The Last Song (17 page)

She watched her dad as he answered, trying to read between the lines.

“There was someone else, wasn’t there,” she said. Her voice held no inflection.

Her dad didn’t answer, and his gaze fell away. Ronnie felt something plummet inside her.

When he finally answered, he sounded tired. “I know I should have tried harder to save the marriage, and I’m sorry about that. More sorry than you’ll ever know. But I want you to know something, okay? I never once stopped believing in your mom, I never once stopped believing in the endurance of our love. Even though it didn’t work out in the end the way you or I wanted it to, I see you and Jonah and I think how lucky I am to have you as children. In a lifetime of mistakes, you two are the greatest things that have ever happened to me.”

When he finished, she scooped up another handful of sand and let it trickle through her fingers, feeling tired again. “What am I going to do?”

“You mean about today?”

“I mean about everything.”

She felt him lay a gentle hand on her back. “I think maybe your first step should be to go talk to him.”

“Who?”

“Will,” he said. “Do you remember when you walked past the house yesterday? When I was standing on the porch? I was watching you, thinking how natural the two of you seemed together.”

“You don’t even know him,” Ronnie said, her voice a mixture of wonder and surprise.

“No,” he said. He smiled, his expression tender. “But I know you. And you were happy yesterday.”

“What if he won’t talk to me?” she fretted.

“He will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was watching, and he was happy, too.”

*     *     *

Standing outside the lobby of Blakelee Brakes, she could only think,
I don’t want to do this.
She didn’t want to face him, except she also sort of wanted to and knew she had no other choice. She knew she hadn’t been fair to him, and at the very least, he deserved to know what Ashley had said to her. He’d waited outside her house for hours, right?

Besides, she had to admit her father was right. She’d had a lot of fun with Will, or at least as much fun as she could have in a place like this. And there was something about him that set him apart from any of the guys she’d known. Not so much that he played volleyball and had the body of an athlete, or even that he was smarter than he let on. He wasn’t afraid of her. Too many guys simply rolled over these days, thinking that being nice was all that mattered. And it did matter, but not if the guy equated being nice with being a doormat. She liked the fact that he’d taken her fishing, even though she hadn’t been enthusiastic about it. It was his way of telling her,
This is who I am, and this is what I enjoy, and of all the people I know right now, I want to enjoy this experience with you.
Too often, when a guy asked her out, he picked her up without the slightest idea of what to do or where to go, eventually forcing her to come up with the plan. There was something so wishy-washy and clueless about that. Will was anything but wishy-washy, and she couldn’t help liking him for that.

Which meant, of course, that she had to fix things. Steeling herself in case he was still angry, she entered the lobby. In the bay, Will and Scott were working beneath a lifted car. Scott said something to Will, who turned and saw her, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he wiped his hands on a rag and started toward her.

He stopped a few feet away. Up close, his expression was unreadable. “What do you want?”

Not exactly the opening she’d hoped for, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected, either.

“You were right,” she said. “Yesterday, I left the game because Ashley said that I was just your latest project. She also implied that I wasn’t the first, that our day together—all the things we did and places you took me—were tricks you use with every new girl.”

Will continued to stare at her. “She lied.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you leave me sitting outside for hours? And why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”

She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, feeling shame well up in her chest but trying not to let it show. “I was angry and upset. And I was going to tell you, but you left before I had the chance.”

“You’re saying it was my fault?”

“No, not at all. There’s a lot of stuff that was going on that doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s been… difficult for the past few days.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair. It felt so hot in the garage.

Will took a moment to absorb what she’d said. “Why would you believe her in the first place? You don’t even know her.”

She closed her eyes. Why? she wondered.
Because I’m an idiot.Because I should have trusted my instincts about her.
But she didn’t say those things. She simply shook her head. “I don’t know.”

When she didn’t seem willing to add anything else, he tucked his thumbs into his pockets. “Is that all you came to say? Because I’ve got to get back to work.”

