Page 115 of Endless Depths

He casually leans against the dining table and gives a meaningful look at the duffle Morgan left on the bench. “What did you bring me for Christmas?”

Morgan looks at me, feigning confusion. “You got him something, right?”

“What about the gift of our presence?” I ask.

Finn’s eyes narrow.

Morgan unzips the duffle stuffed with gifts. “Do you really think we’d forget to pay the Finn tax?”

Finn gasps, eyes wide, then pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout. “That’s a lot of presents. What about Santa?”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We saved a few things from your list for him.”

“You can open one.” Morgan pulls out a gift box wrapped in paper patterned with orcas frolicking in a sea of northern lights. “The rest of these are going under the tree.”

On the week-long commute back from Alaska, Morgan and I did a lot of shopping.

“Let’s open it on the couch,” Morgan says, then places the gift before Finn like an offering once we’re seated on either side of him.

Finn unwraps the box slowly, solemnly sliding his fingers under the tape like he wants to save the wrapping paper.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We have a whole roll of that stuff. Go ahead and hulk out.”

He smiles and tears the rest of it open, then lifts the lid. “Wow! An orca!” He pulls out the stuffed animal almost as big as a pillow, the perfect size for him to hug as he grows.

“Not just any orca,” I say. “That’s Springer. She’s an orphan who got lost not too far from here when she was only two years old. She was strong and took care of herself, but it was really hard for her to be alone. Orcas, like people, need friendship and family.” I smile at Morgan. I picked out this gift because Springer’s story reminds me a hell of a lot of him. “Scientists and people who love orcas helped her find a new family so she would never be alone again.”

“What happened to her?” Finn asks.

“She’s still out there somewhere with her family, only a few hours from here. There’s a book underneath so we can read all about her. Maybe one day we can even go look for her.”

“We can?”

“Yep. If we’re lucky, we might not have to go farther than the ferry. That’s where people saw her the first time.” I inhale slowly and marshal my courage. “Your Springer is special. When you squeeze her, she plays a recording of your daddy’s voice with a message he wanted you to hear if he died.”

Morgan reaches across the back of the couch and squeezes my shoulder. I was nervous to say the d-word, but he explained how important it is to talk about death in clear terms for kids Finn’s age.

Seb never told us about the message he recorded. Morgan andI found it while searching for pictures to include in a gift we made for Finn—a book filled with stories about Seb told by his fisherman friends. Like any fishing tale, the stories are embellished, but they paint Seb as the hero he’s always been, and will preserve his memory for Finn.

“Do you want to try it?” Morgan asks.

“If you’re not ready, that’s okay too,” I add.

Finn nods, and hugs the stuffed orca.

Seb’s voice rings out. “Hey, Finny.”

Finn’s brows lift quizzically. He hugs the orca again.

“You only have to hug it once,” Morgan says.

Finn gives him a condescending look that all but saysI’ll squeeze the orca however many times I want.

“I miss you so much, and I love you even more,” Seb continues. “I’m sorry that you’re missing me too. I promise I did everything I could to come back home to you.” Seb clears his throat. “Talking to you is the best part of my day, and I wonder if maybe you could still talk to me? It doesn’t matter where or when, or whether you talk to me out loud or in your head, I’ll be listening, and don’t forget…” His breath gusts against the mic. “If you miss me, you can find me in the little things—the soft silence of drizzle, the long night of winter, the warm sun on your face, the slow fall of rain. Find me in the puddles on the streets, especially when lights glimmer in them like gems. Find me in the waves lapping at the dock, in a bell ringing, whether it’s attached to a ship or not. Find me in the flap of a bird’s wings, or a butterfly’s. Find me in every living thing, and in everything that reminds you of me, because even though I can’t be with you, I will never leave you completely. I love you, Finny.”

Silence falls. Tears slide down Finn’s pink cheeks. “Daddy used to tell me that every night when he was fishing.” He strokes the soft plush on Springer’s head and squeezes it again. “Can I have a hug, Uncle Cole? You remind me of Daddy the most.”

“Of course.” I turn on the couch toward him and open myarms, expecting a simple hug, but Finn climbs into my lap and rests his chest against me, and then his head.