Chapter 8 - Where the Birds Land
Six months later.
The early spring breeze blew softly across the grassy hills of Lake Forest, carrying the sweet scent of fresh clover and apple blossoms.
A small white farmhouse sat atop the rise, its front porch looking out over a wide, clear pond reflecting the blue sky above.
Sitting on the wooden porch steps was Marlo Quint.
She wore a soft cream-colored sweater, jeans, and sneakers. In her hands, she held a mug of hot coffee, watching three seven-year-old girls in matching yellow rain boots splashing happily in the shallow water at the edge of the pond.
“Don't get your socks wet, girls!” a deep voice called out from the porch doorway.
Desmond Vale stepped out onto the porch, carrying a wooden tray with fresh cinnamon rolls. He looked healthy, strong, and completely recovered, the dark shadow of his accident long gone from his eyes.
He set the tray down on the porch table, walked over to Marlo, and sat down beside her on the wooden step, resting his arm comfortably behind her back.
“How was the hospital today, Director?” Desmond asked, a playful glint in his eye.
“Quiet,” Marlo smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We ran a mass-casualty drill with the county EMS. Dr. Kolhne actually let a resident lead the FAST scan without taking the probe out of his hand.”
Desmond laughed softly, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer against his side. “The man is soft now. You broke him, Marlo.”
“I didn't break him,” Marlo said, looking out at the pond where Maya, Nora, and Chloe were currently trying to catch a small green frog. “I just reminded him why we do what we do.”
She looked up at the corner of the porch post.
Mounted securely in a small weather-proof shadow box beside the front door was the wooden frame the triplets had given her—the three yellow ribbons and the unknotted orange tape sitting side-by-side in the sunlight.
No longer a symbol of a dusty valley or a lost squad leader.
Now, a symbol of life, of family, and of a promise kept.
Suddenly, Maya looked up from the pond, spotting a small brown songbird perching on the low branch of the apple tree above the porch.
“Look, Daddy!” Maya shouted, pointing her small hand toward the sky. “It’s a sparrow!”
The small bird chirped once, spread its delicate wings, and soared high into the clear, boundless blue sky, flying free and unburdened over the green hills.
May you like
Desmond looked down at Marlo, his eyes full of endless warmth, and kissed her forehead softly.
“Yeah,” Desmond whispered, smiling as Marlo squeezed his hand tightly. “She’s right where she belongs.”
