The Last Song

by Nicholas Sparks

  "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--"

  By then, he could barely get the words out, and he suddenly rocked back and collapsed onto the ground. Wrapping his arms around his knees and lowering his head, he began to sob, his shoulders convulsing.

  Ronnie took a seat on the floor beside him. She slipped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him toward her as he continued to cry. As Will watched, he could feel a lump in the back of his throat, knowing he didn't belong here.

  Still, he stayed while Ronnie held her brother as he cried, not trying to hush him or assure him that everything was going to be okay. She just held him wordlessly until his sobs began to subside. Finally he looked up, his eyes red through his glasses, his face blotchy with tears.

  When Ronnie spoke, her voice was gentle--as kind as he had ever heard her.

  "Can we go in the house for a few minutes? I just want to check the cut on your leg."

  Jonah's voice was still quavering. "What about the window? It has to be finished."

  Ronnie met Will's eyes, then returned her gaze to Jonah. "Can we help?"

  Jonah shook his head. "You don't know how."

  "Show us."

  After Ronnie cleaned Jonah's leg and put some Band-Aids on it, Jonah led them back to the workshop.

  The window was nearly complete--all of the detailed etchings of the faces were finished, and the reinforcing bars were already in place. The work that remained consisted of adding hundreds of intricate pieces to form the heavenly glow in the sky.

  Jonah showed Will how to cut the lead strips and taught Ronnie how to solder; Jonah cut the glass, as he'd been doing most of the summer, and slid them into the lead strips before making room for Ronnie to set the pieces in place.

  It was hot and crowded in the workshop, but eventually the three of them fell into a rhythm of sorts. At lunchtime, Will ran out to pick up some burgers and a salad for Ronnie; they took a short break while they ate but were soon back at their task. As the afternoon rolled on, Ronnie called the hospital three times, only to learn that her dad was either in tests or sleeping but doing well. By the time dusk settled in, they'd finished about half the work; Jonah's hands were getting tired, and they took another break to eat before moving some lamps from the living room to add additional light to the workshop.

  Darkness fell, and Jonah was yawning steadily by ten; when they went inside to relax for a few minutes, Jonah fell asleep almost immediately. Will carried him to his room and put him in bed. By the time he returned to the living room, Ronnie was already back at the workshop.

  Will took over the glass cutting; he'd seen Jonah doing it all day, and though he made some mistakes in the beginning, he quickly got the hang of it.

  They worked through the night, and by the time dawn began to break, both of them were dead on their feet. On the table in front of them lay the completed window. Will wasn't sure how Jonah would feel knowing he hadn't had a hand in finishing the final pieces, but he figured Ronnie would know how to handle it.

  "You two look like you've been up all night," said a voice behind them. Turning around, Will saw Pastor Harris standing in the doorway.

  Pastor Harris was leaning on his cane. He was wearing a suit--probably for his Sunday church service--but Will noticed the horrific scars on the backs of his hands and knew immediately that they extended up his arms. Thinking back to the fire at the church and the secret he'd kept all these months, he found it impossible to meet the pastor's eyes.

  "We've been finishing the window," Ronnie said hoarsely.

  Pastor Harris motioned toward the window. "May I?"

  Ronnie nodded. "Of course."

  Pastor Harris stepped into the workshop, moving slowly. His cane tapped against the wooden floor as he approached. At the table, his expression changed from curiosity to wonderment. Leaning on his cane, he ran a knobby, scarred hand over the glass.

  "It's incredible," he breathed. "It's more beautiful than I would have imagined possible."

  "My dad and Jonah did all the real work," Ronnie said. "We just helped to finish it."

  He smiled. "Your father will be so pleased."

  "How's the church coming? I know my dad would love to see the window in place."

  "From your mouth to God's ears." He shrugged. "The church isn't as popular as it once was, so there aren't as many members. But I have faith that it will work out."

  From her anxious expression, Will knew Ronnie was wondering whether or not the window would be installed in time but was afraid to ask.

  "Your dad is doing well, by the way," Pastor Harris said. "He should be out of the hospital soon, and you should be able to visit him this morning. You didn't miss much yesterday. I spent most of the day sitting in his room alone while they were running tests."

  "Thanks for staying with him."

  "No, sweetheart," he said. He glanced at the window again. "Thank you."

  It was quiet in the workshop as Pastor Harris made his way out. Will watched him go, unable to shake the image of his scarred hands.

  In the silence, he studied the window, struck by the work that had been necessary to make a new one, a window that shouldn't have had to be replaced. He thought of the pastor's words and the possibility that Ronnie's dad might not even live to see the window installed.

  Ronnie was lost in her own thoughts as he turned to her.

  He felt something collapse inside him, like a house of cards. "There's something I need to tell you."

