“I love you so much, Daddy,” Junie said as she climbed down off his lap.

“I couldn’t love you one crumb more myself,” he told her.

When his dad stood up, he actually seemed taller than Nate remembered.

He turned to face the two of them. Even though Nate hadn’t said much of anything, his dad knew just where he was. He stood a little awkwardly, with his hands at his sides.

“I need to tell you something. I need to say this to you both, and I’d say it to your mother, too, if I could. I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry I did this to you all.”

Junie hugged him then. “It’s okay, Daddy,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all okay now.”

Nate couldn’t say the same.

It did matter. It had changed everything, forever. His heart was as sore as his legs would be if he’d run a hundred miles or climbed the tallest peak in the Rockies. He would never be the boy he’d been before. He would never forget what happened. The losses of the last few months stretched before him like a vast, nearly endless expanse of prairie, whose terrain would take him years to explore. An ocean, deeper than any diver could get to the bottom of. The sky.

“I forgive you, Dad,” he said. Nate put his arms around him then. They stood that way long enough for Nate to feel the air come into his father’s lungs and, very slowly, out again—feel the tight, stiff muscles of his body soften and relax. “You showed me so many things,” Nate whispered.

It was getting dark outside. Inside the sunroom a man in a white uniform was carrying in trays.

“We need to talk about how we’re going to get you home,” their father said at last. “You were lucky on your drive over here, but I wouldn’t want you driving back. Not to mention, everyone at home must be worried sick about you.”

Nate studied his father’s face then, more lined than before, but still his dad.

“Let’s go call your mother,” his father said, taking their hands and walking with them, very slowly, toward the hallway, and the steps, the door, the lawn, and all the miles still to go.