EPILOGUE — THE OPEN GATE
Six weeks later, Samuel stood outside a small boarding house north of Virginia with a plain travel bag at his feet.
Liza was inside helping Ruth arrange blankets near the stove.
They had crossed the state line with Ida’s assistance and with more anxiety than any of them would later describe.
The papers had been examined repeatedly, their route had changed twice, and they had accepted help from people whose names Samuel intended never to write down.
The journey was not a victory parade.
It was a sequence of difficult mornings that ended, finally, at a door they could close themselves.
A local carpenter had offered Samuel work repairing wagon wheels.
He had accepted the work because he knew the tools and because the carpenter had agreed to pay him directly.
Liza intended to begin sewing for customers under her own name.
Ruth had announced that she would spend at least one whole afternoon doing nothing anyone could reasonably call useful.
Samuel doubted she would keep that promise, but he looked forward to seeing her try.
A letter arrived from Ida that morning.
It said that Catherine had moved to a relative’s house and had stopped presiding over Julian’s dinners.
Martin had gone north without Julian.
The county newspaper had printed the story of the staged photograph, but not the private correspondence between the two men.
Ida had insisted upon that distinction.
Samuel folded the letter and put it away.
He did not owe Catherine forgiveness, and he did not owe Martin gratitude for a conscience discovered so late.
He did owe Ida a reply,
and he meant to write one after supper.
Liza opened the boarding house door.
“Are you coming inside?” she asked.
Samuel picked up his bag.
“Yes,” he said.
For the first time in his life, the decision was entirely his.
The End.
