She stood in the doorway and looked back at Rose, smiling. The woman stood slowly from her chair, looking at it cautiously, as though it might reach up and drag her down. When it didn’t, she jumped away from it, out of whatever reach it might have.

“Ready?”

Rose nodded tentatively and followed her into the hall. Alva led the way to the stairs, remembering her own recent flight down a very different version of them. When she crossed the landing, an ornate, perfectly polished iteration of it, she heard Sam’s voice.

I love you, he said. Come back to me.

I will, she promised, and kept walking.

They crossed through the dining room and two small sitting rooms before they reached the entrance. Three steps from the front door it changed, into a heavy metal door with a small barred window at the top.

“I’m not allowed to leave,” Rose said weakly, and when Alva glanced at her she saw tears rolling down her cheeks. “They won’t let me.”

“Of course they will,” Alva said, closing her eyes and sending one quick prayer to whoever might be listening. “I have the key.”

Keeping her eyes closed, she reached into the pocket of her skirts. A key, she thought, a key that will open this door.

Her hands closed around metal, and she had to choke down the shout of triumph that threatened to erupt from her throat. Rose wanted to leave, too, and desperately wanted to believe she could. Enough that this key had appeared when it was wished for.

Alva took the key out as if it wasn’t miraculous at all and fitted it in the lock. When she turned it there was an enormous groaning sound, like an entire factory of machines had come to a stop all at once, and the door swung open.

Sunlight beamed through the opening, bathing the two women in its warm, loving light, and Alva reached back, took Rose’s hand, and stepped outside.

It was a perfect summer day. The smell of grass and dried dirt hit Alva first, followed by the sight of the lazy river, rolling along under the sun as though it hadn’t anywhere better to be. There were birds singing in the trees, and some children in the distance launching model boats onto the water. Rose clung to Alva’s hand, and when Alva turned to look at her she saw Rose’s gaze locked on the building behind her rather than the perfect scene in front.

Alva followed her gaze, looking up at a huge stone building that flickered between Liefdehuis and Bloomingdale. “You don’t have to go back there,” she said. “Ever.”

Rose jerked around, staring at Alva. “Mother and Father released me?” she breathed, as though she didn’t dare to hope.