Aline’s sweet homely face flushed with emotion. “Usha, I will miss you.”
Usha took her hands and held them. Between the two something passed that had no words—a history of hope and sorrow and fear, and hope again.
The parting with Dezra was one of comrades in arms, and after Dezra said to Usha, “Down and over the next hill, we’ll see home.”
It was so—the chimneys standing proudly above the roof of the Inn of the Last Home. What would the place be like without Caramon? Usha glanced at Dez and saw her wondering.
“We’ve been gone a long time,” Usha said.
Dez nodded. “Not by the calendar, but a long time.”
They went down the last rocky slope toward the town in the vallenwood, and when they could see the smoke rising from the chimneys, Usha said, “Dez, Loren’s right. It was past time he took a stand to save what he loves.”
Dez waited, carefully quiet.
“And it’s past time I took a stand. Palin and I have to talk. I don’t know how things will turn out for us. I don’t know whether all the wounds we’ve inflicted on our marriage can heal. But if we’re both running away, healing has no chance at all.”
Her eyes on the inn, Dez said, “Do you love my brother?”
“I won’t ask forgiveness for loving Loren, Dez. Not of you or anyone. But Palin and I...” She shook her head. “All that’s gone wrong between us couldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t love him. Right now, I can’t say more than that.”
Dez looked down the road to the inn. Usha saw her thinking. She saw her struggle with something. Patiently, she waited, as she’d waited through the days and nights when Dezra fought in battles Usha could only imagine. As then, her patience was rewarded.
“You don’t have to say more than that to me, Usha. When all the questions pour down on us about what went on in Haven, I’m backing anything you’d like to say. Now come home, sister. Our family is waiting.”