Chapter 26 — Home

As the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the first stars pricked awake in the deepening sky, Caleb came running up the terrace steps, out of breath, Barnaby trotting faithfully at his heels, and he dropped onto the marble bench beside me and leaned his head against my shoulder and slid his warm hand into mine.

His surgical scar had long since faded to a thin silver line across his chest, a quiet badge of everything we had come through, a reminder of the miracle that one old man’s final act of stubborn generosity had given us.

He looked out at the darkening sea for a long while, and then at the words carved into the bench, tracing the letters slowly with one finger, though I do not think he had ever asked what they fully meant, and then, softly, he asked, “What are you looking at, Mom?” “Just thinking about Arthur, sweetheart.” He was quiet a moment.