Tears well up in Sarah’s eyes again. “I know it, Jack. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know I’m not one for words. For saying what I’m thinking or feeling.”
“Like, hey, you, instead of honey, or baby?” Sarah says in a teasing way. She’s smiling up at him.
Jack looks surprised. “But it is you. It’s always been you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
“I know it, Jack.” All the love she’s ever needed has been right here in the circle of Jack’s arms.
EPILOGUE
The elm is gone now. Jack tore it down with the tractor and dragged it to the river with a chain. In the spring, when the Makwa was swollen, the tree floated off until it made its way to the lake. The stone pile is gone, too, buried, the ground levelled flat in the same place it stood all those years.
Caroline lived for four more years, good years filled with long, peaceful nights. Sarah was with her at the end, holding her hand.
Jack and the girls had already said their goodbyes; Connor and little Emma, too, lifted up to give a last kiss to their Nanny. Sarah was alone, holding back tears. “It’s going to be all right now,” she whispered, as she laced her fingers through Caroline’s silky hair. “I’m right here, beside you.” Another ragged breath, then a pause, longer than the last, until Caroline struggled for another.
Caroline’s eyelids fluttered, and through her cracked lips came a question. “Is it you?”
Could Caroline see Becca waiting for her? Or was it her mother she saw, standing at the end of a tunnel washed in white light? Sarah knew it was Caroline’s time, but she wasn’t ready to let her go. “Yes, yes, it’s me,” Sarah said, the sorrow she’d been holding inside rising up in a pain so intense she could scarcely breathe.
Sarah felt the faintest tremor from Caroline’s hand and Caroline’s eyes fluttered open one more time. “It is you,” she said, then she gave a last gentle breath.
“Sarah.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Although A Strange Kind of Comfort is a work of fiction, the river rescue is based on a true story — the heroine, my mother. Thanks, Mom, for sharing it with me and for your ongoing love and support.
Dad, your memory lives on in my heart. Thanks for always being in my corner.
My children have blessed me with the fulfillment, heartache, and absolute joy of motherhood. Without them, this novel would not have its soul. Thank you for your inspiration and encouragement.
The characters of Anton and Anna were created in memory of my in-laws, who taught by example. Addie was based on my dear friend, Adeline, in her memory. She was the most forthright person I have ever known.
Much gratitude to Fisher, Linda, and Julie, fellow members of the Parkland Writer’s Group, for their careful reading, honest suggestions, and continuing friendship.
The Word and Wax: A Medical Folk Ritual Among Ukrainians in Alberta, by Rena Jeanne Hanchuk, was an invaluable resource. Ms. Hanchuk’s research validated my own understanding of the folk ritual and her book was the source of the healing incantation.
For believing in my story, special thanks to acquisitions editor Rachel Spence, at Dundurn Press. Jess Shulman, thank you for your insight, skill, and expertise in guiding me through the editing process. To Dundurn Press and staff who offered valuable advice every step of the way, many thanks.
Finally, for your unwavering patience and support, much love and thanks to my husband, Wayne. Thanks for answering my questions about farm equipment and methods when I was not quite sure and needed an expert opinion. I wouldn’t want to share this with anyone but you.
A Strange Kind of Comfort Page 29