They had not run.

A father and his three boys had turned a small boat toward people they did not know, in weather that would kill them for it, and had stayed until the strangers were safe.

I would have given anything to have them back.

Given that I could not, this was the thing I would have chosen to know: that they were, at the end, exactly as good as I had always believed, and better.

“Come closer, everyone,” Abigail said.