Shane shoved open the door and ran, full sprint, to the dock. Colleen was fast behind him, reaching them just as Shane took the ropes from Gavin’s hands. “Dad. Stop.”

“It’s my river.” Dad pushed back at Shane, not hard but enough to startle them all.

“Not now, Dad. Not now. It’s time to go to the pub. Hank has some questions for you.”

Colleen knew this wasn’t true, but if it kept their dad from the river, would a little lie matter? Was this what it had come to? Little lies to protect their dad’s safety?

Gavin stood straighter.

Hallie ran to the dock, meeting them at its edge. “Dad . . .”

Gavin’s face turned placid and a smile returned. He stepped forward, carefully, looking warily at the dock’s splintered wood as if the boards were shifting and separating under his feet. He walked slowly, a shuffle more than a walk, until he reached his daughter. “When did you get here?”

“I’ve been here all afternoon. Remember? I’m moving back in.”

“You left?”

“Yes . . . I married and . . .” Hallie pressed her lips together into a straight line. The explaining, it was exhausting. She exhaled as if she’d finally realized the futility. “Yes, I’m here.”

Acceptance.

What an awful word, Colleen thought. What a giving-up helluva word. But it was the only one that applied.

She went to her dad then, put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I love you, Dad.”

“Well, my little lark, I love you, too.” And together they walked up to the house.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Sweet is the memory of past troubles.

Cicero, De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum (On the Ends of Good and Evil), I, xvii

Gavin sat in the middle of the pub, his booming voice echoing across the dim room. Nightfall brought dark cover to the windows. The bar hostess walked from table to table lighting the tea lights. Colleen sat with her sister at a corner table, both sipping frothy Guinnesses and unable to find what they wanted or needed to say. Shane bustled about keeping the pub running. Peaceful. But Colleen knew by now what a fragile commodity peace was, how easily it could be broken.

“Then,” Gavin’s voice echoed, “the Yanks swept the World Series.”

“What a night that was,” another, deeper voice responded.

Colleen sipped her beer, and Hallie smiled at her sister and motioned to her upper lip. “You have a beer ’stache.”

Colleen wiped at her mouth and leaned closer. “I know this has been a long and crazy day, but do you have the finished book?”

“Yesterday I left it upstairs in Shane’s apartment. I was afraid it would get lost in the chaos. But . . .” Hallie exhaled and fiddled with her ponytail. “You must go see it. It’s amazing. Shane did an incredible job, and so did you with the stories.” Hallie nodded toward the ceiling. “Go read it.”