The New Beginning
Later that night, Nolan and I lit a candle in Mom’s kitchen—the same lavender and lemon scent she always loved.
We opened the recipe box together. Beneath the flapjack recipe was the photo Jane had taken at the funeral.
It showed the coffin, the flowers, and Jane standing proudly beside them, bear in hand, smiling as though she knew she belonged.
Behind her, faintly reflected in the glass, were eyes. Familiar eyes. Mom’s eyes. Watching.
Maybe it was just the light. Or maybe not.
I passed the photo to Nolan. He whispered, “She’s part of this family now.”
And we both knew it was true.
