Chapter 6 - Jonah's Son

Leah recognized me before I stood. Her son, Caleb, had Jonah's dark curls and his father's stubborn chin.

"I heard the ceremony got ugly," Leah said. "Are you okay?"

She had no idea how close the answer was to no. For six years I'd sent Caleb birthday cards without a return address. Leah knew they came from me. We had never talked about the fourth crossing.

Brody rose so fast his knee hit the table.

"Mrs. Owens, I owe you—"

"Not in front of my son," she said.

He sat.

Caleb looked at the medal on my coat. "Are you the lady who tried to bring Dad home?"

My throat closed. "Yes, buddy."

"Mom says trying counts."

"Your mom is right."

He returned to the counter for pie, within Leah's sight. She sat opposite us.

"Mercer called me yesterday," she said. "He said people might bring up things that would upset Caleb. He offered to help with his college fund if I kept quiet."

Dwayne put down his cup. "Did you take it?"

"I told him to go to hell. Then I called a lawyer."

I showed her the threatening message. Leah read it without moving a muscle.

"He's scared of something," she said. "Not the medal. Something older."

I told her about the key. She looked at Brody. "Did Jonah know the gate was going to open?"

Brody stared through the diner window. "He was the one who warned Mercer over the radio. He said the water was already rising."

"Then why did he end up trapped?"

"Because he turned back for our driver," Brody said. "The driver got out. Jonah didn't."

Leah pressed her lips together. For years she had been told Jonah died after making an unauthorized crossing. Now the word unauthorized sounded like an accusation someone had slipped into his grave.

"I want the reports," she said. "All of them."

"I'll help you request them," I said. "Through your attorney, with the right people involved."

She touched my wrist, just above the brace. "Erin, if there's something you haven't told me, don't protect me with silence. I can't survive another six years of almost knowing."

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I looked at the photograph folded in my pocket. And at the part of the river I had refused to remember.

"There is one thing," I said. "Jonah was conscious when I found him. His last words weren't about himself."