Chapter 97 The Next Flood
The Kane family had always known that traditions don’t die—they evolve.
It was a crisp November weekend in Evergreen Hollow, the first real snow of the season blanketing the ground in soft white. The pond had frozen early this year, smooth and perfect.
The backyard rink boards—stacked since Rowan and Holly’s passing—were pulled out again.
Not by the older generation.
By the new.
Harper Lily Ellis—twenty-five, pro forward with the Boston Fleet, fresh off her rookie championship—led the charge.
Rowan Nathan Ellis—twenty-three, starting goalie for a top college program.
Luna Joy Ellis—eighteen, freshman defenseman at Denver.
Mia Kane—twenty-eight, veteran pro.
Leo Kane—twenty-five, assistant coach in the minors.
Sofia and Mateo Rivera—twenty-nine, both analysts now.
They gathered with their partners and young children, determined.
“This rink floods this year,” Harper declared. “For Grandpa and Grandma.”
The family agreed.
No one argued about it.
Lily and Nathan, Everett and Elise, Clara and Alex, Rowie and Jordan—now the grandparents—watched from the porch, eyes shining.
The younger generation worked together: hauling boards, laying liner, hooking the hose.
Laughter echoed—memories shared, stories retold.
Harper directing like her mom Rowie.
Rowan in net position already, testing the ice.
Luna smoothing with the broom like Clara once had.
When the ice was ready—smooth as glass—they strung the lights.
The old string lights—dark since Rowan and Holly’s passing.
Harper flipped the switch.
Nothing.
Silence.
Then—one bulb flickered.
Then another.
The string glowed soft. Steady. Warm.
The family gasped.
Lily’s tears instant.
Everett’s quiet “No way…”
Clara’s hand to her chest.
Rowie’s smile through tears.
Jordan’s whisper: “They’re here.”
The lights pulsed once—slow, deliberate.
Like a heartbeat.
Then settled into gentle glow.
The younger generation looked at the elders—tears, wonder.
Harper’s voice broke. “It’s them.”
Rowan Nathan nodded, eyes wet. “Saying it’s okay.”
Luna whispered, “We’ve got it now.”
The family gathered on the ice—slow skate, hands linked.
Stories shared.
Tears and laughter.
The lights glowed all night—soft, steady.
Guiding the new generation.
When dawn came, the lights dimmed—gentle, peaceful.
But didn’t go dark.
They stayed on—soft glow.
As if to say: We’re still here.
Watching.
The younger generation took over the tradition.
Flooding every winter.
Stringing the lights.
Telling the stories.
The Kane family—now led by Harper, Rowan, Luna, and the others—carried it forward.
The ice carried new dreams.
The water new strokes.
And in Evergreen Hollow, under skies full of stars and the glow of lights that never quite went out, the story continued.
From mistletoe bets to championships to quiet nights under the lights.
One generation to the next.
One heartbeat, one breath, one perfect day at a time.
Forever.
And in the hush of that perfect night, the lights glowed brighter.
A new chapter beginning.