Chapter 9 - THE STRAWBERRY MOON
Six Months Later. Boulder, Colorado.
The smell of vanilla and warm sugar filled the rustic kitchen of our cabin.
Outside the window, snow fell softly over the pine trees, blanketing the mountain valley in a peaceful, brilliant white.
I pulled the cake pans out of the oven, setting them on the cooling rack.
“Is it ready yet, Mom?”
I turned around and smiled. Sophie was sitting at the wooden kitchen island, her legs swinging, covered in flour. She was wearing a slightly oversized sweater that Dominic had bought for her at a local market.
She had called me 'Mom' for the first time two months ago. It hadn't been forced or planned. It had just slipped out while I was tying her shoes before school, and it had felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“They have to cool first, sweetie,” I laughed, tapping her on the nose with a floury finger. “Otherwise, the buttercream will melt everywhere.”
The front door opened, letting in a gust of crisp mountain air. Dominic walked in, stomping the snow off his boots. He was wearing faded jeans, a heavy flannel jacket, and a relaxed smile that made him look ten years younger. He carried an armful of chopped firewood.
“It’s freezing out there!” he announced, dumping the wood by the stone fireplace. He walked into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, and kissed my cheek. “Smells amazing in here.”
“Just practicing,” I said, leaning back into his embrace. “Sophie’s seventh birthday is next week. We have to perfect the recipe.”
Dominic smiled, looking over my shoulder at the cooling cakes.
Our life was completely different now. Dominic worked as a consultant for a local logistics company. I volunteered at the elementary school library. We didn't have bodyguards. We didn't have thirty-two dinner guests. We just had a quiet, beautiful life.
The FBI trials had concluded a month ago. Vanessa had been sentenced to life without parole in a federal penitentiary. The New Orleans syndicate was completely eradicated. My father’s name had been officially cleared by the Justice Department, his record wiped clean.
Dignity had been restored to the Collins family.
And peace had finally come to the Carusos.
Dominic walked over and picked Sophie up, tossing her into the air and catching her as she shrieked with laughter.
“Daddy, put me down! I’m helping bake!”
“You look like a powdered donut,” Dominic teased, setting her back on the stool.
I walked over to the island and pulled a small, wooden box from my apron pocket. It was a beautiful, hand-carved music box I had found at an antique shop in town.
“I have something for you, Sophie,” I said softly, sliding the box across the counter. “An early birthday present.”
Sophie’s eyes lit up. She carefully opened the lid.
Inside the box, resting on velvet, was the small photograph of Isabella holding baby Sophie. Next to it was the original recipe card.
For my little strawberry moon. Always.
Sophie touched the photograph gently. She didn't look sad. She looked serene.
“Mommy is beautiful,” Sophie whispered.
“She was,” Dominic said, his voice thick with emotion, stepping up beside me and resting his hand on my shoulder. “She loved you very much, Sophie. And she was the bravest woman I ever knew.”
Sophie looked up at Dominic, then looked at me. Her little face broke into a wide, bright smile.
“I’m really glad she sent you to us, Hannah,” Sophie said simply.
My breath caught in my throat. Tears pricked my eyes, but they were tears of pure joy. I pulled Sophie into a tight hug, inhaling the scent of vanilla and childhood.
“I’m glad she sent me too, my little Strawberry Moon,” I whispered.
Dominic wrapped his arms around both of us, pulling us into a warm, unbreakable embrace.
Outside, the sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the snow-covered mountains.
May you like
We were safe. We were loved. We were home.
And the ghosts of the past were finally, peacefully, put to rest.
