I looked down at the hand-carved inscription on the arm of the cedar rocking chair beside my knee:
`BUILT PLUMB.
HELD TRUE.`
`MERCER HOMESTEAD // ESTABLISHED 1944`
A slow, radiant, permanent smile broke across Colonel Lily Eleanor Mercer’s face—a smile that held zero fear, zero debts, zero lies, and zero graves.
I looked out over the forty miles of clean, sweet river water where my grandfather’s memory, my uniform’s honor, and my future had finally taken root upon solid rock:
“The line is plumb, Grandpa,” Lily whispered into the morning breeze:
“The doors are locked from the inside.”
“The foundation stands upon solid stone.”
“The thieves are in their cages.”
“The boots are home.”
“Daniel is whole.”
“The uniform held true.”
“The ledger is closed.”
“And around here…”
I stood up from the chair, holding Daniel, Thomas, and Uncle David’s hands toward the limitless blue sky as the distant chimes of the valley chapel began to strike twelve times across the peaceful water:
“…nobody ever, ever… audits an auditor again.”
Barnaby let out a soft, contented sigh on the porch rug, his tail thumping once against the cedar boards: *thump.*
Daniel laughed into the warm sunlight.
The eagles climbed into the limitless blue sky.
The river ran deep and clear.
The ledger was closed forever.
And the soldier who had returned from deployment to find her life in trash bags to reclaim her birthright… was finally, beautifully, eternally free.
