The Last Song

by Nicholas Sparks

  "Are you mad at me?" she asked.

  It was the first time since she'd been here that she'd spoken to him without a hint of anger or frustration.

  "No," he said. "Not at all."

  "Then what are you doing out here?"

  He pointed toward the nest. "A loggerhead turtle laid her eggs last night. Have you ever seen one?"

  Ronnie shook her head, and Steve went on. "They're beautiful creatures. They've got this reddish-brown shell, and they can weigh up to eight hundred pounds. North Carolina is one of the few places they nest. But anyway, they're endangered. I think only one out of a thousand live to maturity, and I don't want the raccoons to get the nest before they hatch."

  "How would the raccoons even know that a nest is here?"

  "When a female loggerhead lays her eggs, she urinates. The raccoons can smell it, and they'll eat every single one of the eggs. When I was young, I found a nest on the other side of the pier. One day everything was fine, and the next day all the shells had been broken open. It was sad."

  "I saw a raccoon on our porch the other day."

  "I know. It's been getting into the garbage. And as soon as I go in, I'm going to leave a message with the aquarium. Hopefully, they'll send someone by tomorrow with a special cage that'll keep the critters out."

  "What about tonight?"

  "I guess we're going to have to have faith."

  Ronnie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Dad? Can I ask you something?"

  "Anything."

  "Why did you say you believed me?"

  In profile, he could see both the young woman she was becoming and the little girl he remembered.

  "Because I trust you."

  "Is that why you built the wall to hide the piano?" She looked at him only indirectly. "When I went inside, it wasn't that hard to miss."

  Steve shook his head. "No. I did that because I love you."

  Ronnie flashed a brief smile, hesitating before taking a seat beside him. They watched the waves rolling steadily up the shore. High tide would be here soon, and the beach was half-gone.

  "What's going to happen to me?" she asked.

  "Pete is going to talk to the owner, but I don't know. A couple of those records were real collector's items. They're pretty valuable."

  Ronnie felt sick to her stomach. "Have you told Mom yet?"

  "No."

  "Are you going to?"

  "Probably."

  Neither of them said anything for a moment. At the water's edge, a group of surfers walked past, holding their boards. In the distance, the swells were slowly rising, forming waves that seemed to collide before immediately re-forming.

  "When are you going to call the aquarium?"

  "When I head back inside. I'm sure Jonah's getting hungry anyway. I should probably start dinner."

  Ronnie stared at the nest. With her stomach in knots, she couldn't imagine eating. "I don't want anything to happen to the turtle eggs tonight."

  Steve turned toward her. "So what do you want to do?"

  Hours later, after tucking Jonah into bed, Steve stepped out onto the back porch to check on Ronnie. Earlier, after he'd left a message at the aquarium, he'd gone to the store to buy what he thought she needed: a light sleeping bag, a camping lantern, a cheap pillow, and some bug spray.

  He wasn't comfortable with the idea of Ronnie sleeping outside, but she was clearly determined and he admired her impulse to protect the nest. She'd been insistent that she would be fine, and to some extent, he trusted she was right. Like most people who grew up in Manhattan, she'd learned to be careful and had seen and experienced enough of the world to know it was sometimes a dangerous place. Moreover, the nest was less than fifty feet from his bedroom window--which he intended to keep open--so he was confident he'd hear something if Ronnie ran into trouble. Because of the shape of the windblown dune and the location of the nest, it wasn't likely that anyone walking on the beach would even know she was there.

  Still, she was only seventeen, and he was her father, all of which meant he'd probably end up checking on her every few hours. There wasn't a chance he'd be able to sleep through the night.

  The moon was only a sliver, but the sky was clear, and as he moved through the shadows, he thought back on their conversation. He wondered how she felt about the fact that he'd hidden the piano. Would she wake up tomorrow with the same attitude she'd had when she'd first arrived? He didn't know. As he drew near enough to make out Ronnie's sleeping form, the play of starlight and shadow made her appear both younger and older than she really was. He thought again about the years he'd lost and would never get back.

