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... the orchard, its ribbons still fluttering in the breeze. Jude stepped barefoot between sapling rows, dew soaking his feet and calling forth each memory they had sown since claiming this place. Each plant represented a vow, names whispered, seeds offered, courage affirmed. The moon had left behind faint luminescence in the sky; now the rising sun breathed warmth and possibility into leaves. Eleven wives, two children, and he, once strangers, now family, walked through rows of hope.
Grace ...
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