New Beginnings, Old Shadows
New Beginnings, Old Shadows
A week after the court had spoken, Sharon and Peter stood before the Denver mansion, its spires reaching toward a gray ceiling, dust and memory in the air. Sharon held Peter's hand tightly. "You sure?" he asked, his voice soft.
"Yes," she replied, gaze tracing the face of the mansion. "There are horrors here—Addicus, his cruelty—but there is also joy, my childhood. Maybe it can be joy for someone else."
"It will," Peter replied, holding her hand.
A wrecking ball hit the east wing of the mansion, stone shattering, a cloud of dust rising. A team of laborers crawled all over it, their task to repurpose the estate as an orphanage, funded by Sharon's own money. She'd direct it, giving shelter to children with no family of their own, a legacy of light in the darkness of Addicus. The destruction was purging, each hit scrubbing away his shadow, though a chill lingered, as if the past were not quite in the ground.
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Two months later, it was all different. Sharon and Peter were in their living room in Jacksonville, the scent of coffee and salt air floating through open windows, "What does Chris want to talk about?" Sharon asked, snuggling into Peter.
"His future, probably," Peter said, air-quoting with a grin.
Chris came in, suitcase in his hand, a wide grin creasing his craggy face. "What's with the suitcase?" Peter asked.
"I've been doing some thinking," Chris began, "about what I want. I'm traveling the world, seeing it all."
"By yourself?" Sharon asked in surprise.
"Who said by myself?" Chris smiled. There was a knock on the door, and he opened it to Jinx—reformed. Her hair was loose, her usual combat clothing changed for a flowy dress, her face less hard-line but just as sharp.
"Jinx?" Peter gawked.
"Me," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Don't make a thing of it."
“What’s happening?” Sharon asked, confused.
“Joanne and I,” Chris said, nodding to Jinx, “have been together two months. We’re traveling together.”
“I’ve seen the world for jobs—killing, mostly,” Jinx admitted. “Never stayed for fun. Chris convinced me to quit, see it for real. Figured I’d try.”
“That’s amazing!” Peter said, hugging Chris. “Hope it works out.”
“Who’s Joanne?” Sharon asked, puzzled.
Chris and Peter laughed, Jinx raising her hand. “Me,” she said, smiling.
They led Chris and Jinx to their car, a beat-up convertible, its radio playing The Cars. "Will I see you again?" Peter asked Chris, throat thick.
"Fate brought us back after fifteen years," Chris replied, thwacking his shoulder. "It'll happen again. Godspeed, brother."
They hugged, the car driving off, Jinx's laughter fading into the distance. Peter hugged Sharon hard, kissing her cheek. "Think they'll make it?" she asked.
"Chris and Jinx?" Peter chuckled. "They're wildcards. It'll be a miracle, but possibly."
Sharon's face was white inside as nausea hit her hard. She put a hand over her mouth, running to the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet. Peter came behind her, concern written on his face. "Honey, are you alright?"
She didn't answer, scrubbing her mouth, her mind spinning. The nausea was familiar—mornings had been tough of late, her body whispering of something profound. Addicus was gone, her life returned, but this—could it be new beginnings, a life growing inside her? She exchanged a glance with Peter, a silent question emerging, as a distant rumble, like the truck off the cliff, was heard in the distance, suggesting the past wasn't done with them yet.