#matthew jerome

[sims-half-crazy]

There was music in the old ballroom for the first time in memory, laughter in the rafters. Elias and Imogen waltzed in the room that had always been waiting for exactly this. The old ranch opened its arms and the community gathered, dancing and laughing well into the evening.

It was a farewell and a homecoming all at once.

And somewhere between the music and the moonlight, Hector Stacey noticed Maranda Smith for what felt like the very first time.

[sims-half-crazy]

Pacific Northwest Survey - M. Jerome - Private

Dunmore - small. Newer than I expected. Train station is solid. Regular schedule north. The stationmaster knows everyone's business like they all do in small towns. Didn't ask questions. Good sign.

Road to Vashon Falls is passable. Wouldn't want to do it in deep winter. Maybe 4 miles from Dunmore. Less if you know the cuts through the trees. The old timer I spoke with - Caleb - says the mill hasn't run proper in 6 years. Nobody comes around much. The foreman's house is still standing. Roof needs work but the bones are good.

The locomotive behind the mill. Still on the tracks. Fernando says the line runs north. Hasn't been used since the mill closed but the tracks look sound enough. Worth investigating further.

Canada isn't as far as people think.

The town won't ask questions. They need the work too bad to ask questions.

Julius used to quote Roosevelt - Do what you can, with what you have, where you are. He said it in the worst winter either of us had seen. I think he meant it as much for himself as for me.

I think this is the where.

[sims-half-crazy]

He answered the call with courage and grace, and now rests where the brave find peace.

Francis Eamon Miller (1895-1916)

[sims-half-crazy]

The door creaked as Matthew stepped inside, shaking off the damp. The storm had finally broken, drumming steadily against the roof. Clara stood just beyond the threshold, arms wrapped around herself as if holding in what strength she had left.

“He’s gone,” she said before he could speak. Her voice was raw, thin as a thread.

Matthew blinked the rain from his lashes. “Gone?”

“Francis.” She drew a shaky breath. “I went to see Lucy this morning. He left in the night—said he couldn’t stand sitting idle while others fought. He’s gone up to Canada.”

The words seemed to hang there between them, heavy as the wet air. Clara’s chin quivered; she pressed her lips tight. “He’s just a boy, Matthew. Barely out of leading strings. What if he doesn’t come back?”

Matthew gathered her into a close embrace, staring at the top of his wife's head as thunder rolled overhead. “Then we pray he makes it home,” he said quietly. “And if he doesn’t… we remember him kindly.”

Clara leaned further into his embrace, her shoulders trembling. “It isn’t fair,” she whispered.

“No,” he said after a moment, his voice low. “It never is.”

Rain tapped harder against the windows, filling the silence that followed.

[sims-half-crazy]

No good deed goes unpunished.

[sims-half-crazy]

The marriage had been one of convenience, or at least that’s how he’d intended it. Yet Clara had proven unexpectedly skilled in certain domestic matters — particularly those conducted after dark. Some of the old man had rubbed off after all, Matthew thought with a thin, private smirk.

He called over to her, careful to sound tender. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, voice smooth and practiced. Clara glanced up, satisfied. That was the whole point — to be convincing. She believed him, and that made her less likely to question his ambitions.

Clara fussed about the kitchen, drying her hands on her cotton skirt. Comfortable, self-assured, she didn’t flinch as Matthew’s gaze drifted toward the window. “You really mean to go up there?” she asked, her tone light but edged with curiosity.

Matthew’s lips curved into a small, deliberate smile. “I do. It’s time. They owe me — not just for me, but for my mother. For everything. For us, and for our babe.” A reason to finally stake a claim in the world he’d been denied.

Clara’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? Your father’s long gone, and the Staceys that are left have been nothing but kind and good to everyone here.”

Matthew allowed the faintest smile, one meant to reassure yet carry authority. “Yes. Time doesn’t wait, and neither will I.”