Page 84 of Shattered Echoes

The shop owner turns to me, smiling and adjusting the horn-rimmed spectacles sitting on her nose. “Hello, there. What can I do for you?”

I look around the shop, taking in the various colors and variety of flowers. “I’d like to get a bouquet for someone.”

She chuckles. “A special choice for a special lady. What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” I reply, scratching the back of my neck. “I’ve been away for a while, and… well, she’s pregnant with my child, and I’d love to propose to her.”

The shop owner claps and hurries forward. “That’s so sweet! Come here.” She grabs my hand and tows me to a corner of her busy room.

She picks out several flowers and binds them with a ribbon. She hands the massive bouquet to me, beaming. “I’m sorry about all the colors, but sometimes, a little color goes a long way.” She squints at me. “Why, you look more nervous than a chicken crossing a highway.”

That obvious? I sigh. “It’s just… It’s been so long. I don’t know what to expect. What if—”

“You do your best to cut that out, young man,” the shop owner scolds. “You’re going to go through with this. Whatever mistakes you made, just know that all you need is a willingness to do better. So, cheer up, and go propose to that lovely lady.”

“Will do, ma’am,” I say with a tired smile, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket. “How much for the bouquet?”

“For this?” she replies, patting my arm. “The only payment I want is a wedding invitation from you. Deal?”

I chuckle in disbelief. “Looks like you got yourself a deal.” I thank her and leave the flower shop, feeling lighter than I did when I first went in.

The jeweler’s shop is nestled in the heart of town, between a bakery and a bookstore. The store owner is not as chatty as the florist, but he loves to talk about his pieces.

“I have just the ring for you,” he says when I tell him what I want. He opens a safe in the corner and pulls out a sparkling piece sitting on a plush velvet bed.

The ring, an exquisite creation of brilliant diamond set in a band of lustrous gold, gleams with a timeless elegance. Each facet of the diamond catches the light, scattering it into a thousand tiny rainbows, while the gold band, smooth and warm, adds a touch of rustic charm.

This is no ordinary ring — it bears the mark of a master craftsman, its delicate design and sparkling centerpiece a testament to the personalized care that only a local artisan can provide.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe. Not only is it a lovely piece of jewelry, but I did not expect to find anything that nice in Shadow’s Bend. This will do.

With the ring in my breast pocket and the bouquet in my hand, I return to the car. I’m still nervous, but it’s the good kind. I can’t wait to see Colette.

The turn signal clicks rhythmically as I maneuver onto the road that will take me to Colette’s country home. My heart thrums with a heady mix of excitement and trepidation, the weight of this moment pressing down on me like a physical force.

I'm so close, closer than I've been in what feels like a lifetime. Yet, a part of me can't help but wonder if I'm ready to face the enormity of what lies ahead. Am I worthy of the trust Colette has placed in me? Can I be the man, the father, that our child deserves?

The doubts swirl like storm clouds. I push them aside, focusing instead on the memories that have sustained me through my journey — the image of Colette's radiant smile, the sound of her laughter, moments tangled up with her under the sheets.

The short driveway stretches out before me, flanked by rows of trimmed hedges and bursts of vibrant foliage. My house, standing beside it, pales in comparison. While neat and well kept, it still has all the markings of an abandoned, haunted house.

As I approach the main gates, a flurry of movement catches my eye. A small group of people clusters near the entrance, their expressions a mix of concern and urgency.

My heart leaps into my throat as I search the sea of faces for someone I know. There are more staff on the property than the last time I was here, and they all have the same anxious expressions, an air of contained panic.

Something's wrong.

The realization steals the breath from my lungs. I throw the car into park, remembering to engage the brake before I'm flinging open the door and hurrying towards the front of the house.

“Excuse me!” I yell at the man nearest to me, my voice strained with fear. “What’s going on?”

The balding man whips around, his eyes wide with surprise and recognition. Ducking his head, he says, “Master Amato. Thank God, you’re here.”

A thousand scenarios race through my mind, each more terrifying than the last. I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat, held back by the icy tendrils of dread that have coiled around my heart.

“What’s happening?” I finally croak out.

"It's Ms. Colette," he says, his voice laced with urgency. "She's gone into labor."

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