Because her dad's piano had yet to be shipped back to the apartment, she took the subway to Juilliard and practiced there. She'd called on her first day back in New York and had spoken to the director. He'd been good friends with her dad and had apologized for missing the funeral. He sounded surprised--and yes, excited, she thought--to hear from her. When she told him that she was reconsidering applying to Juilliard, he arranged for an accelerated audition schedule and even helped expedite her application.
Only three weeks after arriving back in New York, she'd opened her audition with the song she'd composed with her dad. She was a little rusty in her classical technique--three weeks wasn't much time to prepare for a high-level audition--but as she left the auditorium, she thought her dad would have been proud of her. Then again, she thought with a smile as she tucked his beloved score under her arm, he always had been.
Since the audition, she'd been playing three or four hours a day. The director had arranged to let her use the school's practice rooms, and she was beginning to tinker with some fledgling compositions. She thought of her dad often while sitting in the practice rooms, the same rooms that he had once sat in. Occasionally, when the sun was setting, the rays would slice between the buildings around her, throwing long bars of light on the floor. And always when she saw the light, she would think back to his window at the church and the cascade of light she'd seen at the funeral.
She thought constantly about Will, of course.
Mostly, she dwelled on memories of their summer rather than their brief encounter outside the church. She hadn't heard from him since the funeral, and as Christmas came and went, she began to lose hope that he would call. She remembered that he'd said something about spending the holidays overseas, but as each day elapsed without word from him, she vacillated between the certainty that he still loved her and the hopelessness of their situation. Perhaps it was best that he didn't call, she told herself, for what was there really to say?
She smiled sadly, forcing herself to push such thoughts away. She had work to do, and as she turned her attention to her latest project, a song with country-western and pop influences, she reminded herself that it was time to look ahead, not back. She might or might not be admitted to Juilliard, even if the director had told her that the status of her application looked "very promising." No matter what happened, she knew that her future lay in music, and one way or another, she would find her way back to that passion.
On top of the piano, her phone suddenly began to vibrate. Reaching for it, she assumed it was her mom before glancing at the screen. Freezing, she stared at it as it vibrated a second time. Taking a deep breath, she opened it up and placed it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hi," said a familiar voice. "It's Will."
She tried to imagine where he was calling from. There seemed to be a cavernous echo behind him, reminiscent of an airport.
"Did you just get off a plane?" she asked.
"No. I got back a few days ago. Why?"
"You just sound funny," she said, feeling her heart sink just a bit. He'd been home for days; only now was he getting around to calling. "How was Europe?"
"It was a lot of fun, actually. My mom and I got along a lot better than I expected. How's Jonah doing?"
"He's okay. He's getting better, but... it's still hard."
"I'm sorry," he said, and again she heard that echoing sound. Maybe he was on the back veranda of his house. "What else is going on?"
"I auditioned at Juilliard, and I think it went really well..."
"I know," he said.
"How do you know?"
"Why else would you be there?"
She tried to make sense of his response. "Well, no... they've just been letting me practice here until my dad's piano arrives--because of my dad's history at the school and everything. The director was a good friend of his."
"I hope you're not too busy practicing to take time off."
"What are you talking about?"
"I was hoping you were free to go out this weekend. If you don't have any plans, I mean."
She felt her heart leap in her chest. "You're coming to New York?"
"I'm staying with Megan. You know, checking out how the newlyweds are doing."
"When are you getting in?"
"Let's see..." She could almost see him squinting at his watch. "I landed a little more than an hour ago."
"You're here? Where are you?"
It took him a moment to respond, and when she heard his voice again, she realized it wasn't coming from the phone. It was coming from behind her. Turning, she saw him in the doorway, holding his phone.
"Sorry," he said. "I couldn't resist."
Even though he was here, she couldn't quite process it. She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again.
Yep, still there. Amazing.
"Why didn't you call to let me know you were coming?"
"Because I wanted to surprise you."
You certainly did, was all she could think. Dressed in jeans and a dark blue V-neck sweater, he was as handsome as she remembered.
"Besides," he announced, "there's something important I have to tell you."
"What's that?" she answered.
"Before I tell you, I want to know if we have a date."
"What?"
"This weekend, remember? Are we on?"
She smiled. "Yeah, we're on."
He nodded. "How about the weekend after that?"
For the first time, she hesitated. "How long are you staying?"
He slowly started toward her. "Well... that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you remember when I said that Vanderbilt wasn't my first choice? That I really wanted to go to this school with an amazing environmental science program?"
"I remember."
"Well, the school doesn't normally allow midyear transfers, but my mom's on the board of trustees at Vanderbilt and she happened to know some people at this other university and was able to pull some strings. Anyway, I found out while I was in Europe that I'd been accepted, so I'm going to transfer. I start there next semester and thought you might want to know."
"Well... good for you," she said uncertainly. "Where are you going to go?"
"Columbia."
For an instant, she wasn't sure she'd heard him right. "You mean Columbia as in New York Columbia?"
He grinned as if he'd pulled a rabbit out of his hat. "That's the one."
"Really?" Her voice came out as a squeak.
He nodded. "I start in a couple of weeks. Can you imagine that? A nice southern boy like me stuck in the big city? I'm probably going to need someone to help me get adjusted, and I was hoping it might be you. If you're okay with that."
By then, he was close enough to reach for the loops on her jeans. When he pulled her toward him, she felt everything around her fall away. Will was going to go to school here. In New York. With her.
And with that, she slipped her arms around him, feeling his body fit perfectly against her own, knowing that nothing could ever be better than this moment, right now. "I guess I'm okay with that. But it's not going to be easy for you. They don't have a lot of fishing or mudding around here."
His arms moved around her waist. "I figured."
"And not a lot of beach volleyball, either. Especially in January."
"I guess I'll have to make some sacrifices."
"Maybe if you're lucky, we can find you some other ways to occupy your time."
Leaning in, he kissed her gently, first on her cheek and then on her lips. When he met her eyes, she saw the young man she'd loved last summer and the young man she still loved now.
"I never stopped loving you, Ronnie. And I never stopped thinking about you. Even if summers do come to an end."
She smiled, knowing he was telling the truth.
"I love you, too, Will Blakelee," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.