CHAPTER 27: MAISIE’S TWELFTH HORIZON
CHAPTER 27: MAISIE’S TWELFTH HORIZON
The summer sun was exceptionally bright over the northern valley two years later.
Wildflowers covered the rolling hills in a vibrant sea of yellow and violet, the clean mountain air completely clear of the old, heavy smoke of suspicion.
Maisie was twelve now.
She stood near the wooden porch of the main cabin, her hair long and shining, her face glowing with a bright, fearless confidence. She didn't look down at the floorboards to see if there was blood. She didn't run from the shadows of pickup trucks blocking the driveway.
She sat down at the small piano we had moved into the sunlit greenhouse, her fingers tracing the keys with an easy, fluid grace.
She began to play a beautiful, light melody—not a song of grief, but a song of a new beginning.
Our mother sat beside her, turning the pages of the sheet music, her face peaceful and unburdened.
Chelsea walked up the porch steps, handing me a cold glass of iced tea as we stood near the railing to watch them.
“She’s strong, Evelyn,” Chelsea murmured, her arm wrapping gently around my waist.
May you like
“She gets that from the family we chose,” I said, leaning my head against her shoulder.
“The honest one.”