  He stayed long enough to gaze up and down the beach. As far as he could tell, no one was out, so he turned and headed back inside. He sat on the couch and turned on the television, flipping through the channels before turning it off. Finally, he went to his room and crawled into bed.

  He fell asleep almost immediately but woke an hour later. Tiptoeing outside again, he went to check on the daughter he loved more than life itself.

  12

  Ronnie

  Her first thought upon waking was that everything hurt. Her back was stiff, her neck ached, and when she got the courage to sit up, a stabbing pain coursed through her shoulder.

  She couldn't imagine anyone ever choosing to sleep outdoors. When she was growing up, some of her friends had extolled the joys of camping, but she'd thought they were deranged. Sleeping on the ground hurt.

  And so, of course, did the blinding sun. Judging by fact that she'd been waking up with the farmers since she'd arrived, she figured today was no different. It probably wasn't even seven yet. The sun was hanging low over the ocean, and a few people were walking their dogs or jogging near the water's edge. No doubt they'd slept in beds. She couldn't imagine walking, let alone exercising. Right now it was hard enough to breathe without passing out.

  Steeling herself, she slowly got to her feet before remembering why she'd been out here in the first place. She checked the nest, noting with relief that it was undisturbed, and ever so slowly, the aches and pains began to subside. She wondered idly how Blaze could tolerate sleeping on the beach, and then all of a sudden she remembered what Blaze had done to her.

  Arrested for shoplifting. Serious shoplifting. Felony shoplifting.

  She closed her eyes, reliving it all: the way the store manager had glared at her until the officer had arrived, Officer Pete's disappointment on the drive to the station, the awful phone call she'd had to make to her dad. She'd felt like throwing up on the car ride home.

  If there was one bright spot in all that had happened, it was that her dad hadn't blown a gasket. And even more incredible, he'd said he believed her to be innocent Then again, he hadn't spoken to Mom yet. As soon as that happened, all bets were off. No doubt Mom would scream and shout until Dad gave in, and he'd end up grounding her because he'd promised Mom that he would. After the Incident, her mom had grounded her for a month, and this was way, way bigger than just an incident.

  She felt sick again. She couldn't imagine having to spend an entire month in her room, a room she had to share, no less, in a place she didn't want to be. She wondered if things could get any worse. As she stretched her arms above her head, she yelped at a stabbing pain in her shoulder. She lowered them slowly, wincing.

  She spent the next couple of minutes dragging her things to the back porch. Even though the nest was behind her house, she didn't want the neighbors to guess that she'd slept outside. Based on the grandeur of their houses, she pegged them as the kind of people who wanted everything picture perfect when they stood on their back decks drinking coffee in the mornings. The knowledge that someone had been sleeping beside their house probably didn't fit with their image of perfection, and the last thing she wanted was to have the police to show up again. With her luck, she'd probably get arrested for vagrancy. Felony vagrancy.

  It took two trips to get everything--she didn't have the energy to carry it all at once--and then she realized
she'd left behind her copy of Anna Karenina. She'd intended to read it last night, but she'd been too tired and had set it under a piece of driftwood so the mist wouldn't ruin it. When she went back to get it, she spotted someone wearing a beige jumpsuit advertising Blakelee Brakes, carrying a roll of yellow tape and a bunch of sticks. He seemed to be walking up the beach toward the house.

  By the time she'd retrieved her book, the man was closer and hunting around the dune. She started toward him, wondering what he was doing, and then he turned in her direction. When their eyes met, it was one of the few times in her life that she actually felt tongue-tied.

  She recognized him immediately, despite the uniform. She flashed on the way he'd looked without a shirt, tan and fit, his brown hair wet with sweat, the macrame bracelet on his wrist. He was the guy at the volleyball court who'd crashed into her, the guy whose friend almost got into a fight with Marcus.

  Coming to a halt in front of her, he didn't seem to know what to say, either. Instead, he just stared at her. Although she knew it was crazy, she had the impression that he was somehow pleased to run into her again. She could see it in his dawning recognition, in the way he began to smile at her, none of which made any sense.

