Chapter 10
The crisp autumn air of late October brought with it the anniversary of Lily’s tenth birthday—and the dark memory of the smashed cake. Clara had decided weeks in advance that they were going to reclaim the date entirely. They weren't going to let the anniversary of that traumatic evening cast a pall over the household. Instead, they planned a weekend camping trip to the nearby national park, complete with hiking boots, roasted marshmallows over an open campfire, and stargazing away from any walls or rules.
Two days before their trip, a heavy cardboard package arrived on their front porch. It wasn't dropped off by the regular mail carrier, but by a private courier service based in the county where Evelyn lived. Mark picked up the box from the porch, his brow furrowed in concern as he read the return address: Evelyn Vance.
He carried it into the kitchen, setting it down on the wooden dining table as if it might tick. Clara wiped her hands on a dishtowel and walked over, standing beside him. Lily was upstairs finishing her homework, blissfully unaware of the shadow that had just arrived on their doorstep.
"Do you want me to open it?" Clara asked quietly, placing a reassuring hand on Mark’s forearm.
Mark shook his head slowly, taking a deep breath. "No. I should do it. It’s time I stopped hiding from her."
Using a kitchen knife, Mark sliced through the thick packing tape and pulled back the flaps. Inside, nestled beneath layers of yellowed tissue paper, were not legal documents or reprimands, but a collection of items that took Mark’s breath away. There was a hand-carved wooden horse he had made when he was eight years old—a toy he thought his mother had thrown away decades ago. Beside it lay a small silver locket with the initials S.V. engraved on the front, and a handwritten letter folded neatly on top.
Mark unfolded the heavy parchment paper, recognizing his mother’s meticulous, sharp handwriting. He read the words aloud in a low, trembling voice:
Mark,
May you like
I found these while clearing out the attic after you left. They belonged to the children I failed to protect. You were right to leave. Joy is not a sin, Mark, and neither is survival. I am too old to learn how to live in the light, but I release you and your family from the dark. Let Lily have her cake.
— Mother.
