Page 252 of Hidden Depths

47

STORM

"If you ever lose your way, remember this...home isn't where you tie the boat. Home is who waits

for you when you return."

— James Sinclair

Thomas never took his eyes off the photograph.

His weathered hands trembled.

Not from age.

From memory.

I had never seen an eighty-six-year-old man look frightened.

Ward quietly laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Thomas."

No response.

Ben stepped closer.

"Who is he?"

Thomas's breathing grew shallow.

Finally, he reached out and turned the photograph facedown on the workbench.

"I won't."

His voice was barely a whisper.

"I won't look at him."

Silence filled the boathouse.

Nathan frowned.

"Thomas..."

The old sailor slowly raised his eyes.

"For eighty-six years I've tried to be an honest man."

He swallowed.

"But there is one promise I've never broken."

He looked at each of us.

"I have never spoken his name."

I felt a chill creep up my spine.