Chapter 20 - A NEW YEAR’S SUNRISE
One year later.
December 31st.
The golden afternoon sun was sinking over the crystal-blue waters of Maui.
The warm tropical breeze rustled the palm fronds outside the open glass doors of our private beachfront villa. The air smelled of salt water, hibiscus flowers, and roasting pineapple—not stale bourbon, not cold ashes, not bleach.
I stood on the wide wooden terrace, holding a glass of sparkling cider, watching the waves roll gently onto the white sand.
Down by the shore, Calvin—now thirteen, tall, broad-shouldered, and with a confident laugh that filled the air—was teaching Molly how to balance on a paddleboard in the shallow surf. Buster was splashing excitedly around their ankles, barking happily at the gentle foam.
Molly fell into the warm, eighty-degree water with a giant splash, popping back up instantly, her face glowing with pure, unadulterated joy.
“Mom! Look!” she shouted, waving both arms frantically. “I stayed up for ten seconds! Did you count?!”
“I counted twelve seconds, Super-Molly!” I called back, my voice carrying over the sound of the ocean.
Beside me on the terrace, Marcus Reed laughed, leaning against the teak railing with a fresh coconut water in his hand. He had flown out with us for the holiday, along with Victoria, who was currently asleep on a hammock under the shade of a banyan tree with a legal thriller resting on her chest.
“They’ve forgotten the cold, Lauren,” Marcus said softly, looking down at the children.
“No,” I said, watching Calvin reach down into the warm water to lift his sister back onto the board with protective, gentle strength. “They haven't forgotten it. But it doesn't own them anymore.”
My phone chimed softly from the outdoor dining table.
It was an automated notification from the Illinois Department of Corrections Victim Information System.
*“Inmate Vance, Ross. Inmate ID: 2024-CR-89. Status: Incarcerated, Menard Maximum Security Correctional Center. Next parole hearing: April 14, 2046.”*
*“Inmate Vance, Evelyn. Inmate ID: 2024-CR-90. Status: Incarcerated, Logan Correctional Center Geriatric Ward. Next parole hearing: January 10, 2032.”*
I looked at the screen for three seconds.
Then I tapped the screen, unsubscribed from future automated notifications, and dropped the phone into the bottom of my beach bag.
I didn't need updates from a cemetery.
“Mom!” Calvin yelled, running up the wooden stairs from the beach, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders, holding a large pink conch shell. “Look what Molly found by the reef! It’s totally intact!”
Molly bounded up behind him, her sun-kissed cheeks radiant, throwing her wet, warm arms around my waist.
“Happy New Year, Mommy,” she whispered, burying her cheek into my sundress.
May you like
I knelt down on the warm wooden deck and wrapped my arms around both of my children, feeling their strong, steady hearts beating against mine—warm, vibrant, and alive.
“Happy New Year, my babies,” I whispered, looking out at the endless, golden horizon of the Pacific Ocean. “Happy New Year.”
