The Last Song (22 page)

It would have been nice if he’d been able to spot an obvious sign of His presence—a burning bush, perhaps—but he tried instead
to focus on the world around him: the sun risen out of the sea, the trill of morning birdsong, the lingering mist atop the
water. He strove to absorb the beauty without conscious thought, trying to feel the sand beneath his feet and the breeze as
it caressed his cheek. Despite his efforts, he didn’t know if he was getting any closer to his answer than when he’d started.

What was it, he wondered for the hundredth time, that enabled Pastor Harris to hear the answers in his heart? What did he
mean when he said he felt God’s presence? Steve supposed he could ask Pastor Harris directly, but he doubted that would do
any good. How could anyone explain such a thing? It would be like describing colors to someone blind from birth: The words
might be understood, but the concept would remain mysterious and private.

It was odd for him to think such thoughts. Until recently, he’d never been plagued by such questions, but he figured his daily
responsibilities had always kept him busy enough to avoid thinking about them, at least until he’d returned to Wrightsville
Beach. Here, time had slowed with the pace of his life. As he continued to walk the beach, he reflected again on the fateful
decision he’d made to try his luck as a concert pianist. It’s true that he’d always wondered whether he could succeed, and
yes, he had felt that time was running out. But how had those thoughts acquired such urgency at the time? Why had he been
so willing to leave his family for months at a time? How, he wondered, could he have been so selfish? In retrospect, it hadn’t
proved to be a wise decision for any of them. He’d once thought that his passion for music had forced the decision, but he
now suspected that he’d really been searching for ways to fill the emptiness he sometimes felt inside him.

And as he walked, he began to wonder whether it was in this realization that he would eventually find his answer.

R
onnie

W
hen Ronnie woke, she glanced at the clock, relieved that for the first time since she’d arrived, she’d managed to sleep in.
It wasn’t late, but as she climbed out of bed, she actually felt somewhat refreshed. She could hear the television in the
living room, and leaving the bedroom, she immediately spotted Jonah. He was lying on the couch on his back, his head dangling
off the cushion as he stared intently at the screen. His neck, exposed as if in preparation for the guillotine, was sprinkled
with Pop-Tarts crumbs. She watched as he took another bite, scattering more crumbs on himself and the rug.

She didn’t want to ask. She knew the answer wouldn’t make sense, but she couldn’t help it.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching TV upside down,” he answered. He was watching one of those irritating Japanese cartoons with big-eyed creatures
that she never did understand.

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“And again I ask, why?”

“I don’t know.”

She knew she shouldn’t have asked. Instead, she glanced toward the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know where Dad is?”

“I’m not his babysitter.” He sounded annoyed.

“When did he leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was he here when you got up?”

“Uh-huh.” His gaze never wavered from the TV. “We talked about the window.”

“And then…”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you saying he just vanished into thin air?”

“No. I’m saying that after that, Pastor Harris came by and they went outside to talk.” He made it sound as though the answer
were obvious.

“Then why didn’t you say that?” Ronnie threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Because I’m trying to watch my show while I’m
upside down
. It’s not easy to talk to you with the blood rushing to my head.”

He’d set himself up for any number of snappy comebacks—
Maybe you should be upside down more often, then,
for instance—but she didn’t give in to temptation. Because she was in a better mood. Because she’d slept in. And best of
all, because she heard a little voice inside her whisper,
You might be going home today
. No more Blaze, no more Marcus or Ashley, no more early mornings.

No more Will, either…

The thought gave her pause. All in all, he hadn’t been so bad. Actually, she’d had a good time with him yesterday, up until
the end, anyway. She really should have told him what Ashley had said; she should have explained herself. But with Marcus
showing up…

She really, really wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.

Pulling aside the curtains, she peeked out the window. Her dad and Pastor Harris were standing in the driveway, and she realized
she hadn’t seen the pastor since she was a little girl. He’d changed little since then; though he now leaned on a cane, the
thick white hair and eyebrows were as memorable as ever. She smiled, remembering how nice he’d been after her grandfather’s
funeral. She knew why her dad liked him so much; there was something infinitely kind about him, and she recalled that after
the service, he’d offered her a glass of fresh lemonade that was sweeter than any soda. They seemed to be talking to someone
else in the drive, someone she couldn’t see. She walked to the door and opened it to get a better view. It took only an instant
to recognize the squad car. Officer Pete Johnson was standing just inside the open front car door, plainly getting ready to
leave.

She could hear the engine idling, and as she descended the porch steps, her dad offered a tentative wave. Pete swung the door
shut, leaving Ronnie with a sinking feeling.

When she reached her dad and Pastor Harris, Officer Pete was already backing out of the drive, which only confirmed her sense
that bad news was coming.

“You’re up,” her dad said. “I just checked in on you a little while ago and you were dead to the world.” He motioned with
his thumb. “Do you remember Pastor Harris?”

Ronnie offered her hand. “I remember. Hi again. It’s good to see you.”

When Pastor Harris took it, she noticed the shiny scars covering his hands and arms. “I can’t believe this is the same young
lady I had the good fortune of meeting so long ago. You’re all grown up now.” He smiled. “You look like your mother.”

She’d heard that a lot lately, but she still wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did it mean she looked old? Or that her mom looked
young? It was hard to tell, but she knew he meant it as a compliment. “Thank you. How’s Mrs. Harris doing?”

