Then, slowly, Cody found the words he’d been practicing all morning. “I forgive you. I’m still angry, and I’m going to work through that, but if I ever have it in my power to offer forgiveness, I’m going to. I want my dad’s sacrifice to mean something.”

Warren pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

JoEllen reached across the sofa and put her hand over Cody’s. “Your father would be so, so proud of you.”

Cody wouldn’t go into details with them, but he was starting to learn that even though he might have a right to be angry, he had a choice not to give in to that feeling. He would offer forgiveness to someone who didn’t deserve it, the way his father had offered his life to save Cody’s. Though Cody’s sacrifice wasn’t nearly as great, it still meant laying down a piece of himself. It still meant setting aside his offenses in order to bring about peace.

He hoped JoEllen was right—he hoped his choice would’ve made his father proud.

“That’s all I came to say, sir.” Cody got to his feet.

Warren stood and faced him, extending a hand in Cody’s direction.

Cody looked at it, then clasped his hand around it. Louisa’s dad pulled him into a bear hug. “Thank you.”

Cody took a step back, but Warren still held on to his hand.

“I mean it, son,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Thank you.”

JoEllen was at his side. “I’ve got tuna salad in the fridge. You could stay for lunch?”

“Thanks, but I can’t.”

“Will you see Louisa tomorrow?” JoEllen asked as she walked him to the door. “It’s a big day.”

He looked away. He didn’t think Louisa would welcome him at Brant Point, pact or no pact.

“Oh,” JoEllen said sadly. “Well, we wish you a very happy birthday anyway.”

Louisa Elizabeth Chambers was born at 2:52 p.m. on July 30.

Cody Daniel Boggs was born at 5:27 p.m. on July 30.

And thirty years later, on July 30, from 2:52 p.m. until 5:27 p.m., the pact said they would find a way to reunite at Brant Point lighthouse for a picnic lunch and the exchanging of birthday wishes.

But as the clock neared 2:52 p.m., the beach around the lighthouse was horribly, eerily empty.

Hey Dad,

I did it. I forgave Warren. I didn’t want to, but I did it because I think it’s what you would’ve wanted me to do. It’s weird, but somehow I feel lighter now. Like I felt the day I decided to forgive myself.

It’s true that being forgiven changes a person. To know the depth of my own humanity, the ugly side of my sin—and to know that I’m still loved and forgiven. That’s powerful.

I think my words were powerful for Warren, too.