Leni stared up at him.

“I prayed. You’d. Come back,” he said.

“I wanted to,” she whispered.

He gave her a smile, knowing how it pulled down the skin at his eye, made him look even more freakish.

She put her arms around him and he was amazed at how they still fit together. After all the ways he’d been put back together, restrung and bolted up; they still fit together. She touched his scarred face. “You are so beautiful.”

He tightened his hold on her, tried to steady himself, feeling suddenly, inexplicably afraid.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

He didn’t know how to say what he was feeling, or he was afraid that if he said it, she’d think less of him. He’d been drowning for all of these years without her, and she was the shore he’d been flailing to find. But surely she would look into his ravaged, stitched-together face and run away, and then he would drift back into the deep, dark waters alone.

He pulled away, limped back over to his wheelchair, and sat down with an oomph of pain. He shouldn’t have held her, felt her body against his. How would he ever forget the feel of her again? He tried to get back onto an ordinary track, but couldn’t find his way. He was trembling. “Where. Have you been?”

“Seattle.” She moved toward him. “It’s a long story.”

At her touch, the world—his world—had cracked open or broke apart. Something. He wanted to revel in the moment, burrow into it like a pile of furs and let it warm him, but none of it felt real or safe. “Tell me.”

She shook her head.

“I disappoint. You.”

“You aren’t the disappointment, Matthew. I am. I always have been. I was the one who left. And when you needed me most. I would understand if you can’t forgive me. I can’t forgive me. I did it because, well … there’s someone you need to meet. Afterwards, if you still want to, we can talk.”

Matthew frowned. “Someone. Here?”

“Outside with your dad and Atka. Will you come with me to meet him?”

Him.

Disappointment settled deep, all the way to his bolted-together bones. “I don’t need to meet. Your him.”

“You’re mad. I get it. You said we always stand by the people we love, but I didn’t. I ran.”

“Don’t talk. Go,” he said in a harsh voice. “Please. Just go.”

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. She was so beautiful he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to cry, to scream. How would he ever let her go? He had been waiting for this moment, for her, for them, for all the years he could remember, through pain so bad he cried in his sleep, but every day he woke and thought, Her, and he tried again. He’d imagined a million versions of their future, but he’d never imagined this. Her coming back just to say goodbye.

“You have a son, Matthew.”

It happened for him like that sometimes. He heard the wrong words, took in information that wasn’t there. His screwed-up brain. Before he could guard against it, use his learned tools, the pain of those words crashed down on him. He wanted to let her know that he’d misunderstood, but all he could do was howl, a deep, rolling growl of pain. Words abandoned him; all he had left was pure emotion. He lurched out of the chair and stumbled backward, away from her, hitting the kitchen counter hard. It was his damaged brain, telling him what he wanted to hear instead of what was actually said.

Leni moved toward him. He could see how hurt she was, how crazed she thought he was, and shame made him want to turn away. “Go. If you’re leaving. Go.”

“Matthew, please. Stop. I know I’ve hurt you.” She reached out for him. “Matthew, I’m sorry.”

“Go away. Please.”

“You have a son,” she said slowly. “A son. We have a son. Do you understand me?”

He frowned. “A baby?”

“Yes. I brought him to meet you.”

At first he felt pure, exquisite joy; then the truth hit him hard. A son. A child of his, of theirs. It made him want to cry for what he’d lost.

“Look at me,” he said quietly.

“I’m looking.”

“I look like. Someone rebuilt me with. A bad sewing machine. Sometimes it hurts. So much I can’t speak. It took me two years to stop. Grunting and screaming. And say my first. Real word.”

“And?”

He thought of all the things he’d once imagined he would teach a son, and it collapsed around him. He was too broken to hold anyone else together. “I can’t pick him up. Can’t put him. On my shoulders. He won’t want this. For a dad.” He knew Leni heard the longing in his voice at that; the universe in a three-letter word.

She touched his face, let her fingers trace the scars that put him back together, stared up into his green eyes. “You know what I see? A man who should have died but wouldn’t give up. I see a man who fought to talk and walk and think. Every one of your scars breaks my heart and puts it back together. Your fear is every parent’s fear. I see the man I have loved for my whole life. The father of our son.”

“Don’t. Know how.”

“No one knows how. Believe me. Can you hold his hand? Can you teach him to fish? Can you make him a sandwich?”

“I’ll embarrass him,” he said.

“Kids are durable, and so is their love. Trust me, Matthew, you can do this.”

“Not alone.”

“Not alone. It’s you and me, just like it was always supposed to be. We’ll do it together. Okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She held his face in her hands and rose up onto her toes to kiss him. With that one kiss, so like another kiss from long ago, a lifetime ago, two kids believing in a happy ending, he felt his world come back into alignment. “Come meet him,” she whispered against his lips. “He snores just like you do. And he bumps into every piece of furniture. And he loves Robert Service poems.”

She took his hand. Together they walked out of the cabin, him limping slowly, holding her hand tightly, leaning on her, letting her steady him. Wordlessly, they made their way out of the trees and past the house that was now a world-class fishing lodge, toward the new beach stairs.

As always, the shoreline was full of guests, dressed in their new Alaska rain gear, fishing at the water’s edge, birds cawing in the air, waiting for scraps.