Chapter 9 - The Black Orchid
We lived in a state of beautiful, uninterrupted grace for six months.
Aaron learned to crawl. Caleb found work at a local boatyard, his hands growing calloused and steady. Daniel visited often, slowly shedding the cold armor of his past and learning how to smile again.
But the past is a predator that never truly sleeps.
It was a Tuesday afternoon. The mail carrier dropped a small, unassuming cardboard box on the porch.
I brought it inside and placed it on the kitchen island. There was no return address.
I grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced through the packing tape. I opened the cardboard flaps, pulling back a layer of black tissue paper.
My heart completely stopped beating in my chest.
Resting inside the box, perfectly preserved and terrifyingly beautiful, was a single, fresh black orchid.
Claire Whitlock’s signature flower.
I backed away from the counter, the scissors slipping from my hand and clattering loudly against the wooden floor.
"Hannah?"
Caleb asked, walking into the kitchen wiping grease from his hands.
He saw my face, completely drained of color, and then he saw the flower.
"Call Daniel,"
May you like
Caleb ordered, his voice instantly dropping into a hardened, survivalist register.
"Right now."
