Epilogue
Penn Valley, California
The screen door creaked open, and Sam stepped onto the porch, where I was enjoying the fading rays of sunshine.
I was so proud of how he had used our first hotel to build another, and another, and another.
We were in the process of erecting the first health resort of its kind in California at the Harbin Hot Springs, about a hundred miles north of San Francisco.
Building it would occupy much of the coming winter and spring, and Sam had wanted to visit the cabin to enjoy a few days of rest before it all started.
“I was wondering where you went off to,” he said, holding up two steaming coffee cups. “Mind if I join you?”
I smiled, because he knew my answer as I lifted my hand and invited him to join me on the porch swing.
It amazed all our friends that we owned some of the grandest and most luxurious hotels in the state and yet our favorite place to retreat was the rustic, two-bedroom cabin in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
He handed me one of the mugs and then took a seat. I laid my head on his shoulder, trying not to yawn.
“Tired?” he asked.
“I don’t remember being this exhausted when Ben and Lucy were children.”
He pushed the swing with his foot, a smile in his voice. “Claire and Noah gave you a run for your money today?”
“If that girl survives childhood,” I said, taking a sip of the hot coffee, “I will consider it the greatest accomplishment of my life.”
Sam chuckled. “And where Claire goes, Noah is not far behind.” His voice held affection for our two youngest. “God is just trying to keep you young.”
“Then why do I feel so old?”
At the age of thirty-seven, we had been shocked to realize that I was expecting a third child.
At that time, Ben was eleven and Lucy was nine, and we thought we were entering a quieter phase in our lives.
But then, God had given us Noah, a sweet-tempered boy with big brown eyes like his father and a spray of freckles across his nose.
We didn’t want Noah to grow up without a sibling close in age, so a little over a year later, I became pregnant with Claire, and we started the second half of our parenting journey.
I laughed, thinking about the time I’d told Mama and Grace that I wouldn’t have six children like my sister Julia. Yet, that’s exactly what I had done.
When Claire came into the world five weeks early, and only after thirty minutes of labor, bearing the mark of a time-crosser on the back of her head, we knew we were in for an adventure.
Every day since then, she had lived life at full speed, wanting to experience as much of it as possible.
Her fearlessness and charm would prove to be a dangerous combination, I was certain.
The sound of laughter filled the air as Noah and Claire ran up from the riverbanks, where they had been playing since suppertime. At the ages of seven and five, they were inseparable and almost always covered in mud.
“Look, Mama!” Claire said as she held her little hand up for me to see whatever treasure she had found. “It’s an Indian arrowhead!”
Sam frowned as he set aside his coffee and rose to inspect the item. “Where did you get this, Claire?”
Her brown eyes were almost black, and her soft brown ringlets covered her cheeks as she tilted her face down in a gesture I knew far too well.
She was hiding something.
“Claire?” I also rose and joined Sam on the steps.
Noah averted his gaze, which was another sign that they had done something they shouldn’t.
“Noah?” Sam asked.
“Claire got it from the little Indian boy she talks to,” Noah blurted out.
“Noah!” Claire’s face came up with a frown. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”
“You know what we’ve told you about talking to strangers,” I said to her, fear gripping my heart. There had been an Indian uprising in northern California a few years before, and the threat of another one was always on my mind when we were at the cabin.
“But he’s not a stranger,” Claire protested. “He’s my friend. He gave me the arrowhead as a present.”
“You shouldn’t take gifts from strangers,” Sam chastised. “We don’t know this boy or his family.”
“I do know him,” she said with a confused frown.
Claire had never met a person she hadn’t liked, which was a wonderful quality.
It didn’t matter if it was the governor of California or a homeless miner; each person held the possibility of becoming her newest friend.
Still, it made me nervous, whether we were in the wilds of the Sierra Nevada Mountains or on the streets of San Francisco.
“Please obey me,” I said, feeling tired again. “And don’t debate, Claire.”
She frowned, and I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I had to scold her for talking to strangers.
“Go inside and clean up.” I touched her soft curls. “It’s almost time for bed.”
“And a little break for Mama,” Sam said with a smile.
The children went into the house, and I started to follow, but Sam took my free hand and said, “Sit with me a little while longer, Ally.”
After twenty years of marriage, I still couldn’t say no to being close to my husband.
We returned to the swing, and I wrapped my arm around his, allowing him to gently push the swing back and forth.
“They are probably making a mess in the kitchen,” I told him.
“More than likely.” He kissed the top of my head. “Lucy is inside, and she’ll stop them if they start to get out of control.”
“Why am I so lenient with Claire? Is it because I’m too old to be raising such a strong-willed child?”
He laughed. “Forty-five isn’t too old. You’re in the prime of your life.” After a moment, though, he grew serious. “I think we both know why we’re more lenient with her than the others.”
My heart tightened thinking about the things Claire had started to tell us about her other path.
Sometime around the age of three, I had begun to suspect things were dire for her and her family.
And within the past six months, my worst fears had been confirmed.
For the first time in my life, I understood how my mama must have felt when I told her about the hardships I had endured.
Yet they were nothing compared to our sweet Claire’s.
“I hope and pray her spirit isn’t broken in that place,” I whispered, trying not to cry. “And that she will somehow be spared from the indignities and sufferings.”
Sam was quiet for a moment, and I knew that the reality of Claire’s other path was just as difficult for him to accept.
“God is with her,” he assured me. “If I’ve learned anything, it’s that He holds each of us in His loving arms, and even when we are called to walk through the fire, He is there to comfort us and give us everything we need to endure.
He has equipped Claire with a beautiful and resilient spirit.
I don’t know anyone who loves life like she does or lives by a set of their own rules.
I know she will find purpose in the hardships.
Besides”—he set aside his coffee cup again and took my hand in his—“God has also given Claire this life, and we will do everything we can to teach her and guide her. Both of us have witnessed His faithfulness firsthand, and we have a lot of wisdom to offer her.”
I smiled and nodded.
“And when she’s here with us,” he added, “we will do everything we can to give her a life full of adventure, love, and guidance.”
“Thank you. I needed that reminder.”
“And who knows what God has in store for her in her other path? He has a plan for her life that we can’t even begin to imagine.
A difficult beginning doesn’t always mean a bad ending.
Look where He brought me. If I had thought my life was over in the penal colony in Australia and given up on God and on hope, I would have never experienced the success I’ve had or paved a way for our family to follow. Nothing is beyond God’s ability, Ally.”
I leaned into Sam’s strength as the last rays of daylight slipped over the horizon, hoping that my prayers would protect Claire whether she was here with us or in her other path.
The screen door opened, and Lucy appeared, a look of irritation on her pretty face. “Claire decided to bake a cake for the little friend who gave her the arrowhead. There’s flour everywhere.”
“Maybe the greatest achievement of your life might not be Claire surviving her childhood,” Sam said with a chuckle, “but the rest of us surviving it.”
I groaned as I rose from the swing, drawing Sam up with me. “It’s going to take all hands on deck, Mr. Kendal.”
“Why does it seem more daunting to raise a spirited five-year-old daughter than face a notorious Sydney Duck like English Jim?”
“Because Jim was predictable.” I lifted an eyebrow.
“God must have something very special planned for that young lady and her dogged determination,” Sam said as he joined me. “I can’t wait to see what it is.”
The truth was, I couldn’t, either.