Nicholas Sparks - The Last Song

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.