Chapter 9 - The Lake House
Six months later.
The summer sun reflected off the calm, crystal-blue waters of Lake Michigan, casting shimmering diamonds of light across the white sand beach.
The air was warm, smelling of pine trees, sweet water, and summer grass.
I stood on the wide wooden deck of our two-story cedar lake house, resting my elbows against the white railing, watching the horizon.
Below on the beach, Mark was kneeling in the sand, helping Chloe build a massive, intricate sandcastle equipped with shell towers and a deep moat filled with lake water.
He looked completely changed.
He had gained his weight back. His skin was golden-brown from the summer sun, his smile quick and radiant. The horrific scars on his wrists from the hospital restraints had faded into pale, faint lines that were barely noticeable unless you knew where to look.
He was alive. Whole. Free.
My phone chimed softly on the patio table behind me.
I picked it up. It was a text message from Detective Miller, who had become a close family friend over the past six months, visiting us at the lake house whenever he had a weekend off.
“Thought you’d like to know: Karl Richter’s final appeal was rejected today. He starts his thirty-year sentence at ADX Florence tomorrow morning. Salgado got twenty. The book is closed, Claire.”
I looked at the message for a long moment, feeling the last remaining knot of tension in my chest loosen and dissolve completely into the summer wind.
The book is closed.
I lowered the phone, slipping it into my pocket, and walked down the wooden stairs of the deck onto the warm, soft sand.
"Mommy! Look!" Chloe shouted, pointing proudly at the high sand tower she had just crowned with a blue feather. "Daddy says we can build a bridge to the big island!"
"It looks magnificent, sweetie," I said, dropping to my knees beside them in the sand.
Mark leaned over, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me close against his side. He pressed a warm, soft kiss against my temple, resting his forehead against mine.
"What are you thinking about?" Mark whispered gently.
"I was thinking about six months ago," I admitted honestly, looking into his deep, warm brown eyes. "I was thinking about how close I came to losing everything."
"You didn't lose anything, Claire," Mark said softly, taking my hand and pressing my palm against his chest, right over his heart.
I felt the steady, powerful, rhythmic beat of his pulse beneath my fingertips.
Thump... Thump... Thump...
Strong. Alive. Undeniable.
May you like
"You saved my life," Mark whispered. "You and our daughter."
"No," I smiled, looking over at Chloe, who was giggling as a gentle wave washed over her sand moat. "We just listened to what was right in front of us."
