Chapter 28 - The Uncharted Channel
The morning paper was still lying on the porch steps the next day, crusted with a thin layer of overnight frost. The headline across the front page of the *Washington Herald* read: **NAVY COLONEL INDICTED IN PROCUREMENT FRAUD SCANDAL; STRIPPED OF RANK AND NOMINATION FOLLOWING DRAMATIC SENATE HEARING.** Below it was a grainy photograph of Julian being led out of the Russell Building by federal marshals, his head bowed, his dress-blue uniform missing its insignia and service ribbons.
I picked up the paper, tossed it straight into the recycling bin by the door without opening it, and walked back inside to the warmth of the kitchen.
The coffee was already brewing, filling the room with that rich, dark aroma of morning and survival. On the wooden table, right beside the brass lamp, rested the four small pairs of polished children's shoes, lined up side by side just as they had been on the day of the storm.
From the hallway came the sound of running feet—four pairs of sneakers pounding against the old pine floorboards in a chaotic, joyful race to see who could reach the breakfast table first.
"Mom! Benjamin took my spoon!" Clara yelled, sliding around the doorframe with her hair sticking up in every direction.
"I didn't take it, it was on my side of the table!" Benjamin protested, skidding to a halt right behind her with Leo and Grace hot on his heels.
I stood by the stove, flipping a stack of golden pancakes onto a large ceramic platter, feeling the warmth of the cast-iron skillet against my hands and the steady, unbreakable rhythm of the house around me.
"Sit down, all of you," I said, my voice warm and steady as I set the plate in the center of the table. "Eat your breakfast. We have a boat to paint before the tide comes in."
May you like
They scrambled into their chairs with a clatter of wooden legs and a chorus of excited chatter, their small hands reaching out for syrup and butter without a single care in the world.
I looked out the window above the sink. Beyond the marsh grass and the old wooden dock, the open waters of the Chesapeake stretched all the way to the horizon, gray and endless under a clear, winter sky, waiting for whatever wind was coming next.