“I also wanted to apologize,” she said, her voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

“Yeah, you did,” Will shot back. “You were completely irrational. Anything else?”

“And I also wanted you to know that I had a really good time yesterday. Well, up until the end, anyway.”

“Okay.”

She wasn’t sure what his answer meant, but when he flashed a brief smile, she felt herself begin to relax.

“‘Okay?’ That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say after I came all the way down here to apologize? ‘Okay’?”

Instead of answering, Will took a step toward her, and all at once, everything happened too quickly to even make sense of it. One second he was standing three feet away from her, and in the next he had a hand on her hip and was pulling her close. Leaning in, he kissed her. His lips were soft, and he was surprisingly gentle. Maybe it was simply that he’d caught her by surprise, but even so, she found herself kissing him back. The kiss didn’t last long, and it wasn’t the kind of earthshaking, soul-destroying kiss common in movies these days; but even so, she was glad it happened, and for whatever reason, she realized it was exactly what she’d wanted him to do.

When he pulled back, Ronnie could feel the blood flood her cheeks. His expression was kind but serious, and there was absolutely nothing wishy-washy about it.

“The next time you’re mad at me, talk to me,” he said. “Don’t shut me out. I don’t like playing games. And by the way, I had a great time, too.”

Ronnie still felt a little off balance as she walked back home. Replaying their kiss a hundred times, she still wasn’t sure how it happened.

But she liked it. She liked it a lot. All of which begged the question as to why she’d simply left afterward. It felt as though they should have made plans to see each other again, but with Scott in the background staring at them with his mouth hanging open, it seemed easier to give him another quick kiss and let him get back to work. But somehow she was certain they’d see each other again, probably sooner rather than later.

He liked her. She wasn’t sure why or how it happened, but he did. The thought was amazing, and she wished Kayla were here so she could talk to her about it. She supposed she could call her, but it wouldn’t be the same, and besides, she wasn’t even sure what she would say. She supposed she just wanted someone to listen.

As she approached the house, the door to the workshop swung open. Jonah stepped out into the sunlight and headed toward the house.

“Hey, Jonah!” she called out.

“Oh, hey, Ronnie!” Jonah turned and started jogging toward her. When he got close, he seemed to study her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Do you want a cookie?”

“What?”

“A cookie. Like an Oreo. Do you want one?”

She had no idea where this was going, for the simple reason that her brother’s brain ran on tracks perpendicular, not parallel, to her own. She answered with caution. “No.”

“How can you not want a cookie?”

“I just don’t.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, waving it off. “Let’s say you did want a cookie. Let’s say you were
dying
for a cookie, and there were cookies in the cupboard. What would you do?”

“I’d eat a cookie?” she suggested.

Jonah snapped his fingers. “Exactly. That’s all I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?”

“That if people want cookies, they should get a cookie. It’s what people do.”

Aha, she thought. Now it makes sense. “Let me guess. Dad won’t let you have a cookie?”

“No. Even though I’m practically starving to death, he won’t even consider it. He says I have to have a sandwich first.”

“And you don’t think that’s fair.”

“You just said you’d get a cookie if you wanted one. So why can’t I? I’m not a little kid. I can make my own decisions.” He stared at her earnestly.

She brought a finger to her chin. “Hmm. I can see why this bothers you so much.”

“It’s not fair. If he wants a cookie, he can have one. If you want a cookie, you can have one. But if I want a cookie, the rules don’t count. Like you said, it’s not fair.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to eat a sandwich. Because I have to. Because the world isn’t fair to ten-year-olds.”

He trudged off without waiting for a response. She had to smile as she watched him go. Maybe later, she thought, she’d take him out for an ice cream. For a moment, she debated whether or not to follow him into the house, then she changed her mind and headed to the workshop. She figured it was probably time to see the window that she’d heard so much about.

