Chapter 8 - The Friday Night Gathering
The coastal wind whipped through the pine trees on Friday evening, but inside the white cottage, the air was thick with warmth, laughter, and the rich, savory aroma of Julian’s seafood stew bubbling on the vintage iron stove.
The dining table was crowded with mismatched plates, bowls of steaming food, and candles flickering in Mason jars. Victoria sat between Julian and Maya, listening to stories of Emily’s chaotic, joyful attempts at gardening—how she had once planted a patch of pumpkins that grew so massive they overtook the front porch, forcing them to climb out second-story windows.
"She had a green thumb for everything except orchids," Julian laughed, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "She bought one expensive orchid for our fifth anniversary, talked to it every single day like it was a person, and it died within a week out of pure intimidation."
Victoria laughed—a genuine, unrestrained sound that she hadn't made in decades. She looked around the table, noticing how the candlelight caught the silver in Julian’s hair, the vibrant intelligence in Maya’s hazel eyes, and the framed photograph of Emily hanging on the kitchen wall, smiling out at them with bright, untamed eyes.
After dinner, while Julian and Maya cleared the dishes, Victoria walked out onto the front porch, wrapping her cashmere shawl tightly around her shoulders against the evening chill. The ocean roared softly in the distance, a steady, eternal heartbeat against the shore.
The screen door creaked open, and Julian stepped out onto the porch, holding two mugs of hot spiced cider. He handed one to Victoria, leaning against the wooden railing beside her.
"Penny for your thoughts," Julian said gently.
Victoria took a sip of the cider, letting the warmth spread through her chest. "I was just thinking about how different my life would have been if I had been as brave as Emily."
"Emily wasn't brave because she wanted to be a rebel, Victoria," Julian said, looking out toward the dark horizon. "She was brave because she knew what she loved, and she refused to let anyone convince her it wasn't enough. She loved me, she loved our life, and she loved you—even when she thought you had turned your back on her."
"I let her down, Julian," Victoria whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "For twenty years, I was my father's daughter. I upheld his rules, I judged her from afar, and I let pride keep me blind."
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Julian placed his hand over hers on the railing. "You can't change the past, Victoria. But you spent the last six months tearing down the walls your father built. Emily is watching from wherever she is, and I promise you, she’s smiling."
Victoria looked at Julian, the last remnants of her lifelong guilt finally washing away into the night air. She smiled, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.
