Epilogue

14 months later

Michael pushed the door open and stepped out into the moonlight.

Caitlin sat on the front step, her chin resting in her hands, a silhouette gazing at the rising moon. The yellow circle of light hung low in the sky as the rhythmic chime of insects lulled the still, humid air.

She turned at the sound of the door and sent him a tired but satisfied smile. "We'll need some chairs out here, I think."

"In time." He offered her the glass he carried, fished their pipes out of his pocket, then sank down beside her, glad to put an end to this long day at last. The music of the crickets soaked into him along with the gentle babble of the creek that ran behind the house. A sudden breeze blew sweet with the aroma of fresh cut hay, ruffling his hair and cutting through the heat of the day—so different from the fetid air of the city. "This'll certainly do for now."

Her head sank onto his shoulder, and her body relaxed against him. "Indeed."

Their day had begun well before dawn when they'd woken in the cramped tenement that had been their home for the last ten months. They'd crossed the city to collect the second-hand wagon and gelding they'd purchased, then driven it back, loaded everything in, and set out for the new farm—first boarding the ferry to Staten Island, then turning north and driving through the farm country of New Jersey.

They'd arrived before sunset, with just enough time for Caitlin to settle the horse and for Michael to set up the bedstead before darkness set in.

"Gor, but it's pretty here." Caitlin sighed. She lifted her head and took a sip of her rum. "There's so much to do, though."

"In time," Michael repeated. He snaked his arm around her and drew her closer.

Ever since they'd left Scotland, he'd been moving—rolling over the choppy waves of the Atlantic, forcing his way through the crowds of Manhattan, jostling down that long dirt road, working as hard as he ever had in his life while worrying for the future and all that might go wrong. But as he lit his pipe and brought the smoke into his mouth, then exhaled, long and slow, the months of drudgery in that dirty city of New York faded away, along with all the anxiety and tension . . .

They'd arrived.

Yes, there was a lot to do. The kitchen was filthy, the rooms empty of furniture, the garden overgrown.

But they were home.

When Caitlin had shown him the notice in the Evening Post , he'd assumed they'd never get this place. The family who'd lived here were moving further west, leaving behind a farmhouse, a barn, and thirty acres of cleared pasture and fields. They'd answered the advertisement right away, offering all that they'd managed to keep from Caitlin's dower allowance, plus what they'd saved from Michael's clerking and Caitlin's piecework. He'd been astounded when the answer had come posthaste.

The farm was theirs if they could get there within the month.

And not only that, but Michael had found a position teaching at the school in Minisink, just to the east. His wages would feed them over the winter and help them set up the farm properly in the spring.

"There's room for at least five cows in that barn, and with the pasture and hayfields . . . we'll be able to send milk and butter to the city for certain." Caitlin pulled from her pipe, then exhaled, and the smoke floated up, disappearing into the stars. "I'll order hives in the spring. This land'll be perfect for bees." She rested her head on his shoulder again. "‘Tis perfect," she murmured.

Michael could hear the excitement in her voice, her joy at the future that stretched before them. He shared it, truly. It was everything they'd ever wanted. Yet all he could think of was now. The settled stillness, the deep-rooted feeling of contentment, of knowing that this was what he'd been born for.

This moment.

Right now.

He pressed a kiss into his wife's hair, savoring the smell of her, the tickle of her curls against his nose. "The bed's all set up."

"Is it, now?" She turned to face him, a knowing smile on her lips.

For a moment, Michael was lost in the sparkle of her eyes. He could hardly believe their luck. But no. It wasn't luck. It was damn hard work that had got them here. And that was better than luck, better by far.

In a world so full of injustice, they had found their reward.

He leaned forward, joining his lips with hers, and in the fullness of that moment under the rising moon, there was peace.