  As they sat on the dune, Will told her everything from the beginning. When he finished, Ronnie seemed confused.

  "You're saying that Scott started the fire? And that you've been protecting him?" Her voice rang with disbelief. "You've been lying for him?"

  Will shook his head. "It's not like that. I told you it was an accident."

  "It doesn't matter." Ronnie's eyes searched his. "Accident or not, he needs to take responsibility for what he did."

  "I know. I told him to go to the police."

  "But what if he doesn't? Are you going to keep covering f
or him forever? You're going to let Marcus keep controlling your life? It's wrong."

  "But he's my friend..."

  Ronnie leapt to her feet. "Pastor Harris almost died in that fire! He spent weeks in the hospital. Do you know how painful burns are? Why don't you ask Blaze how it feels? And the church... you know he can't even rebuild it... and now my dad's never going to see the window where it belongs!"

  Will shook his head, trying to stay calm. He could see that it was all too much for Ronnie--her dad, his impending departure, her upcoming court date. "I know it was wrong," he said quietly. "And I've felt guilty about it. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to go to the police."

  "So what?" she demanded. "That doesn't mean anything! Didn't you hear me when I told you about admitting in court what I had done? Because I knew what I did was wrong! Truth only means something when it's hard to admit! Don't you get that? That church was Pastor Harris's life! It was my dad's life! And now it's gone and the insurance won't cover the damage and they have to hold services in a warehouse..."

  "Scott's my friend," he protested. "I can't just... throw him to the wolves."

  She blinked, wondering if he could even hear what he was saying. "How can you be so selfish?"

  "I'm not being selfish--"

  "That's exactly what you are, and if you can't understand that, then I don't want to talk to you!" she said. She turned and started toward the house. "Just go! Leave!"

  "Ronnie!" he called out, getting up to follow her. She sensed his movement and whirled to face him.

  "It's over, okay?"

  "It's not over. C'mon, be reasonable..."

  "Reasonable?" She waved her hands. "You want me to be reasonable? You haven't just been lying for Scott, you've been lying to me, too! You knew why my dad was making the window! You stood right next to me and you never said anything about it!" Her words seemed to clarify something in her mind, and she took another step backward. "You're not who I thought you were! I thought you were better than this!"

  He flinched, unable to think of a response, but when he took a step forward, she retreated.

  "Go! You're leaving anyway, and we're never going to see each other again. Summers always come to an end. We can talk and pretend all we want, but we can't change that, so let's just end it here and now. I can't handle all this right now, and I can't be with someone I don't trust." Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I don't trust you, Will. You need to go."

  He couldn't move, couldn't speak.

  "Leave!" she shouted, and ran back to the house.

  That night, his last night in Wrightsville Beach, Will sat in the den, still trying to make sense of everything that had happened. He looked up when his dad walked in.

  "You okay?" Tom asked. "You were kind of quiet at dinner."

  "Yeah," Will answered. "I'm okay."

  His dad wandered to the couch and took a seat across from him. "Are you nervous about leaving tomorrow?"

  Will shook his head. "No."

  "Are you all packed?"

  Will nodded and felt his dad studying him. His dad leaned forward.

  "What's going on? You know you can talk to me."

  Will took his time before answering, suddenly nervous. Finally, he met his father's eyes. "If I asked you to do something important for me, something big, would you do it? No questions asked?"

  Tom leaned back, still studying him, and in the silence, Will knew what the answer would be.

  33

  Ronnie

  You really finished the window?"

  Ronnie watched her dad as he talked to Jonah in the hospital room, thinking he seemed better. He still looked tired, but his cheeks had a bit more color and he was moving with greater ease.

  "It's awesome, Dad," Jonah said. "I can't wait for you to see it."

  "But there were still so many pieces left."

  "Ronnie and Will helped a little," Jonah admitted.

  "Yeah?"

  "I had to show them how. They didn't know anything. But don't worry, I was patient even when they made mistakes."

  Her dad smiled. "That's good to hear."

  "Yeah, I'm a pretty good teacher."

  "I'm sure you are."

  Jonah wrinkled his nose. "It smells kinda funny in here, doesn't it?"

  "A little."

  Jonah nodded. "I thought so." He motioned toward the television. "Have you been watching any movies?"

  Her dad shook his head. "Not too many."

  "What does that do?"

  Her dad glanced at the IV bag. "It's got some medicine in it."

  "Will it make you better?"

  "I'm feeling better now."

  "So you're coming home?"

  "Pretty soon."

  "Today?"

  "Maybe tomorrow," he said. "But you know what I could use?"

  "What?"

  "A soda. Do you remember where the cafeteria is? Down the hall and around the corner?"

