I reached across the coffee table and gently took her hand in mine.
“She never stopped thinking about us,” I whispered. “And my dad never stopped looking.”
The sun dipped low, casting gold across Ellie’s hair. Birds chirped in the trees. It was so peaceful—too peaceful for everything I felt.
“I guess that makes us family,” I said, trying to smile.
Ellie nodded.
“Yeah. I guess it does.”
We hugged, long and tight, like people trying to make up for years they never shared.
Caleb watched from the porch, his arms crossed, his eyes soft.
“My dad spent his whole life searching,” I said. “He died one step away from the truth.
From this.”
“Maybe it is.”
As we drove home later that evening, I looked out the window and thought of Dad.
Of all the time he spent hoping, searching, believing.
And even though he didn’t get to knock on that door himself, I did.
And now I knew.
He was right not to give up.
And somehow, in some quiet, mysterious way…
Family, at last.
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