Chapter 9 - Healing in the Sunlight

Six months later. March 2027.

The sun was shining brightly over Coronado Beach in San Diego. The ocean waves crashed gently against the white sand, and a soft, warm breeze blew through the palm trees lining the boardwalk.

I sat on a large blue blanket on the sand, wearing sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat. James sat beside me, reading a book, his arm wrapped around my waist.

Twenty feet away, near the edge of the foam, Lily was running through the shallow water in a bright pink swimsuit, holding a yellow plastic bucket.

Her physical therapy had been a complete success. The scar behind her right ear had faded to a thin, silver line hidden beneath her thick, dark curls. Her laughter—bright, clear, and unburdened by fear—echoed over the sound of the ocean.

"Look, Mommy! Look what I found!" Lily squealed, running toward us across the sand, holding up a bright red seashell.

I knelt down as she approached, catching her in my arms and lifting her high into the air as she giggled with pure delight.

"It’s beautiful, baby!" I said, kissing her soft cheek. "Did the ocean give that to you?"

"Yes!" Lily grinned, her clear green eyes sparkling with health and happiness. "Can we keep it forever?"

"We can keep it forever," James said, leaning over to scoop both of us into a big, warm hug.

As I held my daughter against my chest, feeling her little heart beating strongly, my phone vibrated in my beach bag.

I pulled it out. It was a formal notification from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation.

My father’s first appeal for a sentence reduction had been summarily rejected by the Appellate Court. He would remain in Pelican Bay until at least 2038. My mother had moved back to a small town in Arizona, living alone on a tiny state pension, completely isolated from her former social circle. My siblings had scattered, their toxic orbit finally broken forever.

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“We don’t want you here. Go ruin someone else’s holiday.”

The rain lashed against the tall, gothic windows of Blackwood Manor like...

“Take that disgusting thing off my table.”

I looked at the screen for a brief second, then hit Delete.

I placed the phone back into the dark depths of my bag and zipped it shut.