Chapter 10
The winter brought cold heavy rains,
turning the coastal road to mud,
keeping the family inside the house.
The fire roared in the fireplace,
crackling softly as cedar wood burned,
warming the cozy living room space.
Arthur sat in his large armchair,
his old joints aching from weather,
his breathing a little bit slower.
He was getting older every year,
his thick silver hair thinning out,
his strong hands shaking slightly sometimes.
Quincy noticed the subtle gradual change,
and began taking over heavy tasks,
carrying the large logs of wood.
He spent more time in workshop,
learning the advanced techniques of restoration,
honoring the old man's valuable craft.
Arthur watched him with deep pride,
knowing his legacy was very safe,
in the hands of his son.
"You have the feel for wood,"
Arthur told him one cold afternoon,
"just like you have for paint."
"It takes patience and soft touch,"
he whispered looking at a boat,
"to bring the beauty back out."
Quincy nodded his head with respect,
absorbing every bit of wisdom given,
treasuring these quiet moments together fully.
Violet sat on floor nearby them,
reading a book about old ships,
her imagination sailing across deep seas.
She was doing excellent in school,
top of her class in reading,
loved by her classmates and teachers.
The boy from the sandbox playground,
whose name was sweet little Tommy,
had become her best loyal friend.
They shared lunches every single day,
building castles in the grey sand,
unbothered by differences in world.
Eleanor watched them from kitchen counter,
feeling a profound sense of gratitude,
for the peace they finally achieved.
She spent her days helping Martha,
managing the family's growing finances now,
from the successful art gallery sales.
They were no longer poor survivors,
they were stable and secure financially,
able to buy whatever they needed.
But their needs remained very simple,
just the warmth of the fire,
and the love they shared together.
A letter arrived from the advocate,
confirming that Garrett had passed away,
quietly in his prison hospital bed.
There was no sadness in house,
no tears shed for his passing,
only a final sense of release.
The last physical tie to past,
had dissolved into nothingness completely today,
leaving only a clean bright sky.
Eleanor took the official notification paper,
and threw it into hot fire,
watching it burn to black ash.
The flames consumed the old name,
erasing the last bit of dark,
purifying their lives completely forever more.
Quincy looked up from his work,
seeing the smoke rise up chimney,
knowing they were completely free now.
The world outside was cold stormy,
May you like
but inside their beautiful coastal home,
the light was eternal and warm.
