Of course, she only needed that one. The other memory also involves her stepfather. Toward the end of her thousands-mile-long hike, she’s staring into the fire, recalling how her stepfather had taught her to build a fire and pitch a tent. From him, I’d learned how to open a can with a jackknife and paddle a canoe and skip a rock on the surface of a lake. . . . But I was pretty certain as I sat there that night that if it hadn’t been for Eddie, I wouldn’t have found myself on [the trail]. . . . He hadn’t loved me well in the end, but he had loved me well when it mattered. So
