BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. Also by Silas House
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. Part Two
  27. 1
  28. 2
  29. 3
  30. 4
  31. 5
  32. 6
  33. 7
  34. 8
  35. 9
  36. 10
  37. Part Three
  38. 1
  39. 2
  40. 3
  41. 4
  42. 5
  43. 6
  44. 7
  45. 8
  46. 9
  47. 10
  48. 11
  49. 12
  50. 13
  51. 14
  52. 15
  53. 16
  54. 17
  55. 18
  56. 19
  57. 20
  58. 21
  59. 22
  60. 23
  61. 24
  62. 25
  63. 26
  64. 27
  65. 28
  66. 29
  67. 30
  68. 31
  69. Part Four
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. Epilogue: The Everything
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About the Author
  76. About Algonquin
  77. Copyright

Asher can’t help it, he relaxes there, settling against her. He lets loose a breath he has been holding for weeks now and this feels like a tight fist unclenching. He feels the breath leave his body and travel past the porch, brushing past plants and easing through the leaves of trees, his grief unleashing until it catches the wind and is carried out to the sea. Bell holds on to him and there is only their breathing. Asher realizes he has closed his eyes. He can hear Justin splashing in the pool.

Bell steps back. “I saw the card,” she says. “We get mail here, too.” He hadn’t thought of that, even though he has seen the mail carrier come plenty of times. “The P.O. box is for personal mail; this one’s for business.”

He waits, watching her.

“And I’ve read some of the news reports. Have you done all the things they say?”

“No.” A lie. “Yes, but the way they make it all sound. It’s—”

“Why would you take him away from his mother, though, Asher? Was she mean to him?”

“No, not like that. But—”

“I know things are always more complicated than they appear,” she says. “But you can’t raise your boy like this.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“Are you alone in this world?”

“Except for Justin,” he says. “My brother, but I did him wrong.”

“Now you have me, too.” She isn’t smiling, but a tenderness overtakes her face. “People like us have to stick together.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what it’s like to be on the run.”

Asher nods. How is it that a stranger can feel more like family than folks he has known his whole life?

“Try not to get so wrought up,” she says. “He can feel it. And right now, you’re a mess. You’ve got to get yourself together.”

“I know it,” Asher says. Then: “I’ll try to figure out how to get out of here as soon as I can, if you can—”

“You landed in a safe place.” She eases into the rocker, wincing as she sits back. “A blind man could see what a good daddy you are to that little boy. That’s good enough for me.”

“Thank you,” Asher repeats, thinking thank you thank you thank you.

19

19

There are clumps of seaweed all along the water’s edge, rocking endlessly back and forth as the little waves come in and go out, in and out. The waves aren’t as heavy on this side as over on the beach at Fort Zachary Taylor because of the protective reef. Seagulls puff their white chests out toward the Atlantic, watching the ocean, soldiers waiting for re­inforcements to arrive. Curmudgeonly pelicans flap overhead, their eyes firmly set.