Elena glanced toward Lily and Ben. “I should have asked more questions before agreeing to deliver the box.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I could have asked *you* before bringing it to your door.”
I had no answer. The children were calling for me from the entrance to the boardwalk, and I went to them.
We watched the sun sink toward the water. Ben grew sleepy against my shoulder. Lily sat beside him, holding the white shell she had saved from the castle.
“Grandpa said you can’t see where the ocean ends,” she said.
“He was right.”
She looked at the long, bright line where the water met the sky. “I can see where it looks like it ends.”
“That’s called the horizon.”
“Horizon,” she repeated, trying out the word. “I’m glad we came.”
I kissed the top of her head. “So am I.”
On the way back, we passed a little gift shop. Lily chose a postcard for George. Ben insisted on choosing a second one because his drawing would need more space. In the room, they worked side by side at the desk until Ben fell asleep with a crayon in his hand.
Lily stayed awake.
She watched me move the postcards out of the way and said, “The lady downstairs knows Dad.”
I stopped.
“What makes you think that?”
“When she gave us the blankets, she looked sad when she saw my face. People at the hospital do that when they know us.”
I sat beside her. Lily had Chris’s dark eyes. She had learned to notice far more than a child should have to.
“Your dad helped pay for this room,” I told her. “The manager knows him because he came here.”
Lily looked toward the open balcony door. “Did he see the ocean?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know we wanted to?”
“He did.”
She considered that. “Is he coming?”
“I don’t know.”
She lowered her eyes to her hands. “Ben keeps saying he doesn’t care. He does.”
“I know.”
“I care, too.” Her voice became very small. “But if he comes, he has to stay long enough for Ben to ask his question.”
I remembered Ben at the top of our stairs.
“When are you coming back?”
Chris had left him waiting for an answer for months.
“If your dad comes,” I said, “you can tell him what you need to say. I’ll be with you.”
Lily climbed into bed beside her brother. I stayed until she fell asleep, then sat at the desk and turned over the blue box in my hands. The second envelope was still there.
I did not open the children’s letter. Lily and Ben could decide whether they wanted to hear what Chris had written when the time came. I put the box back in the drawer.
The next morning, my phone rang while the twins were finishing breakfast. It was my father.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me,” he said.
“So have I.”
“Claire, when I called Chris about Ben, I left a message saying he needed to talk to you. I never mentioned the ocean.”
I looked up. Lily was showing Ben how to balance a strawberry on his spoon.
“How did he know?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“He said in his letter that he wanted them to see it.”
My father hesitated. “Maybe you mentioned it in your message.”
“I didn’t. Ben asked about the ocean weeks after I called Chris.”
Neither of us spoke.
“I can call him,” my father said at last.
“No. I’ll do it.”
I waited until the children were resting. Then I stepped onto the balcony with my phone and dialed the number I had almost deleted a hundred times.
Chris answered.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
“Claire?” His voice was rough.
“How did you know the twins wanted to see the ocean?”
He went quiet.
“Chris.”
“Your father called me again,” he said.
“He says he didn’t.”
“He did.”
I looked through the glass at the children asleep inside. “Don’t make me choose which of you is lying.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Then when did he call?”
“About three weeks ago. He said Ben and Lily wanted to see the ocean, and he was taking them. He asked if I would help with the hotel.”
My father had told me the money came from his savings. He had sounded genuinely surprised when I said Chris paid for the room. I could hear that surprise again.
“Why would he hide that from me?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe he knew you wouldn’t accept it.”
He was probably right about that much.
“And the box?” I asked. “Was that his idea, too?”
“No. That was mine.”
“You should have sent it to me. You should have called.”
“I know.”
I gripped the balcony rail. “Lily asked me if you’re coming.”
Chris breathed in sharply. “What did you tell her?”
“That I didn’t know.”
“I’d like to see them.”
“Do you understand what happens if you walk into their lives and leave again?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you do. You didn’t see what it did to Ben. Lily still watches the hospital doors when she hears footsteps in the hall.”
Chris said nothing.
“I’m not promising you a visit,” I told him. “They have two days here, and I won’t let you make those days about whether you can bear to be their father.”
“You’re right.”
The answer was so quiet that I almost missed it.
“I’ll wait until you say they’re ready,” he added.
I ended the call and stayed on the balcony. Far below, families were heading toward the beach. A little boy dragged a bright green bucket through the sand. His father followed, carrying the towels he had dropped.
I called George.
He answered at once. “Is everything all right?”
“Did you call Chris three weeks ago and ask him to pay for our room?”
“Yes.”
