Thomas was injured while trying to save documents and children trapped near the building.
Eliza helped his wife and young daughter escape.
They fled toward the lower crossing.
The storm destroyed the road before they could return.
Eliza carried copies of the disputed survey and a small ledger containing information about the original property transfers.
She believed the evidence might protect the families.
But she knew she was growing weaker.
Near the bottom of the page, her handwriting became uneven.
I recognized the effort it must have taken her to continue.
I know you will blame yourself, because you have always believed you must be stronger than every misfortune. Please don't.
I covered my mouth.
Then forced myself to keep reading.
You loved me well, Hiram. You gave me a life I would choose again, even knowing how little time we might have.
The final lines were written more faintly.
If there is another morning for you beyond this sorrow, promise me you will not spend it punishing yourself for loving me.
Find the people who still need kindness. Let them find you too.
And when you are ready, let yourself be happy.
Your Eliza.
The letter ended there.
I stared at the last word.
Then lowered my head.
For twenty years, I had believed honoring my wife meant refusing every chance at another life.
Now her last message asked me to do exactly the opposite.
Josephine sat beside me while I wept.
When the worst of it passed, I looked toward her.
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
"Why did you keep this from me?"
She lowered her eyes.
For a moment, she seemed unable to answer.
Then she spoke.
"At first, because you were ill from exhaustion and I didn't know whether the past would overwhelm you."
I nodded slowly.
She continued.
"Then you told me how much you loved her."
Her voice trembled.
"I started worrying that bringing the letter into your life would make you see me only as the stranger carrying another woman's last words."
I looked toward her.
She was crying.
"And then I fell in love with you."
The words seemed to stop the room.
She took a shaky breath.
"I knew I needed to tell you everything. Every day I waited made it harder."
I remained silent.
Josephine continued.
"I was wrong, Hiram. I should've trusted you."
I looked toward the letter.
For several seconds, I considered her confession.