  "Hey, it's you," he said. "Good morning."

  She wasn't sure what to think, other than to question the friendly tone.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked.

  "I got a call from the aquarium. Someone called last night to report a loggerhead nest, and they asked me to come here to check it out."

  "You work for the aquarium?"

  He shook his head. "I just volunteer there. I work at my dad's brake shop. You wouldn't happen to have seen a turtle nest around here, would you?"

  She felt herself relax a little. "It's over there," she said, pointing.

  "Hey, that's great." He smiled. "I was hoping it was near a house."

  "Why?"

  "Because of storms. If the waves wash over the nest, the eggs won't make it."

  "But they're sea turtles."

  He raised his hands. "I know. It doesn't make sense to me, either, but that's the way nature works. Last year, we lost a couple of nests when a tropical storm came through. It was really sad. They're endangered, you know. Only one out of a thousand live to maturity."

  "Yeah, I know."

  "You do?" He sounded impressed.

  "My dad told me."

  "Oh," he said. He motioned down the beach with a friendly wave. "I take it you live around here?"

  "Why do you want to know?"

  "Just making conversation," he answered easily. "My name's Will, by the way."

  "Hi, Will."

  He paused. "Interesting."

  "What?"

  "Usually when someone introduces himself, the other person does the same."

  "I'm not most people." Ronnie crossed her arms, careful to keep her distance.

  "I already figured that out." He flashed a quick smile. "I'm sorry about running into you at the volleyball game."

  "You already apologized, remember?"

  "I know. But you seemed kind of mad."

  "My soda went down my shirt."

  "That's too bad. But you should really try to pay more attention to what's going on."

  "Excuse me?"

  "It's a fast-moving game."

  She put her hands on her hips. "Are you trying to say it was my fault?"

  "Just trying to make sure it doesn't happen again. Like I said, I felt bad about what happened."

  With his answer, she got the feeling that he was trying to flirt with her, but she didn't know why. It didn't make sense--she knew she wasn't his type, and frankly, he wasn't her type, either. But at this early hour, she wasn't in the mood to try to figure it out. Instead, she motioned to the items he was holding, thinking it was probably better to get back to the subject at hand. "How is that tape supposed to keep the raccoons away?"

  "It doesn't. I'm just here to mark the nest. I run the tape around the dowels so the guys who do put up the cage know where to find the nest."

  "When are they going to put it up?"

  "I don't know." He shrugged. "Maybe in a couple of days."

  She thought about the agony she'd experienced upon waking, and she began to shake her head. "No, I don't think so. You call them and tell them that they have to do something to protect the nest today. Tell them I saw a raccoon last night hovering around the nest."

  "Did you?"

  "Just tell them, okay?"

  "As soon as I'm finished, I'll make sure to call. I promise."

  She squinted up at him, thinking that was too easy, but before she could dwell on it further, her dad stepped onto the back porch.

  "Good morning, sweetheart," he called out. "I've got breakfast going if you're hungry."

  Will looked from Ronnie to her dad and back again. "You live here?"

  Instead of answering, she took a step backward. "Just make sure you tell the people at the aquarium, okay?"

  She started back toward the house and had stepped onto the porch when she heard Will call out.

  "Hey!"

  She turned.

  "You didn't tell me your name."

  "No," she answered. "I don't suppose I did."

  As she headed for the door, she knew she shouldn't look back, but she couldn't help stealing a quick peek over her shoulder.

  When he raised an eyebrow, she kicked herself mentally, glad that she hadn't told him her name.

  In the kitchen, her dad was standing over a frying pan at the stove, stirring with a spatula. On the counter beside him lay a packet of tortillas, and Ronnie had to admit that whatever he was making smelled terrific. Then again, she hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.

  "Hey there," he said over his shoulder. "Who was that you were talking to?"

  "Just some guy from the aquarium. He's here to mark the nest. What are you making?"