He adjusted his cane. “She’s keeping me in line, just like she always has. And I’m sure she’d love to see you as well. If
you find a chance to swing by the house, I’ll make sure she has a jar of homemade lemonade for you.”

It figured that he’d remember. “I might just take you up on that.”

“I hope so.” He turned to Steve. “Thank you again for offering to make the window. It’s coming along beautifully.”

He waved off the thanks. “You don’t have to thank me…”

“Of course I do. But I really have to be going. I’ve got the Towson sisters leading Bible study this morning, and if you knew
them, you’d understand why it’s imperative that I don’t leave them to their own devices. They’re quite the fire-and-brimstone
types. They love Daniel and Revelation, and seem to forget that Second Corinthians is even a chapter in the good book.” He
turned to Ronnie. “It was wonderful to see you again, young lady. I hope your father isn’t causing you too much trouble these
days. You know how parents can be.”

She smiled. “He’s okay.”

“Good. But if he causes you any trouble, you come talk to me, and I’ll do my best to set him straight. He was quite the mischievous
child at times, so I can only imagine how frustrated you must get.”

“I wasn’t mischievous,” her dad protested. “All I did was play the piano.”

“Remind me to tell you about the time he put red dye in the baptismal well.”

Her dad seemed mortified. “I never did that!”

Pastor Harris seemed to be enjoying himself. “Maybe not, but my point stands. No matter how he presents himself, your dad
wasn’t perfect.”

With that, he turned and started up the drive. Ronnie watched him go, amused. Anyone who could make her dad squirm—in a harmless
way, of course—was someone she definitely wanted to get to know a little better. Especially if he had stories to tell about
her dad. Fun stories.
Good
stories.

Her dad’s expression as he watched him go was inscrutable. When he turned back to her, however, he seemed to have reverted
to the dad she knew, and she remembered again that Officer Pete had been here only a couple of minutes earlier.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “With Officer Pete.”

“Why don’t we have breakfast first? I’m sure you’re probably starved. You barely had any dinner.”

She reached for his arms. “Just tell me, Dad.”

Her dad hesitated, struggling to find the right words, but there was no way he could candy-coat the truth. He sighed. “You’re
not going to be able to go back to New York, at least until you’re arraigned next week. The store’s owner intends to press
charges.”

Ronnie sat on the dune, less angry than frightened at the thought of what was happening inside the house. It had been an hour
since her dad had told her what Officer Pete had said, and she’d been sitting out here ever since. She knew her dad was inside
talking to her mom on the phone, and Ronnie could only imagine how her mom was reacting. It was the only good thing about
being here at all.

Except for Will…

Ronnie shook her head, wondering why on earth she kept thinking about him. They were already over, assuming that they had
ever really begun. Why had he been interested in her? He’d been together with Ashley for a long time, which meant he liked
her type. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that people didn’t change. They liked what they liked, even if they
didn’t understand why. And she was nothing like Ashley.

No discussion, no debate. Because if she was like Ashley, she might as well just start swimming toward the horizon until all
hope of rescue was gone. She might as well end it now.

Still, that wasn’t what bothered her most. What bothered her was her mom. Her mom was no doubt hearing about the arrest, since
her dad was on the phone
right now.
The idea made her cringe. Her mom was blowing a gasket, no doubt
screaming.
As soon as she hung up with Dad, she would probably call her sister or her own mom and spread the news about the latest horrible
thing Ronnie had done. She was into rehashing all sorts of personal stuff, usually with just enough exaggeration to make Ronnie
seem as guilty as possible. Her mom always neglected the nuances, of course. In this case, the most important nuance was that
she hadn’t done it!

But did that matter? Of course not. She could
feel
her mom’s rage, and the whole thing made her sick to her stomach. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t going home today.

Behind her, she heard her dad approach. When she glanced over her shoulder, he hesitated. She knew he was trying to figure
out whether she wanted to be alone, before he gingerly took a seat beside her. He didn’t say anything right away. Instead,
he seemed to be watching a distant shrimp trawler anchored near the horizon.

“Was she mad?”

She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t help asking.

“A little,” he admitted.

“Just a little?”

“I’m pretty sure she Godzilla’d the kitchen while we were talking.”

Ronnie closed her eyes, imagining the scene. “Did you tell her what really happened?”

“Of course I did. And I made sure to tell her that I was certain you were telling the truth.” He put an arm around her shoulder
and gave her a hug. “She’ll get over it. She always does.”

Ronnie nodded. In the silence, she could feel her dad studying her.

“I’m sorry you can’t go home today,” he said. His tone was soft and apologetic. “I know how much you hate it here.”

“I don’t hate it here,” she said automatically. Surprising herself, she realized that as much as she’d been trying to convince
herself otherwise, she was telling the truth. “It’s just that I don’t belong here.”

He gave her a melancholy smile. “If it’s any consolation, when I was growing up, I didn’t feel like I belonged here, either.
I dreamed about going to New York. But it’s strange, because when I finally escaped this place, I ended up missing it more
than I thought I would. There’s something about the ocean that just calls to me.”

She turned toward him. “What’s going to happen to me? Did Officer Pete say anything more?”

“No. Just that the owner feels like she has to press charges, since the items were valuable and she’s had a lot of problems
with shoplifting lately.”

“But I didn’t do it!” Ronnie cried.

“I know,” he said, “and we’ll work it out. We’ll find a good lawyer and take it from there.”

“Are lawyers expensive?”