That moment came several weeks later. Caleb was sorting his travel supplies for a visit to his grandmother when he asked whether Karen had ever said she was sorry. Nina told him that a letter had arrived and asked if he wanted to hear what it said. Caleb thought about it for a while.
Then he said, "Maybe after we get back. I don't want to think about her on the trip." Nina agreed and placed the letter in a safe drawer. It would be there if he ever wanted it, and he would not be required to want it.
The visit to Los Angeles had taken on the weight of a personal milestone. Caleb wanted to fly again, and this time he asked to travel with his mother. Nina arranged a small aircraft through a charter service for the journey, choosing a familiar crew and a quiet departure. She knew that being able to do so was a privilege many families did not possess. She also knew her son's recovery did not have to become a test of whether he could return immediately to the circumstances in which he had been hurt.
On the morning of departure, Caleb woke before his alarm. He checked his backpack twice, making sure the astronomy guide, sketchbook, and paperback mystery novel were inside. The torn letter had been repaired with clear tape and was tucked into the back of his desk drawer. He had not decided whether to keep it forever. For now, he wanted it somewhere safe, where no one could take it away without asking.
Nina found him standing by the kitchen window, watching the first light creep across the lawn. He was wearing the same gray sweater from Flight 617. She asked if he wanted to change, careful not to suggest that the sweater carried bad luck. Caleb shook his head.
"I like it," he said. "She didn't get to ruin my favorite sweater." Nina smiled and kissed the top of his head.
At the hangar, Graham greeted them without his usual stack of paperwork. The revised travel plan had been reviewed by independent child-safety advisers, and the operating crew knew exactly who was responsible for each part of the journey. Graham asked Caleb whether he wanted a full explanation or a simple summary. Caleb chose the summary, then checked that his mother would sit beside him. It was a small request and a reasonable one.
Michael Royce arrived with a message from the foundation's working group. The voluntary ethics charter had gained additional participants, and several airlines had begun publishing independent progress reports. He asked whether Nina wanted to make a public announcement to coincide with the flight. She declined.
"Today we're going to see his grandmother," she said. "That is the whole announcement." Michael nodded and put the tablet away.
Caleb climbed the aircraft steps slowly. The smell of leather and coffee brought back a sudden, unwelcome memory of the first-class cabin at Dallas Fort Worth. He stopped halfway and gripped the railing. Nina, standing behind him, asked whether he wanted to go back. He shook his head, waited until his breathing settled, and climbed the remaining steps. The crew welcomed him by name and showed him his seat without asking him to prove that he belonged.