Chapter 14: Fate

On Monday morning, Austin Merrill was standing on the pier at 6:50 with two bouquets.

He had never been early for anything in his life, and he looked frightened by it.

"I read your agreement again," he said. "The last clause says never have just one."

"It does."

"So I brought a spare," Austin said, and held up the second bouquet.

I was moved against my will.

Knox was coiling a line on the bollard ten feet away.

He coiled it, uncoiled it, and coiled it again.

We boarded the 7:10 with a hundred commuters, and Austin followed me up the gangway with his arms full.

He stopped in the middle of the upper deck, where the whole crossing could see him.

"Excuse me," he said. "Everyone. I'm sorry."

A woman in scrubs lowered her coffee.

"Twenty-two years ago, a seven-year-old girl saved my life," Austin said. "I've found her, and she is standing right here, holding a thermos."

"It's a spare thermos," I said.

"There are twenty-two roses, one for every year," he said. "I'd like to give her the first one now."

He gave me the rose, and the commuters clapped.

Then he took a candle out of his coat.

It was a thick white candle in a glass jar, and the label said CAMP OYSTER POINT, LATE SUMMER.

"I had it made," Austin said. "Notes of cattail, wet dock, and a hint of regret."

He lit it with a lighter from his pocket and held it out to me.

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