Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 483

"Or… you could give it back to his parents?" Sebastian suggested with a smile. "It would be a nice memento for them."

Emma shook her head. Bart hadn't left much behind, and his parents treasured every single item. If she returned something they believed was gone forever, how would they feel? It would be like reopening an old wound.

"Don't worry about it. I'll figure out a way to put it to rest properly. I just won't keep it," Emma said. After finishing the soup, she called Fallon to take the bowl away, then was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. "By the way, have you scheduled your visa appointment? Are you doing it here in Cresthaven or back in Capital City? Did you get all your documents ready?"

"I'll schedule it in Cresthaven, with you. The documents aren't ready yet; I flew over here in a hurry because you were missing," Sebastian said, holding her hand with a hint of a whine.

"Thank you for that," Emma said, patting his hand. "You must not have slept well last night either. Do you want to take a nap?"

"No," he said with a smile. "I'm heading back this afternoon. I want to get everything sorted out quickly so I can come back to Cresthaven and stay with you for good."

That sounded like a good plan. "Okay, I'm going to get some sleep then. You should rest too. I'll take you to the airport this afternoon."

"Sounds good," Sebastian said, stroking her hair. "You sleep. I won't bother you."

Emma slept deeply. She had planned to wake up at noon to see Sebastian off, but when she finally woke up, it was already three in the afternoon, and Fallon was in the kitchen starting dinner.

After a long talk with the priest, she learned that the church could indeed help her. They offered several options, and the priest suggested one he called "letting fate decide"—choosing a special place to return the object to nature.

Emma loved the idea. Bart had always been passionate about nature. In school, he used to say his dream was to travel to every corner of the earth. It was a tragedy he never got the chance.

Emma chose a camphor tree. She remembered there was a row of them right outside their school building. On summer evenings, the boys from the basketball team would sit under them, trying to make music by blowing on the leaves, producing a sound more jarring than a blacksmith's hammer.

Having decided on the method, they still needed to arrange a service, which couldn't be done today. They set a date for her to return, and Emma decided to stay at a local inn for the night.