Chapter 10 - The Music in the Valley
That evening, the valley was painted in shades of orange and purple as the sun dipped below the hills. The air was warm, filled with the scent of pine and fresh earth.
Brinley and I sat on the porch swing together, a bowl of fresh strawberries between us. She had the music box in her lap, her small fingers winding the key with practiced ease. The soft, clear notes of the lullaby floated out into the evening air, blending with the sound of the crickets in the grass.
She looked up at me, her eyes clear, deep, and completely present. "Mama?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Do you remember when you told me the boat didn't crash?"
"I remember every word, baby."
She leaned her head against my side, her small hand reaching up to touch the silver locket around my neck. "My boat didn't crash either. We're both on the grass."
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I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, smelling the sunshine and clean soap in her hair. The five years of silence, the heat of the desert, the terror of that dark basement—all of it was washed away by the steady, beautiful rhythm of her breathing against my chest.
We were home, the doors were unlocked, the garden was growing, and the music was never going to stop again.
