actually was Kim, he realized, and she was dining with a man that he’d never seen before. Through the window, he watched as she laughed, and with a sinking certainty, he knew he’d seen that laugh before. He remembered it from years ago, back when things were better between them. When she rose from the table, he watched as the man stood and placed his hand on the small of her back. The man’s touch was tender, almost familiar, as though he’d done it hundreds of times before. She probably liked the way he touched her, Steve thought as he watched the stranger kiss his wife on the lips.

He wasn’t sure what to do, but thinking back, he couldn’t remember feeling much of anything. He knew they’d been distant with each other, he knew they’d been arguing too much, and he supposed that most men would have gone into the restaurant and confronted the two of them. Perhaps even made a scene. But he wasn’t like most men. So he shifted the small carry bag he’d packed the night before to his other hand, turned around, and headed back in the direction of Penn Station.

He caught a train two hours later and arrived in Richmond late that evening. As always, he picked up the phone to call his wife, and she answered on the second ring. He could hear the television in the background as she said hello.

“You finally made it, huh?” she asked. “I was wondering when you were going to call.”

As he sat on the bed, he pictured the stranger’s hand on the small of her back. “I just got in,” he said.

“Anything exciting happen?”

He was in a budget hotel, and the comforter was fraying slightly at the edges. There was an air conditioner beneath the window, and it rattled, making the curtains move. He could see dust coating the top of the television set.

“No,” he said. “Nothing exciting at all.”

In the hospital room, he remembered those images with a clarity that surprised him. He supposed it was because he knew Kim would be arriving soon, along with Ronnie and Jonah.

Ronnie had called him earlier to tell him that she wasn’t going back to New York. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He remembered his dad’s shrunken, emaciated figure toward the end, and he didn’t want his daughter to see him that way. But her mind was made up, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to change it. But it scared him.

Everything about this scared him.

He’d been praying regularly in the last couple of weeks. Or, at least, that’s how Pastor Harris had once described it. He didn’t clasp his hands or bow his head; he didn’t ask to be healed. He did, however, share with God the concerns he had regarding his children.

He supposed he wasn’t much different from most parents in his worries for them. They were still young, they both had long lives ahead of them, and he wondered what would become of them. Nothing fancy: He would ask God whether He thought they would be happy, or continue to live in New York, or whether they would ever get married and have children. The basics, nothing more, but it was then, at that moment, that he finally understood what Pastor Harris had meant when he said he walked and talked with God.

Unlike Pastor Harris, however, he’d yet to hear the answers in his heart or experience God’s presence in his life, and he knew he didn’t have much time.

He glanced at the clock. Kim’s plane was leaving in less than three hours. She would leave from the hospital to go straight to the airport with Jonah sitting beside her, and the realization was terrifying.

In just a little while, he would hold his son for the last time; today, he would say good-bye.

Jonah was in tears as soon as he rushed into the room, racing straight for the bed. Steve had just enough time to open his arms before Jonah fell into them. His birdlike shoulders were shuddering, and Steve felt his own heart breaking. He concentrated on how his son felt against him, trying to memorize the sensation.

Steve loved his children more than life itself, but more than that, he knew that Jonah needed him, and once more, he was struck by the realization that he was failing as a father.

Jonah continued to cry inconsolably. Steve held him close, wanting never to let go. Ronnie and Kim stood in the doorway, keeping their distance.

“They’re trying to send me home, Daddy,” Jonah whimpered. “I told them I could stay with you, but they’re not listening. I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll go to bed when you tell me to and I’ll clean my room and I won’t eat cookies when I’m not supposed to. Tell them I can stay. I promise to be good.”

“I know you’d be good,” Steve murmured. “You’ve always been good.”

“Then tell her, Dad! Tell her you want me to stay! Please! Just tell her!”

“I do want you to stay,” he said, hurting for himself and for his son. “I want that more than anything, but your mom needs you, too. She misses you.”

If Jonah had held out any hope, it ended then and there, and he began to cry again.

“But I’m never going to see you again… and it’s not fair! It’s just not fair!”

Steve tried to talk through the tightness in his throat. “Hey…,” he said. “I want you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Jonah forced himself to look up. Though he tried not to, Steve knew he was beginning to choke on his words. It took everything he had not to break down in front of his son.

“I want you to know that you’re the best son a dad could hope to have. I’ve always been so proud of you, and I know you’re going to grow up and do wonderful things. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Daddy. And I’m going to miss you so much.”

From the corner of his eye, Steve could see Ronnie and Kim, tears running down their faces.

“I’m going to miss you, too. But I’m always going to watch over you, okay? I promise. Do you remember the window we made together?”

Jonah nodded, his little jaw quivering.

“I call it God Light, because it reminds me of heaven. Every time the light shines through the window we built or any window at all, you’ll know I’m right there with you, okay? That’s going to be me. I’ll be the light in the window.”

Jonah nodded, not even bothering to wipe away his tears. Steve continued to hold his son, wishing with all his heart that he could make things better.