From the door, she could see her dad soldering some lead together.

“Hey, sweetheart. Come on in.”

Ronnie stepped inside, really taking in the workshop for the first time. She wrinkled her nose at the weird animals on the shelves and eventually wandered to the table, where she saw the window. As far as she could tell, they still had a long way to go; it wasn’t even a quarter complete, and if the pattern was any indication, there were probably hundreds of pieces to go.

After finishing with the piece, her dad stood straighter and rolled his shoulders. “The table’s a little low for me. It gets to me after a while.”

“Do you need some Tylenol?”

“No, I’m just getting old. Tylenol can’t do much to fix that.”

She smiled before walking away from the table. Tacked to the wall, next to a newspaper article describing the fire, was a photograph of the window. She leaned in closer to get a better look before she turned to face him. “I talked to him,” she said. “I went over to the garage where he works.”

“And?”

“He likes me.”

Her dad shrugged. “He should. You’re a catch.”

Ronnie smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude. She wondered, but couldn’t quite remember, if he’d always been this nice. “Why are you making the window for the church? Because Pastor Harris is letting you stay in the house?”

“No. I would have made one anyway…” He trailed off. In the silence, Ronnie was looking at him expectantly. “It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

She nodded.

“I was maybe six or seven when I first wandered into Pastor Harris’s church. I took refuge there to get out of the rain—I mean, it was pouring and I was soaked. When I heard him playing the piano, I remember thinking that he’d tell me I couldn’t stay. But he didn’t. Instead, he brought me a blanket and a cup of soup, and he called my mom so she could come pick me up. But before she got there, he let me play the piano. I was just a little kid, banging on the keys, but… anyway, I ended up going back the next day and he eventually became my first piano teacher. He had this great love of music. He used to tell me that beautiful music was akin to angels singing, and I just got hooked. I went to the church every day and I’d play for hours beneath the original window, with this heavenly light cascading around me. That’s the image I always see when I recall the hours I spent there. This beautiful flood of light. And a few months ago, when the church burned…”

He motioned to the article on the wall. “Pastor Harris almost died that night. He was inside doing a last minute rewrite on his sermon, and he barely got out. The church… it went up in minutes and the whole place burned to the ground. Pastor Harris was in the hospital for a month, and since then he’s been holding services in an old warehouse that someone is letting him use. It’s dingy and dark, but I figured it was only temporary until he told me that the insurance covered only half the damage, and there was no way they could afford a new window. I just couldn’t imagine that. The church wouldn’t be the same place I remember, and it wouldn’t be right. So I’m going to finish it.” He cleared his throat. “I need to finish it.”

As he spoke, Ronnie found herself trying to picture her dad as a child at the church piano, her gaze flitting from him to the photograph to the partly constructed window on the table.

“You’re doing a good thing.”

“Yeah, well… we’ll see how it turns out at the end. But Jonah seems to like working on it.”

“Oh, about Jonah. He’s pretty bitter about the fact you wouldn’t let him have a cookie.”

“He needed lunch first.”

She smirked. “I’m not arguing. I just thought it was funny.”

“Did he tell you he already had two cookies today?”

“I’m afraid he didn’t mention that.”

“I figured.” He stacked his gloves on the table. “You want to have lunch with us?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”

They headed toward the door. “By the way,” he said, trying to sound casual, “am I ever going to have a chance to meet the young man who likes my daughter?”

She slid past him, into the sunlight. “Probably.”

“How about inviting him over for dinner. And maybe afterwards we can… you know, do what we used to do,” her dad said tentatively.

Ronnie thought about it. “I don’t know, Dad. It can get kind of heated.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you decide, okay?”

18

W
ill

C
’mon, man. You’ve got to keep your head in the game. If you do that, we’ll crush Landry and Tyson in the tournament.”

