Okay, so this is just a one-shot that I wrote because I so thoroughly enjoyed this book, as sappy as it may be. I don't think anyone else has written for this book, so I hope it makes some sense. This is just an idea of what might have happened in the future. There are probably spoilers for the book, just so you're warned.

Disclaimer: This belongs to Nicholas Sparks. I don't own it.

It had been many years since Ronnie had been back to Wrightsville Beach. Sixty years to the day that she had first set foot on this beach, here she was again. After the deaths of Will's parents, and their own family keeping them busy, they had little time to visit. Yet, even this place was relatively untouched by time. Oh sure, there was more traffic than ever, and the old diner had been remodeled and now looked completely different, but the air still smelled salty and fresh, and hatchling sea turtles still made their trek to the ocean.

Ronnie stood on the beach, holding herself steady with a cane. She could still remember the first time that they had literally run into each other. How could she have known that one simple situation would affect her whole life so much? Will. Her thoughts turned to him. To the first boy she had ever fallen in love with. He had been her heart, the piece of her soul that made her complete. It had been his love, joy and strength that had sustained her throughout the past years.

After he had moved to New York, they had resumed dating, just as if nothing had changed. She had begun her studies at Julliard while he studied environmental science at Columbia. For four long years, they had eagerly planned their impending future together. And finally, a year after they graduated Ronnie and Will were married, the ceremony performed by Pastor Harris, in the small church under the light of her father's stained glass window.

Their first few years were spent in a small apartment in Wrightsville, with Will working at the aquarium and Ronnie giving piano lessons, along with writing some music of her own. Eventually, they relocated to Florida when Will received a position at another aquarium. Three years after they were married, Steven was born, named for her father. Two years later, the twins Michael and Madison joined their older brother. Ronnie smiled, remembering the many happy memories they had made living in the Everglades. Will had joined the research project of a young doctor who was studying the effects of pollutants on the alligator populations. She had stopped giving lessons to be with the kids, but once they were all in school, she had begun writing music again. Her pieces had slowly made their way across the state, and eventually had some modest airplay on classical radio. After awhile, the kids had gone on to college; she and Will moved back again to Wrightsville Beach. The loggerhead population had dwindled, and they helped support a conservation project that was run by some old friends of Will from the aquarium. Living in Wrightsville again had been a joy. They had moved into her father's house, although it had become dilapidated and rundown with the storms and time that had Ronnie had been able to catch up with people she hadn't seen since that summer long ago. Galadriel had changed greatly over the years; the scars had faded over the years. She had eventually married a local boy and had bought the old diner when the owner retired. She and Ronnie spent many hours reminiscing and talking about their summer and all the events leading up to it. Marcus had been put in prison for fifteen years for the arson. Galadriel told Ronnie, with some satisfaction that the strings of burglaries and other felony charges had upped the time until he was destined to live out his life behind bars.

After spending twenty years working at the aquarium, Will had retired. He and Ronnie traveled to their children's families, visiting with their grandchildren. They also helped out at the local church, keeping it neat and tidy. Pastor Harris' grandnephew had followed in his uncle's footsteps and pastored the church after Pastor Harris had died.

Ronnie smiled at the memories of Will cleaning the little church, while she played the little piano, filling the air with her father's songs. The songs he had written for her. His final song, the one they had written together, had been played only for her father. It was so private and intimate, that she had never played it for anyone else.

Until now.

Ronnie stood shakily, her balance unsteady. She leaned heavily on her cane and slowly walked down the street, heading to the one place that still filled her with peace. As she carefully navigated the steps to the church, she thought back to recent years.

After many happy years of retirement, Will had begun to develop signs of some serious illness, symptoms that filled her with dread. Ronnie had finally convinced him to visit the doctor after much badgering. The diagnosis of kidney failure had been a shock, a pain like no other. Following much deliberation, they had decided to move back to New York to be nearer to their children. Will had chosen to forego a kidney transplant due to his age, although Ronnie had wanted him to. Three times a week, they had gone to dialysis.

Until the end.

The dialysis stopped being effective, and Will's health had rapidly worsened. Once again, she was again living in the waiting room of a hospital, sleeping in the chair next to his bed. On a quiet spring evening, with her holding his hand, Will had quietly slipped away, leaving her alone. His death had been devastating, a pain from which she would never recover. Her children had tried to persuade her to move with him, but Ronnie refused. She had one more trip to make. Then she could rest. Forever.

The hardwood floors of the church creaked beneath her feet as she made her way to the front. She lovingly caressed the black and white keys of the old weathered keyboard. Ronnie carefully sat down and played a few notes. Although the piano was old, it was still in perfect tune. Rays of light came through the stained glass. Her father's window. Light shone through a new window, the one that had been installed to replace a recent act of vandalism. She privately called that one Will's window. The rays of sunlight from both windows fell on her hair, bathing her in a kaleidoscope of colors. Ronnie smiled again. She began to play her father's song, memories of salty air, volleyball games, turtle hatchlings, and long summer nights flitting in and out of the notes.

Her final performance.

For her father. For Will.

The final notes hung in the air and slowly faded away, drifting along the sea breezes.

Well, I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading.