The wind moved through her hair.
“You know,” she said, “Thomas would have loved this.”
Caleb smiled.
“I know.”
They stood there in silence.
Then Mara looked toward the distant highway.
“Thank you for coming back.”
Caleb shook his head.
“I didn't.”
She looked at him.
“You came home.”
One year later, another storm came.
It wasn't as powerful.
It didn't destroy the roof.
It didn't break the porch.
But Mara remembered the night everything had changed.
She stood outside beneath the covered porch.
The house was strong.
The flowers had grown.
The mailbox was straight.
The kitchen was full of food.
Inside, Emily was visiting with her children.
The grandchildren were older.
The house was noisy.
Alive.
A distant rumble reached her ears.
Then came the familiar sound.
Motorcycles.
Mara smiled.
Caleb and the others appeared at the end of the road.
There were fewer riders this time.
They didn't need hundreds.
They weren't coming to rebuild anything.
They were coming for dinner.
Mara opened the gate.
Caleb removed his helmet.
“Evening, ma'am.”
She laughed.
“You're late.”
“Traffic.”
“On this road?”
“Terrible.”
She shook her head.
They gathered around the long table in the backyard.
Someone brought bread.
Someone brought dessert.
Someone brought an old photograph of Thomas.
It was placed in the center of the table.
Mara looked at it.
Then at Caleb.
“Do you still think you owe him?”
Caleb thought for a moment.