Furry Tails would give him something he’d wanted for a long time: a connection to Luke. Bonus: It would also give him a way to spend some of his free time. Which meant he’d have less time to sit around mourning Leah.

He reached the door labeled After-School Program and knocked.

“Come in,” a feminine voice called.

He let himself into a large sunny space. Quiet fell as ten kids and two adults swung toward him from their standing and sitting positions. The room looked a lot like an elementary school classroom. Tables with small chairs. A whiteboard. Artwork displays. A computer station.

Akira, whom he’d met at lunch at Pablo’s, approached. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She was an attractive woman but so soft-spoken that he hadn’t gotten a good read on her. Today, she’d chosen a pale pink sweater, dark jeans she’d rolled up at the hem a few times, and sneakers. Her straight black hair ended a few inches below her shoulders. Her face held sweetness. Her body, curves.

She turned toward her kids. “This is Mr. Coleman, who will be stopping by occasionally to lend a hand.”

None of them spoke.

“Can you say hello to Mr. Coleman?” she prompted.

“Hello, Mr. Coleman,” they said in unison.

A confident-looking white kid with brown hair cut in a trendy style raised his hand.

“Yes, Maxwell?” Akira said.

“What’s your career?” Maxwell asked him.

“I’m a high school science teacher.”

“He’s going to help plan a science unit for all of us,” Akira said, “among other things. Won’t that be great?”

None of them appeared to think that would be great.

“Is it all right with you if I give them your mini bio?” Akira asked him under her breath.

“Sure.”

“Mr. Coleman grew up here in Misty River. Those of you who love sports will be interested to know that he played baseball in high school and college. Do you still play?”

“Casually. In a local league.”

“And all of you,” Akira continued, “will be interested to know that he is one of the astonishing Miracle Five.”

People mentioned the Miracle Five so often that, in a way, it no longer surprised him. In another way, it still always surprised him.

He was a normal guy. He liked to eat his mom’s pot roast. He let his nieces and nephews climb on his back to play fighting horses with pool noodles. He watched sports on TV. He went to church on Sunday mornings and graded papers at night.

Yet he often came into contact with people who identified him with the one abnormal thing he’d experienced. The earthquake had happened almost twenty years ago, during his childhood. News of the five kids trapped under the rubble had spread around the world, and so people remembered it still. He’d had no control over any of it. He’d done nothing extraordinary.