The Pacific Ocean was afire with colour as the sun dipped into it. Golds, corals, and on the tips of the dancing waves, silvery white. Along the vast stretch of Long Beach, silhouettes of walkers and surfers cast long shadows up the sand. People strolled hand in hand, children chased each other, and dogs raced down the sand, ears flying.
“My God, this is beautiful,” Chris murmured.
He had looped his backpack over his shoulder, saying he thought he might try a swim. They had taken off their sandals and were walking barefoot in the surf, which tickled their toes every time it rushed in. Kaylee had found a small piece of driftwood to play with in the waves.
A lingering tension hung between them. A question unanswered. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it, trying to reassure him that all would turn out well, all the while fighting her own nagging doubts. She knew he had told Saint-Laurent nothing about her visit to Luke, and she knew what it was costing him.
She heard a shout and turned to see a young man jogging along the beach toward them, carrying a large, bulky package. As he drew near, she recognized Gilligan. Her momentary alarm disappeared at the sight of his big grin.
“I’m glad I found you,” he gasped once he reached their side. “Mr. Keenan told me you might be here. This afternoon, Luke paddled his canoe into Maaqtusiis and turned himself in to our tribal police. Sergeant Saint-Laurent is on his way over there to talk to him.”
Amanda felt as if she was floating, so great was the weight that lifted off her shoulders. She could hardly catch her breath as she turned to Chris. He, too, was smiling. The cloud between them had lifted.
Gilligan handed her the package. “He wanted you to have this. He said I should make sure you still want it and give it to Nancy if you don’t.”
She took the package and walked over to a nearby driftwood log to unwrap it. She already knew what it was. She looked at the sunlit field, the boiling charcoal sky, and the vivid oranges of fire licking at the edge. At the glint of honey gold in the woman’s hair and the child running toward her out of the fire.
“Good God,” Chris breathed.
“Do you still want it?” Gilligan asked.
She looked around at the beach. At the sunset now gilding the sand and the people walking hand in hand. At the outstretched arms in the painting. Running away from fire, yes, but running toward safety.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “It’s scary, it’s my journey, but ultimately it’s about hope.”
After Gilligan left, Amanda rewrapped the painting with reverence. Chris took it, leaned it against the log, and put his arm around her. “It’s going to transform our living room.”
“Are you okay with that?” He didn’t know it, but it was the most important question she’d ever asked him.
He looked down at her, and his expression grew intense. Maybe he did know after all. He nodded. “I have my own present for you, in my backpack. But there’s a caveat. Only open it if you trust me.”
She unzipped his knapsack and rummaged past the shoes, bathing suit, and towel to pull out a cardboard box. Opening it, she found a mini bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes. She grinned at him.
“Champagne on a sunset beach. Perfect.”
“There’s more. Inside the glass.”
When she extracted one of the glasses, a small, silver-wrapped package fell out into the sand. She unwrapped it. Seconds ticked by. She took a deep breath.
“Yes,” she said, slipping the ring on her finger.