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again now—the wind whipping her face, the sharp scent of seawater, the porpoises wheeling through the water, and her children, kneeling on the bow, lost in wonder.
    If only Matt could see this, Susannah thought. In spite of all the arguments over the last year, she missed him. She could draw every line of his face with her eyes closed, from the scar on his right cheekbone to the lopsided angle of his smile. The feel of his body against hers was as familiar as the feel of her own tongue against her teeth. They had known each other for thirty-nine years, since that first summer at Camp Chingwa, and been married for seventeen. This next month until he came to visit would be the longest they’d been apart in twenty years. She remembered a time early in their marriage when she’d gone away for work and Matt had mailed a postcard to her every day, just as he used to do when they were kids in the week before camp. Matt didn’t talk much about feelings or longings, so she was surprised by what he wrote, things like: “It’s raining here, and I miss you. Your pillow still smells like you. COME HOME.”
    She wondered if he was lonely. She wondered, all at once, if he would still his loneliness with someone else in her absence. The thought startled her so much she almost fell off the boat.
    The porpoises twisted, dove. The cold spray from the wake splashed against Susannah’s cheeks. Then, just as quickly as they had come, the porpoises shot away, disappearing into the darkening water.
    Jim popped his head up through the skylight in the roof of the wheelhouse.
    â€œHey gang,” he shouted. “Look up.”
    Susannah raised her eyes. She could see an island in the distance. It was shaped like the tail of a dragon, low and close to the water on one end, slowly rising to a thick, solid mass on the other end. She saw sand dunes along the low shore, backed by the sharp silhouettes of cedars and firs, and huge, clay-colored cliffs at the other end, with bright patches of orange lichen, and thick moss covering the rocks below. At the top of the cliff, at the end of the island, she could just make out a shape perched there—not a tree, or a cabin, but something else. It almost looked like a boat, although obviously no one would perch a boat on top of a cliff. But before she could figure it out, Jim’s voice broke in.
    â€œThar she blows,” he said. “Welcome to Sounder.”

Chapter 4
    Susannah 2011
    Betty Pavalak’s skin looked like a piece of paper that had been crumpled and then carefully unfolded and stretched over a frame, so the surface was smooth while all the lines remained. She was tall and slim, with high cheekbones, warm brown eyes, and a shock of wiry gray hair shaped in no particular style. Her wide smile revealed surprisingly even white teeth for a woman who had to be well into her seventies. The man’s plaid flannel shirt she wore hung loosely over her jeans, which were tucked into sturdy bottle green rubber boots.
    â€œHey,” Betty said, catching the rope Jim tossed to her to help pull the boat alongside the dock. Her voice was low, gravelly. “You made it.” She slipped the rope through and over one of the cleats on the dock, and then held the side of the boat steady as Susannah stepped off.
    Susannah held out her hand to Betty. “It’s so nice to have a face to put with your voice. Thanks for all you’ve done for us, in making these arrangements.”
    â€œIt was nothing,” Betty said, shaking her head. “We’re happy to have you here, believe me. And if you don’t believe me, my grandsons, who are up there at the Laundromat collecting the mail, will convince you soon enough.” She eyed Quinn and Katie, who had clambered onto the dock and were standing next to each other, looking around. Susannah noticed that Quinn stood a little closer to Katie than he usually did, and that Katie wasn’t pushing him