Brad gave me a sly smile. “I’m thinking I’m actually going to continue some of this. Find out more about the ancestors we traced to Liberty.” He jiggled my hand in his. “Maybe you could find out some about your family.”
“That might be something Lydia and I could bond over.” I squeezed his hand. “We had another good talk the other day, actually. And they finally made a decision about the UK. They’re staying.”
I recalled the intense relief that swept over me when Lydia had told me her and Roger’s choice. The way she welcomed my embrace after sharing the news.
Brad smiled. “I’m glad for you two.”
We walked in silence for another minute before he spoke. “Funny, but I’ll bet Liberty and Alexander never would have guessed their ring would have such a big role in our lives too.”
I smiled. “We never would have gotten together if it weren’t for that ring.”
“Or the bombing.”
I looked over at him. “You’re the best thing to come out of that day, Bradford Kilroy.”
He groaned. “I never should have put my full name on that card.” We laughed and he stopped us from walking by pulling me close, lowering his mouth to mine. His fingers trailed down my arms. I breathed in that earthy scent of woods and spice, remembered our journey that began two years ago all over again. He kissed me deeply and fully, right there on the streets of Boston. When we parted, he took my hand and continued to lead me down Newbury Street.
“Ready to go back to your apartment and snuggle in with a movie?”
“Only if you’re ready to venture out from Rocky.”
When we reached Clarendon Street, I tugged his hand. “Actually, I was wondering if you’re up for one more adventure.”
“Sure . . .”
“Would you take me to the finish line?”
My question hung in the air. I’d surprised him. I could tell by the way his jaw hung loose, the way he blinked. “Really? You sure you’re ready?”
“No. No, I’m not sure at all. But I’m tired of doing things out of fear. I didn’t want to run that 5K with Grace, Brad. I even almost chickened out that morning. But I kind of rested in the fact that I’m not strong. That Jesus can be strong for me.” I shrugged. “I get what Alexander was talking about—about God holding him fast. I think He’s holding me, too.”
He was looking at me so intently, I felt heat rising to my face. I looked away, but he chucked my chin and steered my gaze toward him. “I love you, Anaya.”
I didn’t miss the intentional use of my first name. Completely free. Maybe by the end of this walk I would feel I finally lived up to my name.
Together we turned left on Clarendon and then, a block later, right on Boylston Street. I clutched Brad’s hand, felt my heart pumping blood to my limbs. I kept my gaze focused on the ground in front of me. We passed Copley Square on our left. An older man with a stack of newspapers under his arm greeted us and asked if we’d like to buy a paper.
Brad answered something, but I couldn’t grasp his words. For just ahead, painted on the Boylston Street pavement, was the blue and yellow finish line. My knees weakened and I felt the pinch in the back of my calf more acutely than I had in weeks. I focused on the bold letters, the unicorn logo of the Boston Athletic Association that called to mind the unicorn atop the Old State House.
I stood on the red stone cobbles of the sidewalk, breathed in the scents of fried food and car exhaust. Brad didn’t question when I continued up the street until I’d reached the spot of the first explosion—the spot where Lydia and Grace stood, cheering me on.
Memories threatened to break me. But for some reason here, with Brad and all I’d been through the past several weeks with him, Lydia, Grace, Liberty, and even God, I felt protected, safe.
His strength will hold me fast.
The cobblestones were scrubbed clean of the stains of blood. No sulfur haze marred the air. People went about their day in business suits and skirts, jeans and backpacks.
I was a different person than I’d been two years ago. And although I couldn’t say I was glad the bombing occurred, I felt it had changed me for the better. I knew how to love better, how to receive forgiveness and accept it from myself.
I thought of Liberty and her ring. How precious the symbol of God’s strength and love had been to her in order for her to hand down the ring to Hugh’s son. And because she had given it to her son, I could now bask in its legacy.
I took Brad’s hand and gave a sharp nod to him, as if to say I was all set. I’d faced the place of my nightmares and conquered. I even thought about asking Grace if she’d like to try and run the marathon with me next year.
We walked back toward the Common and a calm contentment settled over me.
The reason runners love the finish line so much is what it symbolizes. That thick, painted line on the pavement means you can stop running. Stop pushing your body into further pain. Stop proving you have what it takes to make it.
The work is finished.
You are free.
EPILOGUE
Anaya
PATRIOTS’ DAY, 2016
The muscles in my legs burned from the last twenty-six miles as my feet pounded the pavement on Boylston Street, keeping in rhythm with Grace’s steady pace. Ahead, the blue-and-yellow finish line called to me.
“You ready to finish strong?” Through huffing breaths, Grace asked the question she’d asked at the end of every grueling workout we’d been through together the past eight months.
I heard Brad and Lydia shouting encouragement to us. I spotted them, little Emilia in her Boston Strong hat beside them.
Memories tugged at me. Sounds and scents of old threatened to resurrect havoc on what I intended to be victory.
Victory.
I had a new definition of victory this year. And a new definition of strong.
I might not be Boston Strong. Or even Annie Strong. I lacked too much, both in myself and my ability.
