HANNAH
The garden was bathed in twilight as I walked with my father, my hand looped through his arm. The first stars had begun to dot the sky, faint pinpricks of silver against the deepening blue.
“You’re almost as tall as me now,” he said, glancing at me. “When I left, you were only this tall.”
He gestured to a spot just above his shoulder.
I laughed. “Not as tall as you yet. Still a long way to go.”
He grinned, then sighed, his expression turning wistful. “All this time, I was scared I would die out there without ever seeing you grow into the wonderful young lady you are now. That fear was more real to me than Dawson’s men hunting me down.”
I felt wetness on my cheeks. Sniffing, I quickly wiped away the tears.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come looking for you, Dad,” I whispered.
Once, whe
