Chapter 9 - Healing the Scars
Six weeks later, the spring had finally arrived in earnest.
The wild apple trees in our backyard were covered in thick, white blossoms that drifted through the warm air like sweet-smelling snow. The grass was green and lush, and the garden Hannah had planted was starting to come back to life—small, green shoots of lavender and rosemary pushing through the dark soil.
I stood on the back porch, holding a cup of hot tea, watching Lily.
She was sitting on the old wooden bench under the largest apple tree, her sketchpad in her lap. She had her mother's jacket draped over her shoulders, but she wasn't hiding inside it anymore. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, her face catching the warm, golden light of the late-afternoon sun.
Dave walked out of the house, holding two cold bottles of beer. He handed one to me and leaned against the railing, his eyes watching Lily with a quiet, paternal softness that he rarely let anyone see.
"She looks like Hannah," Dave said quietly.
"She does," I agreed, taking a sip of the beer. "Every day she looks more like her."
"The compliance office finished their investigation," Dave said, his tone turning professional. "Vance’s partners are cutting deals. The school's endowment is safe, and the board has set up a permanent scholarship fund in Hannah’s name. For working-class kids who want to study art."
I looked down at my hands. They were still stained with grease from a transmission job, but the skin was whole, the raw, angry scrub marks gone.
"You're a good man, Sam," Dave said, his hand finding my shoulder, his grip heavy and steady. "Hannah would have been proud of the way you handled this."
"I didn't want this, Dave," I said. "I wanted to fix cars."
"Sometimes the universe doesn't care what you want, Sam," Dave said, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly tone. "Sometimes it just needs a man who knows how to hold the line when everyone else is running."
May you like
He clinked his bottle against mine, turned, and walked back to his Suburban. As the heavy engine rumbled to life and his tires crunched over the gravel driveway, I watched the black machine disappear down the road, leaving nothing but a cloud of warm dust in the spring air.
He was gone, back to the shadows he lived in. But the light he had helped us find was still here.
