Neither was he.
Nadia stood several feet away.
She watched father and daughter studying the bridge together.
Something inside her shifted.
Not healed.
She disliked the word healed.
Some things didn't return to their original form.
Structures under stress changed.
They developed cracks.
Load paths shifted.
Supports failed.
Other members carried more weight.
Sometimes the solution wasn't restoration.
Sometimes it was redesign.
She thought of her father.
James Vale.
His unfinished file still sat in a box in her apartment.
For years she had refused to open it.
She told herself there was nothing left to do.
Maybe that was true legally.
But perhaps finishing did not always mean winning a case.
Perhaps sometimes finishing meant reading the last page someone else never had the chance to explain.
That evening, Nadia went home.
She opened the closet.
Pulled out the box.
Placed it on the kitchen table.
For several minutes, she did nothing.
Then she lifted the lid.
Back at Cole's house, Ruby placed the Bridge Corridor model on a shelf in her room.
Cole stood in the doorway.
"The left side bothers me."
"The missing piece?"
"Yes."
"It held."
"That's not the point."
Ruby smiled.
"You're definitely an engineer."
"Was."
"Are."
Cole looked at her.
"You own a construction company."
"Different."
"You designed the project."
"A long time ago."
"You still stare at bridges when we drive."
"I inspect them."
"Normal people don't inspect bridges from the passenger seat."
Cole smiled.
Ruby sat on the edge of her bed.
"Are you happy?"
The question surprised him.
He leaned against the doorframe.
"I think so."
"You think?"
"It's new."
Ruby laughed softly.
Cole looked toward the bridge model.
"For a long time I had one objective."
"Get them."
"Not exactly."
"Kind of."
"Kind of."
"And now?"
"I don't know."
Ruby considered that.
"You could just be my dad."
Cole looked at her.
She said it casually.
Almost carelessly.
But Cole knew his daughter.
She chose words with precision.
"I'd like that."
"Good."
She opened her homework.
Conversation over.
Cole stepped into the hall.
Then Ruby called after him.
"Dad?"
He turned.
"I'm glad you came back."
Cole stood very still.
Seven years earlier, a seven-year-old girl had appeared in an upstairs window while her father sat in a car across the street.
He had driven away because he believed returning later with his life rebuilt would somehow justify leaving.
He finally understood that nothing justified all of it.
Some of those missing years would remain missing.
Recitals.
School pickups.
Ordinary dinners.