Will tossed the ball from one hand to the other as he and Scott stood in the sand, still sweating from the final volleys. It was late afternoon. They’d finished up at the garage at three and had raced over to the beach for a scrimmage against a couple of teams from Georgia that were spending the week in the area. They were all preparing for the southeastern tournament later that August, which was going to be held at Wrightsville Beach.

“They haven’t lost yet this year. And they just won the junior nationals,” Will pointed out.

“So? We weren’t there. They beat a bunch of scrubs.”

In Will’s humble opinion, the competition at the junior national tournament weren’t scrubs. In Scott’s world, however, anyone who lost was a scrub.

“They beat us last year.”

“Yes, but last year you were even worse than you are now. I had to carry the entire load.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just saying. You’re inconsistent. Like yesterday? After that chick from the Lost Boys stormed off? You played the rest of the game like you were blind.”

“She’s not the chick from the Lost Boys. Her name is Ronnie.”

“Whatever. Do you know what your problem is?”

Yes, Scott, please tell me my problem, Will thought. I’m dying to hear what you think. Scott went on, oblivious to Will’s thoughts.

“Your problem is that you’re not
focused.
One little thing happens, and you’re off in never-never land. Oh, I spilled Elvira’s soda on her, so I’ll miss the next five digs. Oh, Vampira got mad at Ashley, so I better miss the next two serves—”

“Would you stop?” Will interrupted.

Scott seemed confused. “Stop what?”

“Stop calling her names.”

“See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about! I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about you and your lack of
focus.
Your inability to concentrate on the game.”

“We just won two straight sets, and they only scored seven points total! We crushed them,” Will protested.

“But they shouldn’t have even had five points. We should have shut them out.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. They’re not very good.”

“But we won! Isn’t that enough?”

“Not if you could win by more. We could have broken their spirit, so that when they meet us in the tournament, they’d give up before the game even starts. It’s called psychology.”

“I think it’s called running the score up.”

“Well, that’s just because you’re not thinking straight, or you never would have ended up mashing faces with Cruella de Vil.”

Elvira, Vampira, and now Cruella. At least, Will thought, he wasn’t recycling any material.

“I think you’re jealous,” Will said.

“No. Personally, I think you should go out with Ashley, so I can go out with Cassie.”

“You’re still thinking about that?”

“Hello? Who else would I be thinking about? You should have seen her in her bikini yesterday.”

“So ask her out.”

“She won’t go.” Scott frowned in consternation. “It’s like a package deal or something. I don’t understand it.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re ugly.”

Scott glared at him before forcing out a fake laugh. “Ha-ha! That is so funny. You should really try booking yourself on
Letterman.
” His glare remained fixed on Will.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t, okay? And what is it with you and…”

“Ronnie?”

“Yeah. What was that about? Yesterday, you spent your whole day off with her, and then she shows up this morning and you kiss her? Are you, like… serious about her or something?”

Will remained silent.

Scott shook his head as he raised a finger, emphasizing his point. “See, here’s the thing. The last thing you need is to get serious with a girl. You need to concentrate on what’s important. You’ve got a full-time job, you volunteer trying to save the dolphins or whales or turtles or whatever, and you know how much we have to practice to get ready for the tournament. You don’t have enough time as it is!”

Will said nothing, but he could see Scott growing more panicked with every passing second.

“Ah, come on, man! Don’t do this to me. What on earth do you see in her?”

Will said nothing.

“No, no, no,” Scott repeated like a mantra. “I knew this was going to happen. That’s why I told you to go out with Ashley! So you wouldn’t get serious again. You know what’s going to happen. You’re going to turn into a hermit. You’re going to blow off your friends so you can hang out with her. Trust me, the last thing you need is to get serious with…”

“Ronnie,” Will filled in.

“Whatever,” Scott snapped. “You’re missing the point.”

Will smiled. “Did you ever realize you have more opinions about my life than your own life?”

“That’s because I don’t mess things up like you do.”

