Part 7
Three months later, the Merritt River still carried warning signs along the southern bank.
Cleanup barges worked behind floating barriers, and sampling crews visited every week. Caleb transported them in the Cora May for an hourly rate that covered a berth at the municipal pier and most of Rook’s medicine.
He never handled samples unless asked. Rook never worked at all.
The shepherd spent mornings on a padded mat inside the cabin and afternoons watching gulls through the open door. High tide still made him restless. When chain struck metal anywhere along the waterfront, his body went rigid before he could decide whether the sound belonged to the present.
Caleb no longer told him there was nothing to fear. He sat nearby until Rook chose what to do with the fear himself.
Elena came every Sunday with a thermos and something the veterinarian had forbidden Caleb to feed the dog. Izzy occasionally joined them, though she was usually late and always brought corrected pages from the Ledger.
Wes’s name appeared less often as the legal case slowed into motions, hearings, and delays. Maya’s did not disappear with it.
One cold morning, Caleb woke before dawn and checked the Cora May’s bow line. He pulled it once, inspected the knot, and moved to the stern.
The old pressure rose behind his left ear. For years, he would have returned to the bow, then checked both lines again until the count felt safe.
Rook watched from the cabin.
Caleb left the knot alone.
Fog covered the far bank. The southern gantry had been removed, but a bright monitoring buoy now marked the water above Brace Twelve. Its low bell reached Caleb as vibration more than sound.
Rook stepped onto the deck. He paused at the stern ladder, breathed against the cold air, and continued past it.
Caleb did not praise him. He rested one hand against the shepherd’s side and felt the steady movement of his ribs.
A voice came from the pier.
Caleb missed the first call. Rook’s notched ear turned toward shore.
Elena stood beneath the dock light with a thermos raised in one hand.
Caleb gave the bow line one firm pull and left it alone. Then he turned with Rook and raised his hand to her through the fog.