Chapter 14 - Bia’s Eighth Birthday
Spring returned, bringing warm breezes and blooming wild daffodils.
On the upstate farm, the backyard was decorated with pastel ribbons and colorful balloons.
Children from the local school ran across the lawn playing tag.
A large strawberry shortcake sat on the picnic table.
It was June twelfth.
Bia was turning eight years old.
She wore a yellow sundress, her hair tied back in two neat braids.
Her laughter rang across the field as she chased a golden retriever puppy Ricardo had adopted.
Ricardo stood by the barbecue grill, flipping burgers with a satisfied smile.
Arthur Pendelton sat on a lawn chair, sipping lemonade and watching the kids play.
"She looks happy, Ricardo," Arthur commented gently.
"She’s resilient," Ricardo answered, watching his niece.
"Children have a way of finding the sunlight even after the darkest winters."
Bia ran over, panting with laughter, holding the puppy in her arms.
"Uncle Ricardo! Barnaby stole my ribbon!" she giggled.
Ricardo bent down, ruffled the puppy’s ears, and handed Bia a small glass of apple cider.
"Happy birthday, Bia," Ricardo said warmly.
Bia looked up at him, her dark eyes bright and full of life.
The shadow of the dark chapel was gone.
The terror of the poisoned teacups had faded into a distant, faded nightmare.
She was safe.
May you like
She was loved.
And she was home.
