Epilogue

The next day, Kate and Paul drove out to Gladys’. The elderly woman had called to say that she had a surprise for them, and she wanted to give it to them in person. Kate wondered what could be so mysterious that she couldn’t tell them what it was over the phone.

Gladys was drying her hands on a dishtowel when she answered their knock.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her old eyes crinkled in joy as she reached to hug them each in turn. Then she led the way to the living room, taking a seat on the couch.

“So what’s the big mystery?” Paul said, sounding as curious as Kate felt.

They had told her of the events surrounding Paul’s grandfather, and that shortly after the capture of Walter Manuel, Horace had been declared innocent of any wrongdoing, to which the woman had said simply, “Good.” Nothing more.

Gladys got up and moved to the bookcase that flanked the stairway. She pulled a black Bible from the shelf and held it out to Paul. “I found this,” she said, “in the back of that closet upstairs. I think you should have it.”

As she handed it to him, a piece of paper with Horace Hanlon’s handwriting on it fell out.

Kate reached to pick it up and handed it to Paul. He studied it for a long moment, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

“What does it say?” she said, angling her head so she could read along with him.

Paul read out loud, “This Bible is for you, J.L. The words herein are true. They are freedom from the life that binds you. Read them, and you can understand what I’ve been trying to tell you all these years. Yours in Christ, Horace Hanlon.”

Kate’s eyes widened as she turned to her husband. This had been Jack Leonetti’s Bible, given to him by Paul’s grandfather—a man who longed to see even the worst of humanity come into the fullness of God’s forgiveness. Because God had revealed his deep love to Horace Hanlon, and Horace had responded.

And just as promised, God was showing his love to a thousand generations.