As night fell over Crimson Valley, Sam tipped his hat and looked at her.
—Mary— he said softly. —When I leave this world someday, I just want you to promise me one thing.
She turned to him, frowning.
-Which?
“Keep laughter alive in this house,” he said. “Even if I’m not around to hear it.”
Her smile was firm, her voice soft.
—Then you’d better live a long, long time, Sam Coulter. Because I’m not done laughing yet.
He laughed softly and warmly as fireflies twinkled between them, tiny sparks of light dancing in the darkness. And somewhere between that laugh and the silence that followed, they both knew the past no longer held them. They had found what the border rarely offered: peace, love, and a forever home.
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