Will gave an involuntary twitch, flashing back to the night of the fire and wondering if Scott was really so clueless.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Will said, but he realized that Scott wasn’t listening. Instead, his gaze was focused over Will’s shoulder, on a spot down the beach.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Scott mumbled.

Will turned around and saw Ronnie approaching. In jeans and a dark T-shirt, of course, looking as out of place as a crocodile in Antarctica. A huge grin spread over his face.

He started toward her, drinking in the sight of her, wondering again what she was thinking. He loved the fact that he couldn’t completely figure her out.

“Hey,” he said, reaching for her.

She stopped, just out of reach. Her expression was serious. “Don’t kiss me. Just listen, okay?”

Sitting beside him in the truck, Ronnie remained as enigmatic as ever. She stared out the window, smiling faintly, seemingly content to watch the scenery.

Ronnie brought her hands together in her lap. “I want you to know my dad won’t care that you’re wearing shorts and a tank top.”

“It’s only going to take a few minutes.”

“But it’s supposed to be a casual dinner.”

“I’m hot and sweaty. I’m not going to come to your house for dinner with your dad dressed like a bum.”

“But I just said he won’t care.”

“I care, though. Unlike some people, I like to make a good impression.”

Ronnie bristled. “Are you saying I don’t?”

“Of course not. For instance, everyone I know loves to meet people with purple hair.”

Though she knew he was teasing, her eyes widened and then narrowed suddenly. “You don’t seem to have a problem with it.”

“Yes, but that’s because I’m special.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him. “Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Like what?”

“Like someone with no shot of ever, ever kissing me again?”

He laughed and turned toward her. “I apologize. I didn’t mean it. And actually, I like the purple streaks. It’s… who you are.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll just have to learn to be more careful with what you say next time.” As she spoke, she opened his glove compartment and began sifting through it.

“What are you doing?”

“Just looking. Why? Are you hiding something?”

“Feel free to sort through all of it. And while you’re at it, maybe you could straighten it up a bit.”

She pulled out a bullet and held it up so he could see. “I suppose this is what you use to kill ducks, right?”

“No, that’s for deer. It’s too big for a duck. The duck would be shredded to pieces if I shot it with that.”

“You have serious problems, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

She giggled before settling into silence. They were on the intracoastal side of the island, and between the ever-growing sprawl of houses, the sun was glinting off the water. She closed the glove compartment and lowered the visor. Noticing a photograph of a lovely blonde, she pulled it out and examined it.

“She’s pretty,” Ronnie commented.

“Yeah, she is.”

“Ten bucks says you posted this on your Facebook page.”

“You lose. That’s my sister.”

He watched as her gaze flickered from the photo to his wrist, eyeing the macramé wristband.

“What’s with the matching bracelets?” she asked.

“My sister and I make them.”

“To support a worthy cause, no doubt.”

“No,” he said, and when he said nothing else, he was impressed that she seemed to intuit that he didn’t want to say anything more. Instead, she carefully tucked the photo back in place and lifted the visor again.

“How far away do you live?” Ronnie asked.

“We’re almost there,” Will assured her.

“If I’d known it was this far away, I would have walked home. Since we’re heading farther and farther away from my house, I mean.”

“But you would have missed my scintillating conversation.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Do you plan on insulting me some more?” He glanced at her. “I just need to know whether or not to turn up the music so I don’t have to hear it.”

“You know you shouldn’t have kissed me earlier. It wasn’t exactly romantic,” Ronnie shot back.

“I thought it was very romantic.”

“We were in a garage, you had grease on your hands, and your buddy was gawking.”

“A perfect setting,” he said.

As he slowed the car, he flipped down his visor. Then, after making a turn, he came to a stop as he pressed the remote. Two wrought-iron gates slowly slid open, and the truck rolled forward again. Excited at the prospect of having dinner with Ronnie’s family later that evening, Will didn’t seem to notice that Ronnie had gone quiet.