Chapter 12: The Master Craftsman’s Child
Two years passed.
The Vance Center for Elder Dignity had expanded to include a free pediatric respite clinic and an open-access community woodworking academy.
In the timber workshop beside the marsh, Caleb was helping four-year-old Thomas—named in memory of Allison’s father—carve a small wooden toy sailboat from a block of white cedar.
Little Thomas, with his father’s grey eyes and his mother’s determined chin, was tapping a small wooden mallet against a wooden peg, giggling with delight.
""Daddy! Look!"" Thomas shouted, holding up the boat. ""The mast is straight! No wobbles!""
Caleb knelt down in the fragrant cedar shavings, taking the boat with his large hands and inspecting the joinery with a proud, loving grin.
""That is master-grade woodwork, son,"" Caleb smiled, kissing the boy’s forehead. ""Just like your mother builds her briefs.""
Allison walked into the workshop, wearing her linen legal coat, holding a clipboard of newly approved public housing grants. She leaned against the heavy oak bench, watching her husband and son laugh together in the warm afternoon light.
Her soul was completely at peace.
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The cold hospital rooms of Philadelphia, the forged consent forms, and the dark terrors of the past had long since dissolved like morning fog before the rising sun.
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