Nicholas Sparks - The Last Song

“So what?” she demanded. “That doesn’t mean anything! Didn’t you hear me when I told you about admitting in court what I had done? Because I knew what I did was wrong! Truth only means something when it’s hard to admit! Don’t you get that? That church was Pastor Harris’s life! It was my dad’s life! And now it’s gone and the insurance won’t cover the damage and they have to hold services in a warehouse…”

“Scott’s my friend,” he protested. “I can’t just… throw him to the wolves.”

She blinked, wondering if he could even hear what he was saying. “How can you be so selfish?”

“I’m not being selfish-”

“That’s exactly what you are, and if you can’t understand that, then I don’t want to talk to you!” she said. She turned and started toward the house. “Just go! Leave!”

“Ronnie!” he called out, getting up to follow her. She sensed his movement and whirled to face him.

“It’s over, okay?”

“It’s not over. C’mon, be reasonable…”

“Reasonable?” She waved her hands. “You want me to be reasonable? You haven’t just been lying for Scott, you’ve been lying to me, too! You knew why my dad was making the window! You stood right next to me and you never said anything about it!” Her words seemed to clarify something in her mind, and she took another step backward. “You’re not who I thought you were! I thought you were better than this!”

He flinched, unable to think of a response, but when he took a step forward, she retreated.

“Go! You’re leaving anyway, and we’re never going to see each other again. Summers always come to an end. We can talk and pretend all we want, but we can’t change that, so let’s just end it here and now. I can’t handle all this right now, and I can’t be with someone I don’t trust.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I don’t trust you, Will. You need to go.”

He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

“Leave!” she shouted, and ran back to the house.

That night, his last night in Wrightsville Beach, Will sat in the den, still trying to make sense of everything that had happened. He looked up when his dad walked in.

“You okay?” Tom asked. “You were kind of quiet at dinner.”

“Yeah,” Will answered. “I’m okay.”

His dad wandered to the couch and took a seat across from him. “Are you nervous about leaving tomorrow?”

Will shook his head. “No.”

“Are you all packed?”

Will nodded and felt his dad studying him. His dad leaned forward.

“What’s going on? You know you can talk to me.”

Will took his time before answering, suddenly nervous. Finally, he met his father’s eyes. “If I asked you to do something important for me, something big, would you do it? No questions asked?”

Tom leaned back, still studying him, and in the silence, Will knew what the answer would be.

You really finished the window?”

Ronnie watched her dad as he talked to Jonah in the hospital room, thinking he seemed better. He still looked tired, but his cheeks had a bit more color and he was moving with greater ease.

“It’s awesome, Dad,” Jonah said. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“But there were still so many pieces left.”

“Ronnie and Will helped a little,” Jonah admitted.

“Yeah?”

“I had to show them how. They didn’t know anything. But don’t worry, I was patient even when they made mistakes.”

Her dad smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah, I’m a pretty good teacher.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Jonah wrinkled his nose. “It smells kinda funny in here, doesn’t it?”

“A little.”

Jonah nodded. “I thought so.” He motioned toward the television. “Have you been watching any movies?”

Her dad shook his head. “Not too many.”

“What does that do?”

Her dad glanced at the IV bag. “It’s got some medicine in it.”

“Will it make you better?”

“I’m feeling better now.”

“So you’re coming home?”

“Pretty soon.”

“Today?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “But you know what I could use?”

“What?”

“A soda. Do you remember where the cafeteria is? Down the hall and around the corner?”

“I know where it is. I’m not a little kid. What kind do you want?”

“A Sprite or a Seven-Up.”

“I don’t have any money, though.”

When her dad glanced at her, Ronnie took it as a cue to reach into her back pocket. “I’ve got some,” she said. She pulled what she thought he’d need from her pocket and handed it to him as he headed out the door. As soon as he was gone, she could feel her dad staring at her.

“The lawyer called this morning. They’ve postponed your court date until late October.”

Ronnie’s gaze flickered to the window. “I can’t think about that right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He was quiet for a moment, and she could feel him watching her. “How’s Jonah really holding up?” he asked.

Ronnie gave a half shrug. “Lost. Confused. Scared. Barely holding it together.” Like me, she wanted to say.

Her dad motioned for her to come over. She took a seat in the chair that Jonah had been using. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay out of the hospital. I never wanted you to see me like this.”

She was already shaking her head. “Never, ever apologize for that.”

“But-”

“No buts, okay? I needed to know. I’m glad I know.”

He seemed to accept that. But then he surprised her.

“Do you want to talk about what happened with Will?”

“What makes you say something like that?” she asked.

“Because I know you. Because I know when something else is on your mind. And because I know how much you cared for him.”

Ronnie sat up straighter, not wanting to lie to him. “He went home to pack,” she said.

She could feel her dad studying her.

“Did I ever tell you my dad was a poker player?”

“Yeah, you told me. Why? Do you want to play poker?”

“No,” he said. “I just know there’s more to what happened with Will than what you’re saying, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, too.”

Ronnie hesitated. She knew he’d be understanding, but she wasn’t ready yet. “Like I said, he’s leaving,” she said instead. And with a nod, her dad let it go.

“You look tired,” he said. “You should go home and take a nap later.”

“I will. But I want to stay here for a while.”

He adjusted his hand in hers. “Okay.”

She glanced at the IV bag Jonah had asked about before. But unlike her brother, she knew that it wasn’t medicine to make him better.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

He paused before answering. “No,” he answered. “Not too much.”

“But it has hurt?”

Her dad started to shake his head. “Sweetheart…”

“I want to know. Did it hurt before you got here? Tell me the truth, okay?”

He scratched at his chest before answering. “Yes.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know what you mean-”

“I want to know when it started hurting,” Ronnie said, leaning over the bedrail. She willed him to meet her eyes.

Again, he shook his head. “It’s not important. I’m feeling better. And the doctors know what to do to keep helping me.”

“Please,” she said. “When did it start hurting?”

He looked down at their hands, clasped so tightly on the bed. “I don’t know. March or April? But it wasn’t every day-”

“When it hurt before,” she went on, determined to hear the truth, “what did you do?”