Andrew Gross - The Dark Tide

He deserved that and more.

Karen held tightly onto the hands of Samantha and Alex. This was so hard for them, harder than for anyone. They didn’t understand. How he could have kept such secrets from them? How he could just walk away, whatever he’d done? Whoever he was?

“We were a family,” Samantha said to Karen, confusion, even a measure of accusation, in her trembling voice.

“Yes, we were a family,” Karen said.

She had come to forgive him. She had even come to love him again-in a way.

We were a family. Maybe one day they would love him again, too.

The rabbi said his final prayers. Karen’s grip tightened on their hands. Her life came back to her. The day they met. How they fell in love. How one day she had said to herself he was the one.

Charlie, the captain-at the helm of the boat sailing in the Caribbean. Waving to her from their private cove at the end.

Her blood coursed with the warming current of eighteen years.

“Now it is our custom to pay our last respects to the dead by throwing a handful of dirt, reminding us that all life is transitory and humble before God.”

Her father came up. He took the shovel from the rabbi and tossed a small patch over the casket. Her mom, too. Then Charlie’s mother Margery, his brother steadying her arm. Then Rick and Paula.

Then Samantha, who did it in a quick, wounded manner, turning away, She handed the shovel to Alex, who stood over the grave for a long time, finally facing Karen and shaking his young head. “I can’t, Mom… No.”

“Honey.” Karen squeezed him tighter. “Yes you can.” Who could blame him? “It’s your father, baby, whatever he’s done.”

Finally he picked up the shovel and tossed in the dirt, sniffling back tears.

Then it was Karen’s turn. She picked up the shovelful of soil. She had already said her good-byes to him. What more was there to say?

I did love you, Charlie. And I know you loved me, too.

She tossed it in.

So it was over. Their life together. I just buried my husband today, Karen said to herself. Finally. Irrevocably. She had earned the right to say that.

Everyone came up and gave her a hug, and the three of them waited a moment while the rest started to go down the hill. Karen looped her hand through Alex’s arm. She wrapped her other around Samantha’s shoulder, bringing her close. “One day you’ll forgive him. I know it’s hard. He came back, Sam. He stood outside on the street and watched us at your graduation. You’ll forgive him. That’s what life is all about.”

As they headed back down the hill, she saw him under a leafy elm, standing off to the side. He was wearing a navy sport jacket and looked nice. Still with his cane.

Their gazes met.

Karen’s eyes filled with a warm feeling she hadn’t felt in many years.

“C’mon,” she told the kids, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”

As they approached him, Alex glanced at her, confused. “We already know Lieutenant Hauck, Mom.”

“I know you do, hon,” Karen said. She lifted her sunglasses and smiled at him. “I want you to meet him again. His name is Ty.”

Each book is a mirror reflecting the outside world, and I’d like to say thanks to the following, all of whom have brought the outside world to life for me far more vividly through the creation of The Dark Tide:

Mark Schwarzman, Roy and Robin Grossman, and Gregory Kopchinsky, for their help on hedge funds and the movement of money across continents-all aboveboard, naturally.

Kirk Dauksavage, Rick McNees, and Pete Carroll of River-glass, designers of an advanced security software far more sophisticated than that portrayed herein, for their help with information about ways the Internet is mined for national security. As one character says, “I feel safer for it.”

Vito Collucci Jr., an ex-Stamford, Connecticut, police detective turned cable news consultant, and an author in his own right, for his help on police and investigative matters.

Liz and Fred Scoponich, for who you are and for the assists on classic Mustangs, too.

Simon Lipskar of Writers House for his support, and my team at William Morrow: Lisa Gallagher, Lynn Grady, Debbie Stier, Pam Jaffee, Michael Barrs, Gabe Robinson, and, mostly, David Highfill, who throws me just enough praise to make me believe I know what I’m doing now and then, and enough direction to steer clear of my worst traits. And also Amanda Ridout and Julia Wisdom over at HarperCollins in London.

Maureen Sugden, once again, for her diligence and steadfastness in waging the good fight against italics.

To my wife, Lynn, with me every step of the way, and who always lifts me up to do my best.

But mostly to Kristen, Matt, and Nick, whom I am more proud of now, for who they’ve become as adults in the world, than all the dance recitals, college acceptances, and squash matches of their youth. Your reflection is on every page.

ANDREW GROSS is the author of the New York Times and international bestseller The Blue Zone and coauthor of five number one bestselling novels with James Patterson. He lives in Westchester County, New York, with his wife, Lynn. They have three children. To learn more about him, visit www.andrewgrossbooks.com or www.myspace.com/ andrewgrossbooks.