‘He came back to me,’ she said. ‘For that hour he was mine again.’
‘He was always yours,’ I answered.
She also says that she forgives me for holding her back and letting Toby leave the clinic on the final day - I broke up the last moment that the pair had together.
Sarah and I offered to put her up, but she preferred her own way. The last I heard, she was staying with the Convent of Saint Anna, California. And I really can’t think of a better place for her to be. Without Toby to share the weight, she seems to have the whole thing on her shoulders. She’s the one I worry for the most, and the one I have least need to worry for.
For the mountain town of Stove found itself in a dilly of a pickle. Yet it counted without the strength of its young people – they couldn’t know that they had a golden generation to come who’d dig them out of the hole.
That it would destroy that generation seems to matter little. For it is honesty, understood in that deep historical sense, that is paramount here, and all seem to feel it. Like the dead of ancient wars, it is less important how they lived than that they lived at all, to do what they had to do.
And I knew that that was what my book would have to be about. And so that is how I wrote it. And this is where I end it.
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