  "A vegetarian breakfast burrito."

  "You're kidding."

  "It has rice, beans, and tofu. It all goes in the tortilla. I hope that's okay. I found the recipe online, so I can't vouch for how it tastes."

  "I'm sure it's fine," she said. She crossed her arms, thinking she might as well get this over with. "Have you talked to Mom yet?"

  He shook his head. "No, not yet. I did talk to Pete this morning, though. He said he still hadn't been able to talk to the owner yet. She's out of town."

  "She?"

  "It seems the man who works there is the owner's nephew. But Pete said he knows the owner pretty well."

  "Oh," she said, wondering if that would make any difference.

  Her dad tapped the spatula on the pan. "Anyway, I just figured that it might be a good idea if I held off calling your mom until I have all the details. I'd hate to have to worry her unnecessarily."

  "You mean you might not have to tell her?"

  "Unless you want me to."

  "No, that's okay," she said quickly. "You're right. It's probably better if we wait."

  "Okay," he agreed. After one last stir, he turned off the burner. "I think this is just about ready. Are you hungry?"

  "Starved," she confessed.

  As she approached, he took down a plate from the cupboard and added a tortilla, then scooped some of the mixings onto it. He offered it to her. "Is that enough?"

  "Plenty," she said.

  "Do you want coffee? I've got a pot going." He reached for a coffee cup and handed it to her. "Jonah mentioned that sometimes you go to Starbucks, so that's what I bought. It might not be as good as what they make in their stores, but it's the best I can do."

  She took the cup, staring at him. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

  "Why shouldn't I be?"

  Because I haven't been very nice to you, she could have said. But she didn't. "Thanks," she mumbled instead, thinking the whole thing felt like some weird Twilight Zone episode, where her dad had somehow completely forgotten the last three years.

  She poured herself some coffee and took a s
eat at the table. Steve joined her a moment later with his own plate and began to roll his burrito.

  "How was it last night? Did you sleep okay?"

  "Yeah, when I slept. Waking up wasn't so easy."

  "I realized too late that I probably should have picked up an air mattress."

  "It's okay. But after breakfast, I think I'm going to lie down for a while. I'm still kind of tired. It's been a long couple of days."

  "Maybe you shouldn't have coffee."

  "It won't matter. Believe me, I'll be out."

  Behind them, Jonah walked into the kitchen wearing Transformers pajamas, his hair poking out all over. Ronnie couldn't help smiling.

  "Good morning, Jonah," she said.

  "Are the turtles okay?"

  "They're fine," she said.

  "Good job," he said. He scratched his back as he walked to the stove. "What's for breakfast?"

  "Breakfast burritos," her dad answered.

  Warily, Jonah studied the mixings in the pan, then the items on the counter. "Don't tell me you went over to the dark side, Dad!"

  Steve tried to stifle his smile. "It's good."

  "It's tofu! It's disgusting!"

  Ronnie laughed as she pushed back from the table. "How about I get you a Pop-Tart instead?"

  He seemed to be trying to decide if this was some kind of trick question. "With chocolate milk?"

  Ronnie glanced at her dad.

  "There's plenty in the fridge," he said.

  She poured him a glass and set it on the table. Jonah didn't move. "Okay, what's going on?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "This isn't normal," he said. "Someone should be mad. Someone's always mad in the mornings."

  "Are you talking about me?" Ronnie asked. She put two Pop-Tarts in the toaster. "I'm always cheerful."

  "Yeah, right," he said. He squinted at her. "Are you sure the turtles are okay? 'Cause the two of you are acting like they died."

  "They're fine. I promise," Ronnie assured him.

  "I'm going to check."

  "Go ahead."

  He studied her. "After breakfast," he added.

  Steve smiled and glanced over at her. "So what's on your agenda today?" he asked. "After your nap?"

  Jonah reached for his milk. "You never take naps."

  "I do when I'm tired."

  "No," he said, shaking his head. "This isn't right." He put the milk back down. "Something weird is going on and I'm not leaving here until I find out what it is."