Tess has her eyes on the bag, marveling at the feeling of smooth, polished wood under her callused fingers, but her gaze pops up to him when he says that. She comes to the same conclusion: it's not an eternity, but it's no small thing, either, not going cross-country, not in half a year. The distance is hard to wrap her head around, both Boston and Colorado and the mere feet between them in the blind.

She sets down the bag with open disbelief. Joel wouldn't lie to her, but Colorado?

We? He kept the girl?

"That's a long way to go," she says. The barb of time is shallow under her skin; that he's going thousands of miles on her dying wish penetrates deeper. "You didn't find a Firefly to pass the kid off to?"