  "I know where it is. I'm not a little kid. What kind do you want?"

  "A Sprite or a Seven-Up."

  "I don't have any money, though."

  When her dad glanced at her, Ronnie took it as a cue to reach into her back pocket. "I've got some," she said. She pulled what she thought he'd need from her pocket and handed it to him as he headed out the door. As soon as he was gone, she could feel her dad staring at her.

  "The lawyer called this morning. They've postponed your court date until late October."

  Ronnie's gaze flickered to the window. "I can't think about that right now."

  "I'm sorry," he said. He was quiet for a moment, and she could feel him watching her. "How's Jonah really holding up?" he asked.

  Ronnie gave a half shrug. "Lost. Confused. Scared. Barely holding it together." Like me, she wanted to say.

  Her dad motioned for her to come over. She took a seat in the chair that Jonah had been using. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to stay out of the hospital. I never wanted you to see me like this."

  She was already shaking her head. "Never, ever apologize for that."

  "But--"

  "No buts, okay? I needed to know. I'm glad I know."

  He seemed to accept that. But then he surprised her.

  "Do you want to talk about what happened with Will?"

  "What makes you say something like that?" she asked.

  "Because I know you. Because I know when something else is on your mind. And because I know how much you cared for him."

  Ronnie sat up straighter, not wanting to lie to him. "He went home to pack," she said.

  She could feel her dad studying her.

  "Did I ever tell you my dad was a poker player?"

  "Yeah, you told me. Why? Do you want to play poker?"

  "No," he said. "I just know there's more to what happened with Will than what you're saying, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, too."

  Ronnie hesitated. She knew he'd be understanding, but she wasn't ready yet. "Like I said, he's leaving," she said instead. And with a nod, her dad let it go.

  "You look tired," he said. "You should go home and take a nap later."

  "I will. But I want to stay here for a while."

  He adjusted his hand in hers. "Okay."

  She glanced at the IV bag Jonah had asked about before. But unlike her brother, she knew that it wasn't medicine to make him better.

  "Does it hurt?" she asked.

  He paused before answering. "No," he answered. "Not too much."

  "But it has hurt?"

  Her dad started to shake his head. "Sweetheart..."

  "I want to know. Did it hurt before you got here? Tell me the truth, okay?"

  He scratched at his chest before answering. "Yes."

  "How long?"

  "I don't know what you mean--"

  "I want to know when it started hurting," Ronnie said, leaning over the bedrail. She willed him to meet her eyes.

  Again, he shook his head. "It's not important
. I'm feeling better. And the doctors know what to do to keep helping me."

  "Please," she said. "When did it start hurting?"

  He looked down at their hands, clasped so tightly on the bed. "I don't know. March or April? But it wasn't every day--"

  "When it hurt before," she went on, determined to hear the truth, "what did you do?"

  "It wasn't so bad before," he answered.

  "But it still hurt, right?"

  "Yes."

  "What did you do?"

  "I don't know," he protested. "I tried not to think about it. I focused on other things."

  She could feel the tension in her shoulders, hating what he might say but needing to know. "What did you focus on?"

  Her dad smoothed out a wrinkle in the bedsheet with his free hand. "Why is this so important to you?"

  "Because I want to know whether you focused on other things by playing the piano."

  As soon as she said it, she knew she was right. "I saw you playing that night in the church, the night you had that coughing fit. And Jonah said you'd been sneaking over there as soon as the piano came in."

  "Honey--"

  "Do you remember when you said that playing the piano made you feel better?"

  Her dad nodded. He could see what was coming, and she was sure he wouldn't want to answer. But she had to know.

  "Did you mean that you didn't feel the pain as much? And please tell me the truth. I'll know if you're lying." Ronnie would not be deflected, not this time.

  He closed his eyes briefly, then met her gaze. "Yes."

  "But you built the wall around the piano anyway?"

  "Yes," he said again.

  With that, she felt her fragile composure give way. Her jaw began to quiver as she lowered her head to her dad's chest.

  Her dad reached out to her. "Don't cry," he said. "Please don't cry..."

  But she couldn't help it. The memories of how she'd acted back then and the knowledge of what he had been going through drained whatever energy she had left. "Oh, Daddy..."

  "No, baby... please don't cry. It wasn't so bad back then. I thought I could handle it, and I think I did. It wasn't until the last week or so that..." He touched a finger to her jaw, and when she looked into his eyes, what she saw there almost broke her heart. She had to look away.

  "I could handle it then," he repeated, and she knew by his voice that he meant it. "I promise. It hurt, but it wasn't the only thing I thought about, because I could escape it in other ways. Like working on the window with Jonah, or just enjoying the kind of summer I dreamed about when I asked your mom to let both of you stay with me."