The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks | Page 9

could have stayed part of their
lives.”
Her words stung him, and he knew she was right. But it hadn’t been that simple, for reasons
they both understood, though neith er would acknowledge them.
The charged silence passed when Steve eventual ly cleared his throat. “I was just trying to
say that Ronnie knows right from wrong. As much as she asserts her independence, I still believe
she’s the same person she always was. In the wa ys that really matter, she hasn’t changed.”
Before Kim could figure out how or if she should respond to his comment, Jonah burst
through the front door, his cheeks flushed. “Dad! I found a really cool works hop! C’mon! I want to show you!”
Kim raised an eyebrow.
“It’s out back,” Steve sai d. “Do you want to see it?”
“It’s awesome, Mom!”
Kim turned from Steve to Jonah and back ag ain. “No, that’s okay,” she said. “That sounds
like more of a father and son thing. And besides, I should really be going.”
“Already?” Jonah asked.
Steve knew how hard this was go ing to be for Kim, and he answered for her. “Your mom
has a long drive back. And besides, I wanted to take you to the carnival tonight. Could we do
that instead?” Steve watched Jonah’s shoul ders sink a fraction.
“I guess that’s okay,” he said.
After Jonah said good-bye to his mom—with Ronni e still nowhere in sight and, according to
Kim, unlikely to return soon—Steve and Jonah strolled over to the workshop, a leaning, tin-
roofed outbuilding that had come with the property.
For the last three months, Steve had spent most afternoons here, surrounded by assorted
junk and small sheets of stained glass that Jonah was now exploring. In the center of the

workshop was a large worktable with the beginnings of a stained-glass window, but Jonah
seemed far more interested in the weird taxide rmy pieces perched on the shelves, the previous
owner’s specialty. It was hard not to be mesmeri zed by the half-squirrel/half-bass creature or the
opossum’s head grafted onto the body of a chicken. “What is this stuff?” Jonah asked.
“It’s supposed to be art.”
“I thought art was like paintings and stuff.”
“It is. But sometimes art is other things, too.”
Jonah wrinkled his nose, stari ng at the half-rabbit/half-snake. “It doesn’t look like art.”
When Steve smiled, Jonah motioned to the st ained-glass window on the worktable. “Was
this his, too?” he asked. “Actually, that’s mine. I’m making it for the chur ch down the street. It burned last year, and
the original window was de stroyed in the fire.”
“I didn’t know you could make windows.”
“Believe it or not, the artist who used to live here taught me how.”
“The guy who did the animals?”
“The same one.”
“And you knew him?”
Steve joined his son at the table. “When I was a kid, I’d sneak over here when I was
supposed to be in Bible study. He made the st ained-glass windows for most of the churches
around here. See the picture on the wall?” Steve pointed to a small photograph of the Risen
Christ tacked to one of the shelves, easy to miss in the chaos. “Hopefully, it’ll look just like that
when it’s finished.” “Awesome,” Jonah said, and Steve smiled. It was obviously Jonah’s new favorite word, and
he wondered how many times he ’d hear it this summer.
“Do you want to help?”
“Can I?”
“I was counting on it.” Steve gave him a gentle nudge. “I need a good assistant.”
“Is it hard?”
“I was your age when I started, so I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”
Jonah gingerly picked up a piece of the glass and examined it, holding it up to the light, his
expression serious. “I’m pretty sure I can handle it, too.”
Steve smiled. “Are you still goi ng to church?” he asked.
“Yeah. But it’s not the same one we went to. It’s the one where Brian likes to go. And
Ronnie doesn’t always come with us. She locks herself in her room and refuses to come out, but
as soon as we leave, she goes over to Starbucks to hang out with her friends. It makes Mom
furious.” “That happens when kids become teen agers. They test their parents.”
Jonah put the glass back on the table. “I won’ t,” he said. “I’m always going to be good. But
I don’t like the new church very much. It’s boring. So I might not