But God Strong? That I trusted. He could do any work He had in mind through me.
And I was convinced this was one such thing He wanted accomplished.
In sync with Grace, I raced past the spot where I had gone to hug her three years earlier. The wind swept my face, chilling the sweat on my brow. We picked up our pace, stretching our legs, dropping our arms, lengthening our strides.
It felt like flying.
Freedom.
Grace grasped my hand and lifted it high as we sailed over the finish line together. We slowed to a walk to catch our breath, and I slung a sweaty arm over her. When she hugged me back, tears glistened on her shining face.
I understood. This was victory in so many different ways.
We grabbed a water and a medal and meandered through the crowd to find Brad, Emilia, Lydia, Roger, and Joel. My sister got to us first, hugging us both at the same time, her voice quaking. “I’m so proud of you two.”
I whispered back that I was proud of her, too. This was her victory as much as ours. Being here—bringing Joel—these were things she did out of faith instead of fear.
When Lydia pulled away, Brad swept me up in his arms, twirled me around, and pressed a kiss to my salty lips. “I love you.”
“I love you.” I hugged him, pressed my face to the Red Sox sweatshirt I’d found comfort in three years ago.
As much as that day had caused immeasurable pain, the fact remained that the two best things in my life had come from it. I sank into Brad’s strong arms, marveling at the journey we’d been on together. Falling in love, finding faith.
An insatiable stirring of hope filled my chest. I’d been given a gift. A new beginning, a new story. My past had been wiped clean by grace.
And because of that, I could finally claim strength.
HISTORICAL NOTE
THE FIRST BOSTON MARATHON was run on April 19, 1897, setting the precedent that the oldest continuously running marathon in America would be run on Patriots’ Day, a holiday commemorating the start of the American Revolution, which is
recognized only in Massachusetts and Maine.
While the Battle of Lexington officially began the Revolutionary War, the five men who died in the Boston Massacre are considered some of the first casualties for the Cause of American independence. James Caldwell, a young sailor who died the night of March 5, 1770, was said to have no known family. Therefore, Liberty Caldwell is entirely fictitious.
The Massachusetts State House time capsule, buried by Governor Samuel Adams, Paul Revere, and William Scollay in 1795, was unearthed for a short time in 1855, and then more recently in December 2014. It was opened at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts a month later and put on display from March 11, 2015 to April 22, 2015. The time capsule contained coins, newspapers, a medal with the likeness of George Washington, and a silver plaque believed to be Paul Revere’s work. Liberty’s poem is also, of course, fictitious.
While I have tried to stay true to the real-life historical characters and their beliefs, I cannot presume I did so perfectly. Therefore, any fault is completely my own. Nevertheless, I hope I have honored the fathers of our country within the pages of this story.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HEIDI CHIAVAROLI is a writer, runner, and grace-clinger who could spend hours exploring Boston’s Freedom Trail. She writes women’s fiction and won the 2014 ACFW Genesis contest in the historical category. She makes her home in Massachusetts with her husband, two sons, and Howie, her standard poodle. Visit her online at heidichiavaroli.com.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
Both Annie and Lydia feel strongly that Annie abandoned her family after the bombing. What were Annie’s reasons? What other choices could she have made?
Liberty found herself in a difficult situation—alone with no support system. Did she betray her principles by working for the British Army? What were her other options?
Describe Annie’s connection to the ring. Would you call it a healthy or unhealthy connection?
Eighteenth-century Patriots like Liberty’s brother, James, were willing to give their lives to combat British injustices. Have you ever strongly supported a Cause? What was it? How were you involved? Did people in your life support you? Question you? Oppose you?
How did Annie and Brad’s history at the bombing affect their relationship? Did they successfully move past that? How did they discover the real individuals underneath the mysterious figures from their memories?
After Liberty is assaulted, she’s inclined to place some of the fault on herself, thinking her antagonism was partly to blame. This continues to be a serious issue in our time as well. Have you known anyone who was a victim, yet claimed some (or all) of the blame? What can we do—as individuals or as a society—to protect the vulnerable and afflicted?
Brad experienced the terrors and tragedies of war. How did his connection to Christ affect his view of those experiences? Read 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. What is God’s intention for believers’ struggles?
Hugh Gregory comes to love Liberty, overlooking the obstacles between them. How is this like God’s love for us? How is it different?
Brad and Annie are eager to learn the history behind the poem and the ring. Are you connected to your own family history? Are there any mysteries you wish you could solve?
Through the course of the book, Liberty falls in love with two men. As you read, did you perceive a clear right choice or wrong choice for her? Have you ever been conflicted between two choices that both seemed right to you? How did you decide?
Annie and Lydia both have to learn about forgiveness before they can mend their relationship. Discuss Grace, Lydia, and Annie’s different approaches to the dysfunction in their family. How do you respond when people have wounded you? Read Jesus’ parable in Matthew 18:21-35. How do these verses apply to the characters in Freedom’s Ring?
Liberty and Annie both feel the need for strength greater than what they inherently possess. When have you needed God’s strength? How have those experiences affected your relationship with God?
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