35

R
onnie

R
onnie went outside with her mom and Jonah to see them off, and to speak with her mom alone before she left, asking her to do something for her as soon as she got back to New York. Then she returned to the hospital and sat with her dad, waiting until he fell asleep. For a long time he remained silent, staring out the window. She held his hand, and they sat together without speaking, both of them watching the clouds drifting slowly beyond the glass.

She wanted to stretch her legs and get some fresh air; her dad’s good-bye to Jonah had left her drained and shaky. She didn’t want to picture her brother on the plane or entering their apartment; she didn’t want to think about whether he was still crying.

Outside, she walked along the sidewalk in front of the hospital, her mind wandering. She was almost past him when she heard him clear his throat. He was seated on a bench; despite the heat, he wore the same kind of long-sleeved shirt he always did.

“Hi, Ronnie,” Pastor Harris said.

“Oh… hi.”

“I was hoping to visit with your father.”

“He’s sleeping,” she said. “But you can go up there if you want.”

He tapped his cane, buying time. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through, Ronnie.”

She nodded, finding it hard to concentrate. Even this simple conversation seemed impossibly arduous.

Somehow, she got the sense he felt the same way.

“Would you pray with me?” His blue eyes held a plea. “I like to pray before I see your dad. It… helps me.”

Her surprise gave way to an unexpected sense of relief.

“I’d like that very much,” she answered.

She began to pray regularly after that, and she found that Pastor Harris was right.

Not that she believed her dad would be cured. She’d spoken to the doctor and seen the scans, and after their conversation, she’d left the hospital and gone to the beach and cried for an hour while her tears dried in the wind.

She didn’t believe in miracles. She knew that some people did, but she couldn’t force herself to think that her dad was somehow going to make it. Not after what she’d seen, not after the way the doctor had explained it. The cancer, she’d learned, had metastasized from his stomach to his pancreas and lungs, and holding out hope seemed… dangerous. She couldn’t imagine having to come to terms a second time with what was happening to him. It was hard enough already, especially late at night when the house was quiet and she was alone with her thoughts.

Instead she prayed for the strength she needed to help her dad; she prayed for the ability to stay positive in his presence, instead of crying every time she saw him. She knew he needed her laughter and he needed the daughter she’d recently become.

The first thing she did after bringing him home from the hospital was to take him to see the stained-glass window. She watched as he slowly approached the table, his eyes taking in everything, his expression one of shocked disbelief. She knew then that there had been moments when he’d wondered whether he would live long enough to see it through. More than anything, she wished Jonah had been there with them, and she knew her dad was thinking the same thing. It had been their project, the way they’d spent their summer. He missed Jonah terribly, he missed him more than anything, and though he turned away so she couldn’t see his face, she knew there were tears in his eyes as he made his way back to the house.

He called Jonah as soon as he got back inside. From the living room, Ronnie could hear her dad’s assurances that he was feeling better, and though Jonah would likely misinterpret that, she knew her dad had done the right thing. He wanted Jonah to remember the happiness of the summer, not dwell on what was coming next.

That night, as he sat on the couch, he opened the Bible and began to read. Ronnie now understood his reasons. She took a seat beside him and asked the question she’d been wondering about since she’d examined the book herself.

“Do you have a favorite passage?” she asked.

“Many,” he said. “I’ve always enjoyed the Psalms. And I always learn a lot from the letters of Paul.”

“But you don’t underline anything,” she said. When he raised an eyebrow, she shrugged. “I looked through it while you were gone and I didn’t see anything.”

He thought about his answer. “If I tried to underline something important, I’d probably end up underlining almost everything. I’ve read it so many times and I always learn something new.”

She studied him carefully. “I don’t remember you reading the Bible before…”

“That’s because you were young. I kept this Bible by my bed, and I’d read through parts of it once or twice a week. Ask your mom. She’ll tell you.”

“Have you read anything lately that you’d like to share?”

“Do you want me to?”

After she nodded, it took him only a minute to find the passage he wanted.

“It’s Galatians 5:22,” he said, pressing the Bible flat in his lap. He cleared his throat before he started. “But when the Holy Spirit controls our lives, he will produce this kind of fruit in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”

She watched him as he read the verse, remembering how she’d acted when she’d first arrived and how he’d responded to her anger. She remembered the times he’d refused to argue with her mom, even when she’d tried to provoke him. She’d seen that as weakness and often wished her father were different. But all at once, she knew she’d been wrong about everything.

Her dad, she saw now, had never been acting alone. The Holy Spirit had been controlling his life all along.

The package from her mom arrived the following day, and Ronnie knew her mom had done what she’d asked. She brought the large envelope to the kitchen table and tore it straight across the top, then dumped the contents on the table.

Nineteen letters, all of them sent by her dad, all of them ignored and unopened. She noted the various return addresses he’d scrawled across the top: Bloomington, Tulsa, Little Rock…

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t read them. Had she really been that angry? That bitter? That… mean? Looking back, she knew the answer, but it still didn’t make sense to her.

Thumbing through the letters, she looked for the first one he’d written. Like most of the others, it was printed neatly in black ink, and the postmark had faded slightly. Beyond the kitchen window, her dad was standing on the beach with his back to the house: Like Pastor Harris, he’d begun to wear long sleeves despite the summer heat.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the letter, and there, in the sunlight of the kitchen, she began to read.

