EpilogueOur participation in the Manor's Victorian Christmas was uneventful, yet fulfilling to me because of what occurred: absolutely nothing. There were no ominous sounds, collapsing walls, ghostly spectres, all of what I attributed to an amazingly real and surreal dream. The weekend was flawless as visitor after visitor passed through Ringwood's grandeur.
The following spring Adam left; seeking someplace he probably knew didn't exist, in real Jack Kerouac style. I drove him again, this time to the Delaware Water Gap, a point where New Jersey and Pennsylvania meet, dissected by the Delaware River and connected by Route 80. His goodbye was short as he gathered his backpack. I watched from a nearby visitor's center parking lot as Adam hitched a ride from a van that stopped to pick him up.
