Dodge closed the door, turned the plane, and took off into the blue sky, Echo strapped in the seat beside him.

As he arched over the lake, he saw the giant bear emerge from the woods on the north end of the lake, as if following their shadow.

sixteen

Echo didn’t care what Dodge said—they had been saved by a bear. Which had come out of nowhere.

And not just any bear, but George.

If anything, her father had to live just so she could tell him that, in the end, George wasn’t lost.

A strange bubble of disbelief-slash-hysteria had built inside her, even as Dodge had flown them—without running out of fuel and dropping out of the sky—to Anchorage.

Right back to the ER where they’d brought Jane Doe.

And where Echo’s life had sort of imploded. Except, maybe that had been a catastrophe of her own making. She’d been upset and had read into Moose’s conversation, and maybe Dodge wasn’t leaving.

And then there was the conversation with her mother that had stirred up all her fears.

“I need coffee,” Dodge had said as they sat in the surgical waiting room. He ran a hand behind his neck, squeezed the muscle there.

“I’m on it.”

“No, I’ll go.” He started to get up, but she pushed him back.

“You wait just in case the doctor comes back. I have to walk.”

He caught her hand, his blue eyes thick with concern. “Fine. Don’t wander off.” Then he tugged her down and kissed her.

Aw, what was she supposed to do with that?

She’d left Dodge there, keenly aware that not only had he shown up for her, he hadn’t let go of her hand since the doctors had taken her father into surgery.

Her dad had internal bleeding, of course. She understood—she felt like maybe she’d been bleeding internally for the better part of a decade.

Maybe even before Dodge left.

Now, Echo looked into the mirror of the bathroom, at her tired, bloodshot eyes, her pale face, and tried to shake off the memory of the Russian man’s hands in her hair. His rank breath on her face, acrid and smelling of drink. Tried to blink away the sight of Igor about to kill the man she loved and, most importantly, Dodge standing there, unarmed, ready to take him on. Ready to die, for her.

And it hit her.

This was love. Love showed up. Love stayed. Love sacrificed.

She knew love. She knew love through her dad.

She knew love through Dodge.

“We don’t know how God protects us. How he is there for us, but he is.”

Maybe she just needed to step back and open her eyes. Look for a different perspective.

See.

“My point is that we found you. Practically a miracle.”