The man had been sitting there every evening for nearly a week. Only the more adventurous travelers visited this place. And at this time of day, even they were heading back to their homes and hotels miles away down in the bustling city of Antalya. Foolish really, as this was when the ruins of Termessos were especially magical, when the sun was falling toward the pine-clad mountains behind the theater. Its orange glow drybrushed the finely cut stone of wall and archway or was dappled by overhanging branch and creeping vine. Street, temple, house, and marketplace prepared for another night without their townsfolk, gone now for two thousand years. The light captivated the man and made him sad at the same time. The last time he’d seen this beauty, he’d been a family man.

The phone in his pocket bleeped, the modernity of the sound made ridiculous by the setting. After checking it, he got up and started to work his way down the tiers of seating, moving fast but awkwardly, as if stiff from sitting on the hard stone.

He picked his way through fallen and overgrown masonry and then joined a path that led through the pines to a mountain track. On the track, he approached a small motor home, took a key from the wheel arch, and went inside.

“Hello?” he said to the empty interior.

Silence. On the table, a small, padded envelope was ready for posting. Destination: Detroit.

Beside it a laptop was on standby. Learning how to manage a successful online business had been a welcome distraction over the last week, both from the pain and the waiting. He looked out the side window, where the ground dropped steeply away from the road, but saw no one. He made his way to the front of the motor home and looked through the windshield. About a hundred yards up the track, he saw two figures, an adult and a child, except Abby didn’t seem quite so childlike anymore. She was looking out over the mountains, pointing something out to Caitlyn.

He clambered over the passenger seat, opened the door, and dropped down onto the dusty track. He called out as he broke into a limping run. Abby turned at the sound of his voice. She didn’t run toward him, though, didn’t know whether he would be the same father who left her on a porch in Lathrup Village. But Spencer knew he’d make that right. He’d make her feel so loved she wouldn’t think about the last four years during which she’d had to shut her need for love away.