Epilogue
Ian dumped the contents of the drawer onto the bed. The books he had kept from his days at university, and the few he’d bought or had been given since fell onto the woolen blanket. He lifted first one, then another, and another, scanning the titles, wondering which one was of interest to Sarah. No, he thought, she kept the one that interested her.
So which title in his paltry collection did she take? It was difficult to tell. It had been so long since he’d taken a book out to read. He looked over all of the volumes spread out on the bed and concluded he’d never figure it out. The one book on poetry he had was still here, and it was the only book he remembered her reading while she was aboard.
Heavy-booted footfalls in the narrow gangway alerted him to Lucky’s arrival. Since Ian