Dear Ronnie,

I don’t even know how to start a letter like this, other than to say that I’m sorry.

That’s why I asked you to meet with me at the café, and what I wanted to tell you later that night when I called. I can understand why you didn’t come and why you didn’t take my call. You’re angry with me, you’re disappointed in me, and in your heart, you believe I’ve run away. In your mind, I’ve abandoned you and abandoned the family.

I can’t deny that things are going to be different, but I want you to know that if I were in your shoes, I would probably feel much the way you do. You have every right to be angry with me. You have every right to be disappointed in me. I suppose I’ve earned the feelings you have, and it’s not my intent to try to make excuses or cast any blame or try to convince you that you might understand it in time.

In all honesty, you might not, and that would hurt me more than you could ever imagine. You and Jonah have always meant so much to me, and I want you to understand that neither you nor Jonah were to blame for anything. Sometimes, for reasons that aren’t always clear, marriages just don’t work out. But remember this: I will always love you, and I will always love Jonah. I will always love your mother, and she will always have my respect. She is the giver of the two greatest gifts I’ve ever received, and she’s been a wonderful mother. In many ways, despite the sadness I feel that your mother and I will no longer be together, I still believe it was a blessing to have been married to her for as long as I was.

I know this isn’t much and it’s certainly not enough to make you understand, but I want you to know that I still believe in the gift of love. I want you to believe in it, too. You deserve that in your life, for nothing is more fulfilling than love itself.

I hope that in your heart, you’ll find some way to forgive me for leaving. It doesn’t have to be now, or even soon. But I want you to know this: When you’re finally ready, I’ll be waiting with open arms on what will be the happiest day of my life.

I love you,

Dad

“I feel like I should be doing more for him,” Ronnie said.

She was sitting on the back porch across from Pastor Harris. Her dad was inside sleeping, and Pastor Harris had come by with a pan of vegetable lasagna that his wife had made. It was mid-September and still hot during the day, though there’d been an evening a couple of days earlier that hinted at the crispness of autumn. It lasted only a single night; in the morning the sun was hot, and Ronnie had found herself strolling the beach and wondering whether the night before had been an illusion.

“You’re doing all you can,” he said. “I don’t know that there’s anything more you could be doing.”

“I’m not talking about taking care of him. Right now, he doesn’t even need me that much. He still insists on cooking, and we go for walks on the beach. We even flew kites yesterday. Aside from the pain medication, which makes him really tired, he’s pretty much the same as before he went to the hospital. It’s just…”

Pastor Harris’s gaze was full of understanding. “You want to do something special. Something that means a lot to him.”

She nodded, glad that he was here. In the past few weeks, Pastor Harris had become not only her friend, but the only person she could really talk to.

“I have faith that God will show you the answer. But you have to understand that sometimes it takes a while to be able to recognize what God wants you to do. That’s how it often is. God’s voice is usually nothing more than a whisper, and you have to listen very carefully to hear it. But other times, in those rarest of moments, the answer is obvious and rings as loud as a church bell.”

She smiled, thinking she’d grown fond of their conversations. “You sound like you talk from experience.”

“I love your dad, too. And like you, I wanted to do something special for him.”

“And God answered?”

“God always answers.”

“Was it a whisper or a church bell?”

For the first time in a long while, she saw a touch of mirth in his eyes. “A church bell, of course. God knows I’m hard of hearing these days.”

“What are you going to do?”

He sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m going to install the window in the church,” he said. “A benefactor showed up out of the blue last week, and not only offered to cover the rest of the repairs in full, but already had all the work crews lined up. They start work again tomorrow morning.”

Over the next couple of days, Ronnie listened for church bells, but all she heard were seagulls. When listening for whispers, she heard nothing at all. It didn’t necessarily surprise her—the answer hadn’t come to Pastor Harris right away, either—but she hoped the answer would come before it was too late.

Instead, she simply continued on as she had before. She helped her dad when he needed help, let him be when he didn’t, and tried to make the most of the remaining time they had together. That weekend, because her dad was feeling stronger, they made an outing to Orton Plantation Gardens, near Southport. It wasn’t far from Wilmington and Ronnie had never been before, but as they pulled onto the graveled road that led to the original mansion, built in 1735, she already knew it was going to be a memorable day. It was the kind of place that seemed lost in time. The flowers were no longer in bloom, but as they walked among the giant oaks with their low-slung branches draped in Spanish moss, Ronnie thought that she’d never been anywhere more beautiful.

Strolling under the trees, her arm looped through her father’s, they talked about the summer. For the first time, Ronnie told her dad about her relationship with Will; she told him about the first time they went fishing and the times they went mudding, she described his fancy dive from the cabana roof, and she told him all about the fiasco at the wedding. She didn’t, however, tell him what happened on the day before he left for Vanderbilt or the things she’d said to him. She wasn’t ready for that; the wound was still too raw. And as always when she talked, her dad listened quietly, rarely interjecting, even when she trailed off. She liked that about him. No, change that, she thought. She
loved
that about him, and she found herself wondering who she would have become had she never come down for the summer.