Nicholas Sparks - The Last Song

He reached for the hook and began to pry it out. “I’m trying! Just give me a second!”

“It’s bleeding! You hurt it!” She danced around him frantically.

Ignoring her, he began to work the hook out. He could feel the tail moving back and forth, flopping against the back of his hand. It was small, maybe three or four pounds, but surprisingly strong.

“You’re taking too long!” Ronnie fretted.

He carefully freed the hook but held the fish pinned against the dock. “You sure you don’t want to bring it home for dinner? You should be able to get a couple of fillets out of it.”

Her mouth opened and closed in disbelief, but before she could say anything, Will tossed the fish back into the water. With a splash, it dove and vanished. Will reached for a hand towel and wiped the blood from his fingers.

Ronnie continued to stare at him accusingly, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “You would have eaten it, wouldn’t you? If I weren’t here?”

“I would have thrown it back.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re probably right.” He smiled at her before reaching for the rod. “Now, do you want to bait the next hook or should I?”

“So Mom’s been going crazy trying to plan my sister’s wedding and make the whole thing perfect,” Will said. “It’s been a little… tense at the house.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“August ninth. It doesn’t help matters that my sister wants to have it at our house. Which, of course, only adds to my mom’s stress.”

Ronnie smiled. “What’s your sister like?”

“Smart. Lives in New York. A bit of a free spirit. Pretty much like another older sister I know.”

That seemed to please her. As they strolled the beach, the sun was setting and Will could tell that Ronnie was feeling more relaxed. They’d ended up catching and releasing three more fish before he drove her to downtown Wilmington, where they’d enjoyed lunch on a deck that overlooked the Cape Fear River. Drawing her eyes to a spot on the opposite bank, he’d pointed out the USS North Carolina, a decommissioned battleship from World War II. Watching Ronnie inspect it, Will was struck by how easy it was to spend time with her. Unlike other girls he knew, she said what she meant and didn’t play stupid games. She had a quirky sense of humor that he liked, even when it was directed at him. In fact, he liked everything about her.

As they approached her house, Ronnie ran ahead to check on the nest tucked into the base of the dune. She paused at the cage-it was made of chicken wire and secured into the sandy dune by extralong stakes-and when he joined her at the dune, she turned to him doubtfully.

“This is going to keep the raccoon away?”

“That’s what they say.”

She studied it. “How do the turtles get out? They can’t fit through the holes, can they?”

Will shook his head. “The aquarium volunteers remove the cage before the eggs hatch.”

“How do they know when they’ll hatch?”

“They’ve got it down to a science. The eggs take around sixty days to incubate before they hatch, but that can vary slightly depending on the weather. The hotter the temperature is all summer, the quicker they’ll hatch. And keep in mind that this isn’t the only nest on the beach, and it wasn’t the first one, either. Once the first nest clears, the others usually follow within a week or so.”

“Have you ever seen a nest hatch?”

He nodded. “Four times.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s a little crazy, actually. As the time approaches, we remove the cages, and then we dig a shallow trench from the nest to the water’s edge, making it as smooth as possible, but high enough on the sides so the turtles can only go in one direction. And it’s weird, because at first only a couple of eggs are moving, but it’s like their movement is enough to set the whole nest going, and before you know it, the nest is like a crazy beehive on steroids. The turtles are climbing over each other to get out of the hole, and then they hit the sand and head toward the water in this little crablike parade. It’s amazing.”

As he described it, he got the sense Ronnie was trying to picture the scene. Then she noticed her dad stepping onto the back porch, and she waved.

Will motioned to the house. “I take it that’s your dad?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“Don’t you want to introduce me?”

“Nope.”

“I promise to have good manners.”

“That’d be good.”

“So why won’t you introduce me?”

“Because you haven’t taken me to meet your parents yet.”

“Why do you have to meet my parents?”

“Exactly,” she said.

“I’m not sure I follow what you mean.”

“Then how on earth did you ever make it through Tolstoy?”

If he wasn’t confused before, he was completely baffled now. She started walking slowly down the beach, and he took a few quick steps to catch up with her.

“You’re not exactly easy to figure out.”

“And?”

“And nothing. Just noting it for the record.”

