I don't know. What do you think? He thought for a long moment, then. Hawthorne home. A family by choice.
Mars breath caught. That's perfect. The next day, Silas carved the sign while Jonah helped. the boy learning to use the tools with growing confidence. When it was finished, they painted it together. Simple black letters on a smooth pine board sealed against the weather.
The whole family gathered for the hanging. Silas and Jonah climbed ladders on either side of the door while everyone else watched from below, Grace and Eliza's arms, the younger children bouncing with excitement. "Ready!" Silas called down. "Ready!" everyone shouted back. They hammered it in place, solid and permanent, above the door that had welcomed them in and kept danger out.
When they climbed down, Mara stepped back to look at it properly. Hawthorne home, a family by choice, she started to cry. "Ma, why are you crying?" Thomas asked, concerned. "Because I'm happy, baby. So, so happy." One by one, the children came to stand beside her, looking up at the sign that declared who they were.
Jonah put his arm around Eliza. The twins held hands. Thomas and Abigail pressed close to Mara's sides, and Silas stood behind them all, one hand on his wife's shoulder, one hand on Jonah's, and looked at this family he'd been given and couldn't quite believe his luck. Thank you, he said quietly. To God or fate, or whatever force had led him to that road on that desperate afternoon.
Thank you. Summer came, warm and gentle. The farm flourished under Silas's careful management and Jonah's growing skill. They planted a larger garden, added more chickens, bought a milk cow that the twins immediately named Buttercup. Grace grew bigger, pulling herself up on furniture, taking wobbly steps that sent everyone into paracisms of panic and pride.
She learned to say mama and papa, and all her siblings names mangled but recognizable. Neighbors came by regularly now, not just to help, but to visit. The Hawthorne Cabin had become a gathering place, a symbol of what was possible when people refused to give up. In August, the valley held its first real harvest festival in 5 years. Silas and Mara brought all the children, Grace toddling between them, holding both their hands.
There was music and dancing and more food than they'd seen in one place since leaving civilization. John Miller found Silas by the drink table and clapped him on the shoulder. Good turnout. Best I've seen," Silas agreed. "That's because of you.
You know what you and Mara did, surviving Thomas Avery, building a home, showing everyone else it was possible. It gave people hope. Gave them a reason to stay instead of leaving. We didn't do anything special. You did.
You loved each other. Loved those kids. Helped your neighbors. That's everything." Miller's expression grew serious. I heard talk in town.
They want to build a school. First one in the valley. They want Mara to teach. Silas looked across the field to where Mara sat with the children, Grace in her lap, laughing at something Eliza was saying. She'd love that.