Chapter 11 - THE MAN AT THE END OF THE ROAD
Astoria, Oregon, was nothing like Chicago.
The air smelled of salt.
The streets were quiet.
The river stretched toward the ocean.
I arrived with Adrien on a rainy afternoon.
We had spent days following leads.
Old property records.
Employment documents.
Phone numbers.
Finally, we found an address.
A small repair shop near the waterfront.
I stood outside.
My hands shook.
Adrien looked at me.
"Ready?"
I shook my head.
"No."
He nodded.
"We can wait."
I looked through the window.
An older man stood beside a workbench.
Gray hair.
Broad shoulders.
A familiar way of leaning over an engine.
My breath caught.
"Dad?"
The word escaped before I could stop it.
The man looked up.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then his face changed.
He dropped the wrench.
I opened the door.
"Sophie?"
His voice was older.
Rougher.
But unmistakable.
I began crying.
He stepped toward me.
I ran.
We collided in the middle of the shop.
He held me so tightly I could barely breathe.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I sobbed.
"You're alive."
He nodded.
"I'm alive."
I pulled back.
"Why didn't you come home?"
His eyes filled.
"Because I thought they'd hurt you."
I shook my head.
"We needed you."
He began crying.
"I know."
For a long time, neither of us moved.
May you like
Then I hugged him again.
And the twelve years I'd spent believing he was dead became something I would need a lifetime to understand.