She smiled to herself, glancing toward the horizon. In the distance, a shrimp trawler was making its way to port. “I want to be here when it happens,” she offered.

“When what happens?”

“When the turtles hatch. What did you think I was talking about?”

He shook his head. “Oh, we’re back to that. Well, okay, when do you leave for New York?”

“Late August.”

“That’s cutting it close. Just hope for a long hot summer.”

“It’s off to a good start. I’m boiling.”

“That’s because you’re wearing black. And jeans.”

“I didn’t realize I’d be spending most of the day outside.”

“Otherwise you would have worn a bikini, right?”

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“You don’t like bikinis?”

“Of course I do.”

“Just not around me?”

She tossed her head. “Not today.”

“What if I promise to take you fishing again?”

“You’re not helping yourself.”

“Duck hunting?”

That stopped her. When she finally found her voice, it was disapproving. “Tell me you don’t really kill ducks?”

When Will said nothing, Ronnie went on, “Cute, sweet little feathered creatures, flying toward their little duck pond, just minding their own business? And you blow them out of the sky?”

Will considered the question. “Only in the winter.”

“When I was a little girl, my favorite stuffed animal was a duck. I had duck wallpaper. I had a hamster named Daffy. I love ducks.”

“I do, too.” he said.

She didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. Will responded by counting on the tips of his fingers as he continued, “I love them fried, roasted, broiled, with a side of sweet-and-sour sauce-”

She gave him a shove, knocking him off balance for a step or two. “That’s terrible!”

“It’s funny!”

“You’re just a mean man.”

“Sometimes,” he said. He motioned toward the house. “So if you don’t want to go home yet, do you want to come with me?”

“Why? Are you planning to show or tell me about yet another way you kill small animals?”

“I’ve got a volleyball game soon and I want you to come. It’s fun.”

“Are you going to spill soda on me again?”

“Only if you bring a soda.”

She debated for an instant, then fell into step with him in the direction of the pier. He nudged her and she nudged him back.

“I think you have problems,” she told him.

“What problems?”

“Well, for starters, you’re an evil duck killer.”

He laughed before catching her eye. She looked down at the sand, then up the beach, then finally toward him. She shook her head, unable to suppress a smile, as if marveling at what was happening between them and enjoying every moment.

If he weren’t so damn cute, none of this would have happened.

As she watched Will and Scott scramble around the court, she reflected on the series of events that had brought her here. Had she really gone fishing earlier today? And watched a wounded turtle swim around a tank at eight o’clock in the morning?

She shook her head, trying not to focus on Will’s lean body and visible muscles as he chased the ball across the sand. Tough to ignore, since he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Maybe the rest of the summer wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Of course, she’d thought the same thing after meeting Blaze, and look how that had turned out.

He wasn’t really her type, but as she watched him play, she began to wonder whether that was such a bad thing. She hadn’t had the best luck when it came to choosing guys in the past, Rick being the prime example. Lord knows Will was smarter than any of the other guys she’d dated, and more than that, he seemed to be doing something with his life. He worked, he volunteered, he was a pretty good athlete; he even got along with his family. And even though he liked to play things off in an “aw, shucks” sort of way, he wasn’t a pushover. When she tested him, he called her on it-more than once, in fact-and she had to admit she sort of liked it.

If there was one thing about him that gave her pause, it was this: She didn’t know why he liked her. She wasn’t anything like the girls she’d seen him with the night of the carnival-and in all honesty, she wasn’t even sure he’d want to see her again after today. She watched him jog back to the service line, then glance in her direction, obviously pleased she’d come. He moved easily through the sand, and when he got ready to serve the ball, he signaled something to Scott, who seemed to play the game as though his life depended on it. As soon as Scott turned toward the net, Will rolled his eyes, making it plain that he found his friend’s intensity a bit over the top. It’s only a game, he seemed to say, and she found that heartening. Then, after tossing the ball in the air and serving hard, he raced toward the side of the court to keep the volley going. When he sacrificed his body by diving for the ball and sending a plume of sand in the air, she wondered whether what she’d seen a moment earlier had been only an illusion-but after his shot went wide and Scott threw up his hands in frustration with an angry glare, Will ignored him. After winking at Ronnie, he readied himself for the next shot.