The Last Song

"Jonah's finally asleep," he said. "But I don't think he really understands what's happening. He told me he's pretty sure the doctor will make his dad all better, and he kept asking when his dad could come home."

She remembered his cries from the hospital room, and all she could do was nod. Will slipped his arms around her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"How do you think I'm doing? I just found out my father is dying and that he probably won't live to see Christmas."

"I know," he said gently. "And I'm sorry. I know how hard this is for you." She could feel his hands on her waist. "I'll stay tonight so if anything happens and you have to go, someone can be with Jonah. I can stay around here as long as you need me to. I know I'm supposed to be leaving in a couple of days, but I can call the dean's office and explain what's happening. Classes don't start until next week."

"You can't fix this," she said. Though she could hear the sharpness in her tone, she couldn't help it. "Don't you get that?"

"I'm not trying to fix it--"

"Yes, you are! But you can't!" Her heart suddenly felt as if it were going to explode. "And you can't understand what I'm going through, either!"

"I've lost someone, too," he reminded her.

"It's not the same!" She squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to stifle her tears. "I was so mean to him. I quit the piano! I blamed him for everything, and I didn't say more than a few words to him for three years! Three years! And I can't get those years back. But maybe if I hadn't been so angry, he might not have gotten sick. Maybe I caused that extra... stress that did all this. Maybe it was me!" She pulled away from Will.

"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 wou

ld 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 macrame 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.