Leaning against the stone wall of The Order's compound, Marin was so entranced by the babe in his arms he didn't notice Tilly walking back to him with his father behind her until they were both right in front of him.

When their footsteps stopped, Marin looked up. "Did you tell my father who this is?" Marin asked Tilly. She nodded in response.

"So, this is the little trouble-maker?" Hobard asked with a chuckle.

Marin turned his eyes to his father. "Yup. This is the one who started it all. Want to meet her?"

Two medics came out of the gate and began walking down the path to town. They did a double-take when they noticed Marin was holding a baby. It wasn't a common site to see a medic with an infant. And although they hurried along after just a momentary pause, it made Marin feel vulnerable.

"Maybe we should go somewhere more private," Tilly suggested, apparently feeling the same sense of unease that Marin did.

"The stables?" Marin suggested. His straw mat was still rolled up in the corner where he put it after Tilly had rushed away from him just this morning.

The four of them made their way around the wall until they reached the building that had provided Marin shelter for the previous several months. Using bales of straw as benches, they sat down in the empty horse stall, Marin and his father along one wall and Tilly sitting opposite them.

"Here, you can hold her," Marin said, passing the infant to his father after they had all sat.

Hobard took the baby's head in one of his hands, scooping her body with his other. "Well, hello," he said, a smile reflexively spreading across his face. He bent his head down and inhaled. "Babies really are delicious."

"She is something special, isn't she?" Marin agreed.

Hobard turned his attention to his son. "So, I'm guessing you won't be asking for an audience with the Abbot this evening."

Marin looked over at Tilly before responding. She gave him a slight nod. "No, father," he answered.

Rocking his arms gently, Hobard asked, "What's the plan? Where is this little girl going? I'm assuming Jocelyn refused to take on the responsibility of her actions."

Beginning with a deep breath, Marin recounted what happened after the delivery. Tilly adding details when necessary. How Jocelyn had almost died, but Marin saved her. The way she seemed to blame the child for her near-death experience. Her parent's chilly reception to the newborn. And, of course, how Albert came swooping in and proclaimed that things could go back to the way they had been before, as Lon as there was no baby in the picture. Hobard just nodded without interrupting, bouncing and soothing the baby like the experienced father and grandfather that he was.

But when he got to the part of the story where he and Tilly decided to raise the baby themselves, Marin lost the words. How was he going to tell his father he had broken his vows in earnest and had fallen in love with Tilly? That, after all his father's sacrifices for him, he was going to leave the sanctuary of The Order voluntarily? And to live a life of sin, no less?

"That explains why you have the child with you, but not what your plan is moving forward," Hobard said when Marin had stopped talking.

"Well..." Marin started, his eyes falling on Tilly.

"I see," Hobard said.

"You see?" Marin turned to his father. "What do you mean? What do you see?"

"Well, I've noticed how the two of you have been looking at each other, sneaking around, and stealing private moments ever since getting back from Hobson's farm. I may be getting on in years, but I'm not blind." Hobard shook his head, a half-smile on his lips, and looked back down at the babe.

"I'm so sorry." Marin hung his head, a wave of shame crashing over him. Tilly also looked away.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?" Hobard cocked his head and looked back at his son.

"I've broken my vows. And after everything you've done for me. Please forgive me, father." He could feel his lip tremble, and he bit down on it.

"All I've ever wanted to do was protect you, Marin. To see you safe and happy."

"I know that, father, and..."

"And nothing," Hobard cut him off. "When your mother died, The Order was where you could start fresh and be your true self. But, you're an adult now, and can make the choices that are best for you."

"But, I have sinned," Marin whispered. He and Tilly had sinned right here on this very floor less than twenty-four hours before.

"Sinned? Nonsense. This is the path that God has set out for you. Even Jocelyn seems to have played her part." Hobard indicated the baby in his arms.

"I guess you are right, but..."

"No buts. I am right. And, Tilly?" Hobard turned to the young woman who had been sitting quietly across from him and Marin.

"Yes?" She looked up at him, a nervous look in her eye. Was she also remembering how recently they had sinned right here in this space?

"You know about Marin's past? Yes?" Hobard asked.

"Yes, of course. I–"

"You knew Maggie," Hobard finished for her. "Do you remember meeting me, as well? You came to visit our farm on at least two occasions when you were a young girl."

"I do, of course. Visiting Maggie those few times were such highlights for me. They are memories that I cherish. I didn't realize you knew who I was."

"You made an impression. You were such a confident girl. And you've grown to be a determined and skilled woman. Someone I'd be proud to call a daughter-in-law."

"Sir?" Tears brimmed Tilly's eyes at his kind words.

"Do you love my child?" he asked in earnest.

Tilly looked over at Marin. "Yes," she said without any doubt in her voice. All the confidence and determination of her soul poured into that one simple word.

"And accept him?"

"Of course."

"See, Marin?" Hobard turned back to his son. "You may have broken the vows you made to The Order, but you have broken no promise to me. Tilly will love, accept, and protect you. And because of that, you have my blessing."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Marin was momentarily speechless. But he soon found his voice. "We must leave The Order. I don't know where we will go, but we must find a new home. I don't want to leave you by yourself, father. Come with us."

"I'm too old to start new again." Hobard shook his head, his eyes sad, but his jaw firm.

"At least let us take you to Hobson's," Marin pleaded.

"No, my child. I'm not all by myself here. I've lived here for over eight years. I have friends. A routine. A purpose. And I'm not a prisoner. I can go visit Hobson and his family whenever I like. And if you are there, I'll visit even more often. But I enjoy having my room. My space. You will take my love with you wherever you go, but I plan to spend the rest of my days here on this hill."

The baby cried.

"Here," Tilly stood and held her hands out. "She must be hungry again."

"There you go, baby girl. Back to Mommy," Hobard said as he passed the bundle back.

Mommy, Marin thought about that word. How Tilly might not have given birth to that baby, but her maternal instinct had still taken over. There was no doubt in his mind that she was that child's mother.

"The sun is setting, but we don't even know what the plan is for tonight, never mind forever," Tilly changed the focus of the conversation as she took out the bottle of goat's milk and gave drops to the baby's open mouth.

"Hobson's, of course," Hobard answered without hesitation.

"We can't live in Addersfield," Marin protested.

"I didn't say you had to live there. But that should be your first destination before you figure everything else out. Besides, it's already autumn. Winter is fast approaching. This is not the time to set up a new homestead. Go to Hobson's now, figure out your next steps later. Then, find someplace to settle in the spring."

"You make it sound so easy," Marin said.

"Nothing is easy. But it's what you have to do."

Tilly and Marin looked at each other for a long moment. "We don't have any time to spare. We have to make it to the East gate of Curander as soon as possible. Father, are you positive that you won't come with us?"

"I am sure. But send my love."

"Father, I am going to miss you. Thank you so much for everything!" Marin threw his hands around his father's neck, squeezing him tight. How could he ever repay his father's love and generosity? The only way was to pass it on to the next generation. To be at least half as wonderful a dad to this little girl as his father was to him.