Again, he nodded. “I recognized you the day I met you. Your father keeps a picture of you on his desk. You were a bit younger, but still ... you.”
Scout’s throat tightened. She was probably fourteen or fifteen years old in that picture. Maisie’s age. Still in that awkward stage. She pressed her chin against her knees, trying to process his words. “You could’ve said something,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You could’ve told me.”
He seemed at a loss to know what to say. “I’m sorry. I should have. At first, I didn’t know if I should tell you more, then I didn’t know how to.”
That was something, she supposed. It was honest.
She hesitated before asking the question that had been burning inside her since the moment she’d seen her father. “Doeshe ... do you think he has any regrets? Leaving his family, I mean?”Leaving me?
Naki’s expression was thoughtful. “That’s something only he should answer. When I saw you that first day, I sensed God was up to something. Something bigger than gold or a shipwreck. He’s always in the business of restoring people. Families, especially.”
She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as tears blurred her vision.
He pushed out of the rocker and came to sit beside her on the lumpy couch, his voice firm but full of compassion. “Scout, would you be willing to see your father? Will you talk to him?”
She turned to him, her emotions a swirl of disbelief, fear, and something else she couldn’t quite name. “You are asking a lot, sir.”
“I am. But some things are worth the asking.” He smiled, faint but certain.
Scout thought of the waves she’d been watching at Sand Beach just a few hours ago. She watched them roll in, persistent and unrelenting. Her heart felt like those waves—pulling her forward, pulling her back, never quite settling. She let out a long, trembling breath. “Honestly, I just don’t know if I can.”
Naki reached out to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Just be open to it. The Lord has already started this work, Scout. Trust him to finish it.” He let out a breath. “We’ve needed your father’s help on this hunt.” He rose to leave, then stopped at the door and turned back. “You don’t read much?”
What?“I do read. A lot.” She didn’t even have a TV or iPad.
His gaze swept the small room. “The bookshelves are empty.”
“Kindle. Saves paper. Saves trees.”
His forehead furrowed. “It looks like no one lives here.”
Scout looked around the room. Come to think of it, it did look a little ... sparse. “I ... work a lot.”
His head bobbed, as if to say, of course. “Like your father.”
Ohno. “I amnothinglike him,” she said.
But Naki had already gone.
Tim hung up the phone and exhaled. He’d put off this call as long as he could, but he finally made himself do it before he left his office for the evening. He’d been bracing for a reprimand—maybe even a full-blown lecture—about keeping the hidden gold under wraps for the last few days. With the hoopla about to descend on the park, he figured Superintendent Doreen Campbell would be furious. Instead, Doreen had listened, paused, asked a few more questions, and then sounded downright giddy.
Reservations at the park had been drastically down for the start of summer due to the persistent rain they’d been having. So were tickets and tours. She’d been racking her brain for ways to boost tourism. This, she told Tim, was a dream come true.
Really? Tim thought. It sounded more like a nightmare.
And, sure enough, it was soon shaping up to be one. The superintendent had gleefully handed him the job of calling in every off-duty ranger and park maintenance worker for the entire Fourth of July weekend. Because nothing said happy holiday like canceling your plans to babysit gold-hungry tourists.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in.”
Maisie poked her head in, eyes bright with excitement. “Busy?”
“Never too busy for you,” he said, though he absolutely was.
She stepped in, shifting on her feet. “Pops, I just got off the phone with Mom. She’s coming to Acadia.”
Tim cleared his throat. Thea was coming here? Had she lost her job? Was she even working? He’d lost track. He loved his stepdaughter—he truly did—but progress in her life wasslow. Two steps forward, one step (or sometimes three) back. “When?” He braced himself.Please don’t say this week.
“Sometime this week,” Maisie said. “And she wants to stay with us.”
