Winslow,” Harrison breathed, in pure astonishment.

Raymond gave him a small, dry smile from the top of the steps.

“Do not prepare my funeral just yet, Harrison,” he said.

He came down one step at a time, slowly, gripping the rail, and it cost him everything he had.

I climbed up close behind him, my hands ready to catch him if he faltered, my heart in my throat with every slow descent.

By the time his feet reached the bottom step, his white shirt was soaked through with sweat and his whole body trembled with the effort, but he stood upright, and he lifted his chin, and he was, unmistakably, alive and himself and in command.