44.
STORM
"The greatest treasures aren't hidden in the sea. They're hidden in the promises we keep."
— James Sinclair
No one spoke.
The old boathouse had become impossibly still.
Even the waves seemed quieter, gently lapping against the weathered dock outside.
Thomas carefully lifted James's first journal from the steel box.
The leather was cracked with age.
He ran his fingers across the cover before handing it to me.
"Your grandfather wrote every night."
I smiled through my tears.
"He always kept a journal."
Thomas nodded.
"He said the sea could steal a man's memories."
"But paper never forgets."
I opened the cover.
Written in Grandpa's familiar handwriting were the words:
To my girls...
My vision blurred.
I swallowed hard and continued reading aloud.
If you're holding this journal, then I've failed.
I prayed none of you would ever have to know what I've hidden.
I wanted your lives to be filled with sunrises, dolphins, and family trips aboard Sea Whisper—not the darkness I've carried. I tried keeping it away, but evil has a way of creeping back in.
A tear slid down my cheek.
Calle quietly wiped at her own eyes.
Even Ivy looked away for a moment.
Thomas smiled sadly.
"That was James."
"He never worried about himself."
"Only the people he loved."
I turned the page.
Storm...
If you're reading this, I know you'll be trying to carry everyone by yourself.
Don't.
You've always believed protecting your sisters means carrying every burden alone.
It doesn't.
Let them help you.
That's what family is for.
I couldn't read another word.
Grandpa...
Even years later...
He still knew me.
Thomas looked toward Calle.
"He wrote something for each of you."
Calle's eyes widened.
"For us?"
Thomas nodded.
"He finished these journals a few weeks before he died."
Ivy stepped closer.
"He knew."
Thomas's face became solemn.
"I believe James knew his time was running out."
Nathan stood near the doorway, staring out across the cove.
He hadn't said a word since learning about his father.
Thomas quietly walked over beside him.
"You loved your father."
Nathan nodded without looking at him.
"More than anyone."
"I'm sorry."
Nathan let out a slow breath.
"So am I."
Thomas rested one hand on the railing.
"I spent years hating him."
Nathan closed his eyes.
"I don't blame you."
"But somewhere along the way..."
Thomas smiled sadly.
"...I realized hatred only keeps old wounds open."
Nathan finally looked at him.
"I don't know what to do. I’m sixty, and I don’t know what to do."
Thomas answered without hesitation.
"You do exactly what you've been doing."
Nathan frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You honor James."
"You protect these girls."
"You finish what your father failed to do."
Nathan's shoulders slowly relaxed.
"I think..."
His voice caught.
"I think James already forgave me."
Thomas nodded.
"James never blamed you. That’s why he never told you."
Ward stood just outside the boathouse, giving everyone their privacy.
His eyes scanned the cove.
Always alert.
Always watching.
I stepped outside beside him.
"The Coast Guard?"
"They've secured the area."
I looked out over the sparkling water.
"It almost looks peaceful."
"It won't stay that way."
"No."
We stood in silence.
Finally, I smiled.
"You've been protecting us since the day you stepped aboard Sea Whisper."
Ward looked toward the horizon.
"I couldn't do anything else."
I noticed the sadness in his eyes.
He wasn't just thinking about today.
He was thinking about tomorrow.
About Hawaii.
About the life waiting for him.
Neither of us said another word.
Some feelings didn't need words.
Not yet. Maybe never.
Behind us, Thomas carefully gathered the remaining journals.
"There are seven."
Ben looked surprised.
"Seven?"
Thomas smiled.
"James always said..."
"...every important story takes time to tell."
He held up the final journal.
"And this one..."
"...contains the name of the man Charles Ashford fears."
A chill settled over the room.
Thomas looked at each of us.
"But once you know that name..."
"...there will be no turning back."