Chapter 10 - The Last Gift
Later that night, after the neighbors had gone home and Mom had fallen asleep peacefully in her warm, pristine bedroom upstairs, Dad and I sat alone by the glowing embers of the fireplace.
Two mugs of warm cider rested on the table between us.
“Brenda’s trial starts in February,” I said softly, looking at the fire. “The lawyer assured me she and Greg will serve real time. The house deed is locked in a private family trust now, Dad. No one can ever touch it again.”
Dad was quiet for a long moment, staring down at his hands.
“I was angry at you for a long time, Shawn,” Dad confessed softly, his voice raspy in the quiet room. “When you left twelve years ago... I thought you hated this town. I thought you hated us.”
My heart ached with an old, familiar guilt. “I didn't hate you, Dad. I was just young, foolish, and too proud to admit I was scared of failing.”
Dad raised his head, looking at me with dark, loving eyes that carried no remaining resentment.
“You didn't fail, son,” Dad whispered, reaching out to lay his hand over mine. “You came back when the house was dark. You brought the light back into this family.”
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes with a deep, satisfied sigh.
“This is the best Christmas I’ve had in twenty years,” he murmured softly.
May you like
I looked out the window at the snow falling gently over the quiet town of Pinewood Ridge. The old floorboards no longer rattled with secret terror. The cellar below was sealed, the darkness erased, and the warmth of a real home held us tight against the cold winter night.
I took a sip of my cider, resting my hand over my father’s, knowing that I would never leave them behind again.
