When they reached the county roads near the Blackbird Diner, Nolan found himself turning toward it without having decided to. Elias noticed the movement but didn't ask. The neon sign was visible from a distance, its orange bird flickering against the early evening sky. The parking lot was full of motorcycles. Some were the same machines Nolan had seen on his first visit; others belonged to riders who had come from farther away after hearing that something unusual had happened. The diner windows were warm and fogged, and the familiar smell of cooking drifted into the night each time the door opened.
Nolan parked beside the line of bikes. Elias sat looking through the windshield at the people inside, his hands resting flat on his knees. For the first time since leaving Marrow's Gap, he looked genuinely frightened.
"You don't have to go in right now," Nolan said.
"I know." Elias stared at the raven emblem on a cut visible through the window. "But if I keep waiting until I'm ready, I'll wait another twenty-two years."
They stepped into the cold and crossed the lot together. Nolan pushed open the door, and the bell rang above them in exactly the same way it had on the night he first walked in. The sound was ordinary, but what followed was not. Thirty-two men were seated around the long table, their conversations overlapping in the comfortable disorder of a familiar place. The waitress stood behind the counter with a coffee pot in her hand. A few riders looked up at Nolan and smiled in recognition.
Then they saw the man behind him. Voices faded in stages, leaving only the soft music coming from the kitchen radio. Someone near the far end of the table rose halfway from his chair and sat down again, as if he no longer trusted his own legs. Silas stood at the head of the table. His eyes moved over Elias's face, the white hair, the lines time had carved, the shoulders that remained recognizable from the photograph. He looked as though he were afraid to move in case the sight disappeared.
"Elias?" he said.
Elias stepped fully into the diner. "Hello, Silas."
For a moment Silas did nothing. Then he pushed back his chair and crossed the length of the room, no longer moving with the deliberate restraint Nolan had come to associate with him. Elias went toward him, and the two men met beside the counter. Silas wrapped both arms around his oldest friend. Elias held him just as tightly. Neither spoke, and neither seemed interested in turning the embrace into something brief enough to be dignified in front of other people.
Around the table, the riders stood quietly. Boon lowered his head, his hands clasped before him. Decker stared toward the window until he could trust his face again, while Reyes stayed seated with his palms on the table and watched the reunion with an expression that was almost peaceful.
Eventually Silas pulled back. "You stubborn son of a gun," he said hoarsely. "You couldn't send one letter?"
"Would you have believed it?"
"I would have wanted to." Silas wiped at his eyes before anybody could pretend not to see. "I'm sorry, Elias. I'm sorry for what I didn't do."