Chapters (43)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- 1974
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- 1978
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- 1986
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Kristin Hannah
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
- Copyright
Not much farther and they came to the Walker house, now Walker Lodge. Still a crown jewel; two stories of skinned logs, with a huge porch and windows that overlooked the bay and the mountains. There was no junk showing in the yard anymore; no rusting trucks or coils of wire or stacked pallets. Instead, there were wooden partitions here and there, freestanding walls to hide whatever was behind. Adirondack chairs populated the deck. The animal pens had been moved to the distant tree line.
Down at the dock, a float plane was tied up alongside three aluminum fishing boats. There were people walking along paths, fishing on the beach. Employees in brown uniforms and guests in color-coordinated rain gear and brand-new fleece vests. Leni got out of the truck, looked around.
MJ bolted out of the lodge, bounded across the deck, maneuvering around the chairs, and came at her, waving something in his hand.
Leni bent down and scooped him up, holding him so tightly he started to wiggle to get free. She didn’t realize until right then how afraid she’d been of losing him.
Tom Walker headed toward her. Beside him was a pretty, broad-shouldered Native woman with hip-length black hair that was going gray in a single wide streak. She wore a faded denim blouse tucked into khaki pants, with a knife sheathed at her belt and a pair of wire cutters sticking out of her breast pocket.
“Hey, Leni,” Mr. Walker said, “I’d like you to meet my wife, Atka.”
The woman held out her hand and smiled. “I have heard so much about you and your mother.”
Leni’s throat felt tight as she shook Atka’s rough hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you.” She looked at Mr. Walker. “Mama would be happy for you.” Leni’s voice cracked.
They fell silent after that.
MJ dropped to his knees in the grass, making his blue triceratops fight his red T. rex, with growling sound effects.
“I’d like to see him now,” Leni said. She knew instinctively that Mr. Walker was waiting for her to tell him she was ready. “Alone, I think. If that’s okay with you.”
Mr. Walker turned to his wife. “Atka, would you and Marge watch the little one for a minute?”
Atka smiled, swept the long hair to her back. “MJ, do you remember the starfish I told you about? The animal called Yuit by my people, the wrestler of the waves? Would you like to see one?”
MJ shot to his feet. “Yes! Yes!”
Leni crossed her arms as she watched Large Marge and Atka and MJ walk toward the beach stairs. MJ’s high, chattering voice faded gradually away.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Mr. Walker said.