Chapter 24: Looking Up

Jasper came out onto the porch with two mugs of coffee, and I held up the envelope.

He put the mugs down on the rail.

"From Mark?"

"Behind his photograph."

"Mama, how long was it there?"

"Five years," said Mark's mother, quietly. "I never turned the picture over."

Jasper sat down beside me on the step.

I slid my thumb under the flap, and the paper inside was a single yellow page, folded in thirds.

We read it together.

*Jas, Calla. If you're reading this, something went wrong and I'm sorry about the timing.*

*Calla, you're the best friend I ever had and I'm marrying you for the alliance.*

*Jas, stop scowling. I've seen how you look at her picture on my desk.*

*If I'm gone, don't let anybody tell you what happened. Find out. Then be happy, and make it loud. M.*

Jasper's hand closed on mine.

His shoulders shook once, and then he laughed, cracked and wet.

"Make it loud," he said.

"He would say that."

"He always did."

Mark's mother put both hands over her mouth, and her eyes were bright.

I leaned against his shoulder, and we stayed there until the coffee went cold.

A year and a day later, on the morning my father's service ended, I drove to the Silver Prison.

The ferry crossed to the mountain island in a thin white fog.

Jasper stood beside me at the rail with his hand at the small of my back.

I had not been at that gate since the day I walked out of it.

The same steel doors stood at the top of the dock.

The same keeper in his gray coat stood beside them, and in front of the keeper stood Stanton Brennick.