Chapter 14: The Procession of Timber
The memorial service for Martha Vance was held on the high meadow overlooking the valley she had guarded with her life.
More than five hundred people walked up the mountain road on foot.
There were no black limousines. Martha’s simple cedar casket—built by Greg and Harper from white oak grown on the homestead—was carried on the back of an antique horse-drawn logging wagon driven by Chief Miller.
Behind the wagon walked the apprentices carrying their wooden mallets, the bakery workers wearing their white aprons, the farmers, the teachers, and the generations of children who had eaten at her table.
They laid her to rest beside Arthur beneath the shade of a three-hundred-year-old sugar maple, where the autumn leaves drifted down like gold coins over the rich, dark earth.
When the final prayer was spoken, Greg stepped forward with a hand trowel, placing the first spade of soil onto the cedar wood.
Beside him stood Harper, her hand firmly linked through his, her tears falling without shame into the earth that had redeemed her life.
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They stood together under the boundless autumn sky, feeling the unbroken circle of love that held the entire valley safe in its embrace.
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