The Last Song(40)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

“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.

32

Will

Will 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—”

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.”