Cheers, God bless around the table. Even Jennifer raises her glass.

They order. Bisque for Drake, flatbread for Mitzi, lobster roll for Margaret, steak for Kelley, chicken fingers for Jaime, burger for Pierce, nothing for Barrett until he relents and orders the burger, bouillabaisse for Isabelle, grilled swordfish for Kevin, and a salad, no dressing, for Jennifer. Until she reconsiders and orders the fried shrimp platter with extra coleslaw.

Okay, Kevin thinks. They are on their way. Genevieve is asleep in Isabelle’s arms and Isabelle doesn’t look far behind. Kevin is so tired he could put his head down on the table now and sleep until morning.

The waiter leaves and Ava appears. She is not with Scott, as they all expected. She is by herself and her face is bright pink. She looks like a dam that’s about to burst.

“Mitzi?” Ava says. “Daddy?”

Everyone at the table is staring at her.

Margaret seems to intuit what Ava is about to say. “Has something happened, darling?”

“I just heard on the radio that one of the missing marines from Bart’s platoon has escaped. The U.S. military has him. He’s in critical condition and is being flown to Landstuhl for treatment.”

“What?” Mitzi says.

Margaret jumps up from the table with her phone.

KELLEY

He is the patriarch here. It’s up to him to keep order and make decisions. They can’t sit and enjoy lunch now; already their table sounds like a street riot.

Kevin asks the waiter to pack all the meals up to go and Jennifer says that she and the boys will wait for the food while everyone else heads back to the inn.

Mitzi is shaking so badly Kelley and Drake each take an arm and lead her out of the restaurant. She’s saying, “One of the marines escaped. One escaped! That means the others are alive. Right, Kelley? Right?”

“We don’t know,” Kelley says. One marine out of forty-five escaped. What are the chances it was Bart? Three percent. And does Kelley want it to be Bart? The marine is in “critical condition.”

But he’s alive. And Mitzi’s right. That means the others might be alive, too.

Hope.

Margaret is standing in the parking lot, phone to one ear, fingers plugging the other. Kelley and Drake walk Mitzi over to the car and help her inside.

Kelley wishes he’d eaten something. He does not feel well. His head feels like it’s going to topple off his shoulders.

Margaret finally hangs up and climbs into the backseat. She says, “They should be releasing the name within the hour.”

Mitzi keens. Kelley gets behind the wheel. One thing at a time. He has to drive safely back to the inn.

Hope.

At home, everyone gathers in the kitchen except for Isabelle, who is putting the baby down for a nap. Jennifer comes in with heavy bags of takeout containers, which smell wonderful, although no one has any desire to eat.

Kelley pours himself a cup of coffee and sets about making some tea for Mitzi, which he knows she won’t drink, but he wants to keep his hands busy.

They are all waiting for Margaret’s phone to ring.

There’s a knock at the front door. Ava looks at Kelley, who looks at Kevin. Kevin goes to answer it, and a few seconds later George walks into the kitchen. Kelley puts a protective hand on Mitzi’s shoulder.

George says, “I just heard the news. I felt I should come.”

Kelley nods and offers their former Santa Claus a stool at the counter. “Coffee?” Kelley asks.

George pulls out his flask. “Whiskey,” he says.

“Good idea,” Kevin says, and he pours himself a shot of Jameson. “Dad?”

“No thanks,” Kelley says.

Jennifer takes a few Styrofoam containers out of the bag and says, “I’m going to take the boys up their lunch.”

The second she leaves, there’s another knock at the front door.

“Word is out,” Kevin says. He goes to answer it. A few seconds later, Scott walks into the kitchen.

“I just heard,” he says. He looks at Ava. “Are you okay?”

Ava shrugs.

“It’s a waiting game,” Drake says.

“Scott, can I get you a cup of coffee?” Kelley asks.

“I’m good, thanks, Mr. Quinn.”

“We missed you at lunch,” Kelley says.

“Yeah, well—”

Scott is interrupted by the ringing of Margaret’s phone.

Everyone in the kitchen stops dead quiet, staring at the name on the lit screen.

Darcy.

The marine’s name is William Burke. He is twenty years old, from Madison, Wisconsin. He is being treated for head trauma and various broken bones and lacerations. He was discovered by a civilian Afghani family. They took him to a U.S. military outpost on the outskirts of Sangin.

“That’s all we have right now,” Margaret says. “He’s alive, he was strong enough to escape, and my source on the ground says officials are optimistic that most or all of the other soldiers are alive.”

“Most?” Mitzi says.

“We just don’t know,” Margaret says. She hugs Mitzi tightly. “But this is good news, Mitzi. This is good news.”

Tears drip down Mitzi’s face. Margaret looks at Kelley and says, “We need this kid to live. If this kid lives, he can give the military valuable information.”

“Valuable information,” Kelley says.

“So that they can find Bart,” Margaret says.

His son. His baby boy. Not a perfect kid by any stretch of the imagination, but a beloved child nonetheless. A child he and Mitzi had enjoyed and appreciated.

He hears Mitzi whispering under her breath. Bart Bart Bart Bart Bart.

It’s Kelley who suggests they all go into Bart’s room to pray. He and Mitzi, Margaret and Drake, Ava and Scott, Kevin, Isabelle, and Genevieve, Jennifer, the boys, and even George. They all file into Bart’s room and, without words, join hands in a circle. The room smells like Bart was there five minutes ago—pot smoke, Doritos, dirty socks.

Kelley says, “Dear Lord, we are a family, prostrate before you, asking for the return of our son, our brother, our uncle, Bartholomew Quinn. Please bring him safely back to this island, back to this house, back to this family. And we pray for the recovery of Private William Burke and for his family and loved ones…”

Suddenly Kelley can’t breathe. He can’t get air in or out of his lungs. In his mind’s eye is a picture of Bart’s face in the seconds just after he got beaned with the baseball thrown by D-Day, who was a head taller than Bart, and three years older. He can see the pain on Bart’s face and the urge to mask the pain, the desire to be brave, to shake it off, to stand back up at the plate and try to hit the ball again. You didn’t hurt me, you didn’t scare me, pitch to me again! This is the same attitude he will be exhibiting now, wherever he is. Bart grew up afraid of nothing because he never had any reason to be afraid. He, more than the older children, was certain of his talent, his charm, his good luck. He is alive somewhere and he is bravely plotting his own escape.

Kelley will see his son again.

It is the certainty of this that draws all of the oxygen out of Kelley’s lungs.

“Amen,” everyone says.

Kelley falls to his knees first, and then collapses on the floor.

“Kelley!” Mitzi screams.

Kevin and Ava simultaneously call 911. Drake kneels down to check Kelley’s pulse. Kelley hears Drake say, “He’s unconscious.”

Bart, Kelley thinks. This is good news, he thinks.

Margaret says, “Help him, Drake. Help him!”

Mitzi says, “Kelley, baby, please wake up. Please, Kelley. Don’t you leave me, too.”

JENNIFER

Kelley is taken to Nantucket Cottage Hospital, where he will be kept overnight for observation and tests. It’s exhaustion, the doctor thinks. Stress, low blood sugar. Nothing to be worried about, yet.

At four o’clock, after things have quieted down, Jennifer sits in an armchair in the living room, where she can see the twinkling lights and whimsical ornaments on the Christmas tree. She calls the prison in Shirley to talk to Patrick. The oxy has worn off and she resists taking another. She feels scooped out, and her nerves are frayed.