Everybody was coming." He pulled back enough to see Eli's face. "You didn't have to do a thing to earn that."
Deak approached, and Eli turned to him immediately. "You got hurt because of me," he said. The older man shook his head. "I got hurt because dangerous men chose to hurt people.
Don't you take their decisions home with you." He settled a heavy hand briefly on Rhett's shoulder, then looked toward the plant. "Let's not stay here any longer than we need to."
Norah arrived in a vehicle arranged by the federal coordinator after the site had been secured and medical personnel had confirmed the immediate danger was over. She stepped out before the driver had fully shut off the engine, then stopped when she saw Eli standing beside Rhett. For several seconds neither mother nor son moved. Five and a half years of separation stood between them, filled with missed birthdays, uncertain reports, fear, and choices that would take longer than a night to explain.
Eli's face crumpled first. He crossed the distance with the awkward speed of someone who had forgotten how to run toward safety, and Norah caught him against her chest. The sound she made was small and involuntary, a broken breath that carried years of grief. Rhett turned away, giving them whatever privacy an illuminated parking area could offer.
"I thought you were dead," Eli whispered. "I know," Norah said, her arms tightening. "I know, sweetheart. I'm here. I'm here now." She pulled back just far enough to look at him, touching his wet hair and thin cheeks as though checking every detail against the child she remembered.
Eli did not forgive everything in that moment. He clung to her because he had missed her, then asked why she had not come sooner, why she had allowed him to believe she was gone, and why she had not known that he was living on the street. Norah answered what she could and admitted what she could not justify. "I thought distance would keep you safe," she said. "I thought your aunt could protect you, and I was wrong about what your life had become. I'm sorry."
"You could've asked," Eli said, his voice breaking. "You could've found me." Norah nodded, tears running freely now. "I should have found a way.
I was afraid, and I let that fear make decisions I can't undo." Eli looked at her for a moment, then pressed his forehead against her coat again. "Don't go away," he whispered.
"I won't disappear without telling you where I'm going," she promised. "And when I can't protect you alone, we'll ask people for help instead of leaving you to guess." Rhett heard the promise and understood its importance. It did not erase the past or guarantee a painless future. It offered the boy something smaller, realer, and therefore more precious: the possibility of being included in the truth of his own life.