Chapter 11: A House in the Valley
The house in the Hudson Valley was an old two-story farmhouse surrounded by maple trees and rolling hills. It was a world away from the screeching tires and cold marble of Manhattan.
For the first few weeks, the silence was almost deafening. Vincent would wake up at 4:00 AM, his hand instinctively reaching for a sidearm that was no longer under his pillow. Instead, he would walk down to the kitchen, make a pot of black coffee, and watch the mist rise off the grass.
Clara found him there one morning, leaning against the wooden porch railing. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek against his back.
"You're still waiting for the door to be kicked in," she said softly.
"Habit," he admitted, covering her hands with his own. "When you spend fifteen years living like a wolf, it’s hard to remember you’re allowed to sleep."
"You aren't a wolf anymore, Vincent. Look."
Through the kitchen window, Lily was sitting at the wooden table, humming to herself as she poured milk over a giant bowl of strawberries and cereal. She wasn't rushing. She wasn't hiding food in her pockets like she used to during her first week at the farm.
"She gained four pounds," Clara whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Dr. Mercer said her vitals are completely normal."
Vincent kissed Clara’s forehead, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to melt away. "Then the work is done."
May you like
"No," Clara corrected gently. "Now the real work begins."
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