Chapter 25 - Right HereOne year after the yacht, Junie asked to go on a boat.
Adrian thought he had misheard her.
“A boat?”
“Not a big one.”
“Okay.”
“And no edges.”
“All boats have edges.”
Junie frowned.
“That seems like bad design.”
He laughed.
“A very fair criticism.”
They chose a small harbor ferry with high railings, life jackets and enough safety equipment to satisfy Adrian’s now borderline-obsessive standards.
Danielle came.
Raymond came too.
That surprised some people.
Not Junie.
To her, adults had simply rearranged themselves over the last year into categories she understood.
Safe.
Not safe.
Trying.
Gone.
Raymond belonged to trying.
Corinne wrote letters from prison every few months.
Adrian kept them.
Junie had not read them.
Someday she might.
Someday she might not.
That choice would belong to her.
Brooks Marine had changed too.
The company established the Naomi Brooks Ethics and Accountability Fund, financing legal and forensic support for small suppliers facing predatory contract practices.
Raymond helped design it.
Avery insisted the website remove the phrase empowering stakeholder transparency because, in her words, “No human being has ever said that while alive.”
Adrian agreed.
Marcus remained in federal prison.
His name appeared less often in newspapers now.
That was another lesson.
People who once dominated entire lives eventually became paragraphs.
The ferry left the dock.
Junie gripped Adrian’s hand.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Too quickly.
He waited.
She looked at him.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe is good.”
The ferry moved into the harbor.
Junie watched the water.
Adrian watched her.
“You’re doing the face,” she said.
“What face?”
“The worried dad face.”
“I have no such face.”
“You do.”
Danielle, behind them, said, “He absolutely does.”
“Traitor.”
Junie laughed.
A gull swept overhead.
She pointed.
“Daddy!”
“I see it.”
“It’s following us.”
The words hit him.
Same sunlight.
Same water.
Same little voice.
Adrian’s chest tightened.
Junie looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You look sad.”
“Just remembering something.”
“Bad?”
“Some bad.”
“And?”
He looked at her.
“Some good.”
The ferry crossed calm water toward a small island park.
When they arrived, Junie ran toward a snack stand with Danielle.
“Lemonade!”
Adrian called, “Walking feet!”
“I am walking fast!”
“That’s called running!”
Raymond stood beside him.
“She’s funny.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Gets it from you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Raymond smiled.
Their relationship was not friendship.
Maybe it never would be.
It was something quieter.
Two men who had finally stopped needing each other to be villains.
Junie came running back.
“Daddy, they have strawberry!”
“Excellent.”
“Can I get one?”
“Of course.”
“You come.”
“I need to talk to Grandpa Raymond for one second.”
She stopped.
Something tiny moved across her face.
Most people would not have noticed.
Adrian did.
Fear was quieter now.
But it still knew old roads.
He smiled.
“I’ll be right back.”
The words left his mouth.
Everything stopped.
Junie looked at him.
Adrian heard ocean.
A scream.
His own voice shouting her name.
He saw the left cabin door.
The right door.
Two tiny hands.
Corinne standing above them.
One year collapsed into one second.
Junie did not look panicked.
Only thoughtful.
“You always say that weird.”
Adrian swallowed.
“Do I?”
“Yeah.”
She took his hand.
Adrian looked down.
Her fingers were bigger now.
Still small.
Still his whole world.
He turned to Raymond.
“Conversation later?”
Raymond smiled.
“Go get strawberry lemonade.”
Adrian looked back at Junie.
“Change of plan.”
“What?”
He crouched until they were eye level.
“I don’t need to be right back.”
Junie tilted her head.
“Why?”
He squeezed her hand.
“Because I’m right here.”
For a moment she simply looked at him.
Then she smiled.
Not the nervous smile she had used for months after the yacht.
Not the careful smile she gave therapists and police officers and adults who asked whether she was doing better.
This was Junie’s old smile.
Bright.
Immediate.
Sunshine.
“Okay,” she said.
They walked to the lemonade stand together.
Junie ordered strawberry.
Adrian ordered regular.
She tasted his and made a face.
“Yours is sour.”
“It’s lemonade.”
“Mine’s better.”
“You say that because yours is basically liquid candy.”
“Exactly.”
They carried their cups toward the railing.
High railing.
Safe railing.
Junie stopped several feet away.
Adrian let her decide.
She moved closer.
One step.
Then another.
She put one hand against the metal bar.
Adrian’s instinct screamed to grab her.
He didn’t.
He stayed beside her.
Junie looked down at the harbor.
The water moved gently below.
Her fingers tightened once.
Then relaxed.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not scared right now.”
Adrian’s throat closed.
He looked at the same ocean that had nearly taken her.
The ocean had not changed.
Water had no apology to offer.
The difference was Junie.
And maybe him.
“That’s pretty amazing,” he said.
She shrugged with exaggerated sophistication.
“I’m five.”
“Right. Ancient.”
She leaned against his side.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Behind them, Danielle argued with Raymond about sunscreen.
A ferry horn sounded.
Somewhere a child laughed.
Ordinary sounds.
Adrian had once believed a successful life was built from extraordinary things.
Companies.
Deals.
Houses.
Yachts.
Headlines.
Naomi had understood better.
A life was built from ordinary promises.
Listen.
Come home.
Tell the truth.
Hold on.
Stay.
Junie slipped her hand into his.
Adrian closed his fingers around hers.
Not because she was falling.
Because she wasn’t.
And this time, neither of them had to hold on for dear life.
They simply held hands.
Together.
May you like
Right there.
THE END
