THE FOOTPRINTS THE TIDE COULD NOT ERASE

On Ana Vega's birthday, the first visitor to the recreation center was a man with a camera. He introduced himself as an independent documentary producer and wanted permission to film the banana grove that had turned green overnight. Samuel had told a neighbor what happened, the neighbor had posted a photograph, and by morning the photograph had been shared by people who had never heard of Seabright.

"I can get this town attention," the man told Marisol. "People love a good miracle story."

"People here need groceries and reliable water," she answered. "If you want to talk to the farmers, ask them. If you want to film children eating, the answer is no."

He turned toward Jonah as if a younger man might be easier to persuade. "You were there, right? The Jesus guy? I've got a sponsor who'll pay for an exclusive."

Jonah thought of the unpaid bills on Caleb's refrigerator. An interview could pay for a new pump motor or replace Samuel's torn irrigation hoses. A part of him wanted to prove what he had seen, too. His father still hadn't met Jesus, and Jonah wasn't sure Caleb believed him.

"I'm not selling footage I don't have," Jonah said.

"Then tell me where to find him."

"I don't know where he'll be."

That was true. Jesus appeared at the center when he was needed, carried a sack or moved a chair, and left without asking for a photograph. He was absent that morning. Jonah didn't know whether he had gone to another house, another town, or somewhere ordinary directions could not reach.

The producer left, annoyed. Ten minutes later, a woman arrived carrying four bags of canned goods. She'd seen the same photograph and wanted to help, but she didn't want her face online. Marisol thanked her, sorted the food by expiration date, and found a place for it on the shelves. A child who lived next door volunteered to write the labels. The difference between the two visitors stayed with Jonah all day.

Ana had not forgotten her birthday. She was trying very hard to pretend she had. She wore a paper crown made from a grocery-store advertisement and kept telling everybody that ten was practically eleven. On the table beside her sat a small gift bag containing the sketchbook Jonah had rescued from the donations and a box of colored pencils Lena bought at the pharmacy.

"This is plenty," Ana said, hugging the bag. "Please don't do anything else."

Marisol smiled, but Jonah saw that the woman had spent the morning watching other families take cake mixes from the donated pantry. She couldn't bear to use ingredients that might feed someone who needed them more.

At four, Rosa Bell, the retired school custodian who managed the center's supply closet, appeared with two apples, a handful of oats, and a jar of cinnamon. She and Marisol baked an apple-oat cake in a battered square pan. It leaned in one corner and had no frosting. Ana said it smelled better than the birthday cakes advertised on television.

The room filled slowly. Luis pushed in the repaired handcart bearing two pitchers of water and cups. Teresa brought a box of decorations she'd saved since Ana's seventh birthday. Samuel arrived with the first ripe bananas from Helen's revived row, each one wrapped in newspaper to protect it from bruising. His hand shook as he placed the fruit beside the cake.

"Your grandma liked birthdays," he told Ana, though he meant Helen. "Always said there should be enough candles to make the smoke alarm complain."

Ana grinned. "Mom says absolutely not."

When everyone gathered, Ana insisted they sing not only to her but also to Mr. Finch, who had quietly mentioned that he'd turned seventy-nine the week before. The two of them stood behind the square cake. Ana got the first slice and carried it to the old man. He cried, laughed at himself for crying, and asked whether he could have the corner with the most apples.

Jesus came in as they were washing plates. He stood in the doorway with the same wind-tangled hair and white robe Jonah remembered from the beach. Nobody rushed him or asked him to perform. Marisol offered him a piece of cake. He accepted it and asked Ana to show him the drawing in her new sketchbook.

She had drawn two footprints leading to a table. The table had no walls around it, just chairs beneath a sky full of yellow stars.

"Why no house?" Jesus asked.

"So anybody can come," she said.

He studied the page. "That's a good reason."

Jonah waited until Ana had gone to help Teresa. "Someone offered money for our story," he told Jesus. "I almost took it."

"Why didn't you?"

"He wanted the miracle more than the people it happened to."

"And what do you want?"

Jonah looked at the crowded hall. "I want them to keep having birthdays here."

Jesus set down his plate. "Then ask what must be protected."

Later that evening, Lena showed Jonah a weather alert. A tropical depression was approaching the coast. The forecast remained uncertain, but the town needed a practical plan for flooding as well as drought. Rain on broken roads could be as dangerous as no rain at all.

They drove to Miller's Cove with Caleb to inspect the old drainage approach from the public road. The men remained outside the fenced construction area. From the verge they could see a large earth berm diverting runoff toward the lowest residential lane. Orange survey flags marked the top of the obstruction. It might have been temporary flood protection for the resort site, but it appeared to leave the neighboring cottages exposed.

"That wasn't there last storm season," Caleb said.

Lena photographed it and called the county drainage office. "We need an inspection before the weather changes."

Jonah thought of the rescue boat he had turned toward the harbor eighteen months before. He thought of the instant a decision could become irreversible. He would not invent another disaster in his head, but he refused to wait until water reached somebody's front door before asking where it would go.

Back at the center, Ana was coloring the sky above her footprints. She added a dark cloud, then carefully drew a yellow sun beyond it.

"The cloud's kind of scary," she told Jonah. "But I didn't want to erase it."