As the ponds fill, frogs come up from the ground as if from graves and reappear, their sounds at night comforting the people, making it easier to sleep. Then the turtles climb out with their sharp, determined claws and are seen sitting on logs and beneath leaves.

Vince maintains loudly that “his” toads are the cause of the rain. “I never did see anything like it. And now look. You see what I mean?”

Soon the water begins moving down the river again and it looks as if the plants might even turn green, that they will bloom again one day soon.

The strange man in creased pants brought with him blessings. They realize something extraordinary has happened. Al at his motel wants to keep the room free of customers. His wife convinces him they can’t lose any business.

When the ocean begins to return, it isn’t the feared and sudden wave that loosens itself from its long waiting on other lands to take away houses and children like some believed. It is a steady movement, approaching the shore. Everyone watches it come toward them.

From the black rock, Thomas observes its return. Like the sky, he cries. He has given his word. He has made a deal with the rain and he is going to stick to it. He is going to travel to Washington to tell the truth to the army, and then to Saigon, now called Ho Chi Minh City, to see if he can find his daughter. His tickets are in his pocket already. He believes his sacrifice, his looking at the truth of his life and no longer hiding, brought the rain and, in all truth, it did help. It was a part of something given. No one else knows this, not Ruth, not anyone. As always, everything has its part, but the Rain Priest had purposely avoided Thomas and the house where Witka, a man he’d known, once lived. In fact, he remembered Thomas from when he was an infant held up in his mother’s arms at the entrance to the cave and he will see him again one day, he is certain. And then, Thomas doesn’t know about Ruth’s part in the deal and the loss of her fishing boat. Ruth doesn’t yet know about the mysterious money deposited into her savings account for her years of struggle raising a son by herself.

Now the people who had feared the tsunami return with their loaded-down cars, a mattress on top, a truck filled with plaid chairs and table legs. Before long the porpoises skip across the water like runners, and at the marina the boats begin to lift as if levitating.

At the restaurant, Vince orders a cinnamon roll. “Do you think those toads were ever tadpoles or do you think they were just always full-grown like that?” He lights a cigarette and watches the water. He puts his hand over his coffee cup when Linda comes by with refills. “I’ve got to cut down. The drought gave me high blood pressure.”