Chapter 15
The sun dipped below the jagged skyline of the city, casting long, golden streaks across the wooden floorboards of a small, quiet porch overlooking a bend in the river fifty miles north of the capital. Arthur Vance sat in a weathered rocking chair, a steaming mug of black coffee held between both hands, watching the evening mist rise off the water. The olive-green military jacket hung over the back of the kitchen chair inside, replaced by a simple flannel shirt that smelled of woodsmoke and clean laundry. The crumpled, fire-damaged photograph sat framed in modest dark wood on the mantelpiece above the stone fireplace, its charred edges preserved forever beneath a sheet of clear glass. Footsteps crunched softly on the gravel driveway, and Eleanor walked up the wooden steps carrying a small paper bag from the local bakery, her white blazer left behind in the closet in favor of a comfortable navy sweater. She pulled up a second rocking chair beside his, sitting down with a contented sigh as she looked out over the rolling hills turning dark in the twilight. Neither of them spoke for a long time; the silence between them was no longer heavy with ghosts or deception, but filled with the quiet, hard-won peace of two people who had finally found their way home through the dark. Arthur took a slow sip of his coffee, turning his head to look at her with a gentle, weathered smile that reached all the way to the corners of his eyes. "You know, Ellie," he said softly, the wind rustling the autumn leaves around the porch, "we missed a lot of sunsets over the years." Eleanor reached across the small gap between their chairs, her fingers resting lightly over his knuckles, feeling the steady, living pulse beneath his skin. "We have plenty of time left to catch up on them now," she replied, her voice steady and warm as the first evening stars began to pierce the darkening sky.
