Chapter 10 - Where the Light Comes In
Seven months later, the cherry blossoms in our front yard were in full, explosive bloom.
The spring breeze carried the scent of wet grass and lilac through the open kitchen windows. From the dining room table, laughter floated toward me—bright, easy, and completely free of tension.
June was sitting next to Becca, holding six-week-old baby Maya in her arms.
Becca looked radiant, the hollow shadows beneath her eyes replaced by the soft glow of new motherhood. Her divorce from Scott was moving toward finalization; she had moved into a lovely townhouse three miles from our home, close to her parents and within easy reach of our neighborhood.
When Scott’s world collapsed, Becca had made a brave, definitive choice: she refused to let his toxic legacy infect her daughter’s life. Instead, she had reached out to me. We had built an unexpected, solid friendship forged out of shared survival and a fierce, mutual determination to ensure that June and Maya grew up knowing they were sisters, bound by love rather than Scott’s failures.
Scott was currently serving an eighteen-month sentence at a minimum-security state correctional facility following his guilty plea to two counts of identity theft and one count of forgery. His wages at the prison commissary were already being garnished toward June’s restored trust account, which Evelyn had successfully locked down under a court-monitored protective vault.
“Look at her,” June cooed, gently rocking Maya as the baby stared up at her with enormous, navy-blue eyes. “Mom, she’s smiling at me!”
“She knows her big sister,” Becca said softly, resting her chin on her hand, watching the two of them with immense gratitude. “She always calms down the second you pick her up, Junie.”
June beamed.
There was no burden in her posture now. No fear of an impending phone call, no anxiety about adult bills or broken promises. Her shoulders were relaxed, her laugh uninhibited.
On the credenza behind the table sat the pale yellow blanket with the tiny ducks that June had picked out months ago. Maya was wrapped in it now, safe and warm.
Beside the blanket was a framed certificate: June had won first place in the regional youth art showcase for her graphite drawing of a fledgling blue jay taking flight from a tangled thicket of thorns. The prize had come with a two-hundred-dollar scholarship, which June had proudly walked down to our local credit union to deposit into her own, personal savings account—an account that had only one signature on the card.
Mine.
“Hey, Junie,” Becca said, reaching into her diaper bag. “Before I forget—I have an official business proposal for you.”
June looked up, curious. “What kind of proposal?”
Becca pulled out a small, pastel envelope and handed it to her.
“I have to go back to my graphic design job two afternoons a week starting next month,” Becca explained, smiling warmly. “My mom is taking Maya on Tuesdays, but I need someone I trust with all my heart to come over on Thursday afternoons for two hours while I take client Zoom calls. Real babysitting. Fifteen dollars an hour, paid every Thursday at five o'clock sharp. But only if you want the job. No pressure, no family guilt. Just a fair business deal between two people who love this little girl.”
June looked at the envelope, then down at the baby sleeping peacefully against her chest.
She looked across the room at me. I gave her an encouraging, open nod, letting her know the decision was entirely her own.
June turned back to Becca, a bright, confident smile spreading across her face.
“I accept,” June said proudly. “On one condition.”
Becca chuckled. “What condition?”
“I get to teach her how to draw ducks,” June said.
May you like
The kitchen filled with laughter—warm, genuine, and untainted by the shadows of the past.
Outside, the spring wind swept through the yard, scattering pale pink petals across the green grass, carrying away the last remnants of the winter we had left behind for good.
