Page 86 of Among the Sins of my Father

Free of monsters.

Free.

In the months that followed, builders constructed a cottage in a clearing on the hill behind the Sanctuary. The bitterness I felt after I was first rescued faded away. I slayed my beast. Now I get to live my life in peace.

Apart from the constant noise coming from the renovations happening at the Sanctuary. Berkley put all the money she received from her father’s will into the restoration. It’s just about complete. In a few days, there will be a grand opening. It’s to be a Sanctuary for women in need, funded by the money from the monster. Jericho’s mother, Alice, and I will run it. She’s doing better now. She’s clean. We’ll offer classes in order for them to gain employment. We’ll offer protection for them from those they fear. We’ll provide them with a home, a family, a life. Control over their destiny.

And it’s as though the building has come to life, flourishing under the purpose of what it’s always been meant for. The ghosts of the past no longer haunt it. It has a new purpose. A new life. Just like me.

When I wake early, like I did this morning, I don’t try to go back to sleep. I get up, creeping across the floorboards so as not to wake Ette, make a cup of tea and take it out onto the deck.

And then I watch the world begin to wake. I watch as the mist that hangs around the crumbling walls of the Sanctuary garden lifts and fades as fingers of the sun stretch between the trees. I listen to the birds sing. I touch the scattered leaves that have fallen to the deck, crumpling them between my fingers. And then, closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and then open them slowly, knowing I will smile when everything is as it was before. Perfect.

Nothing changes.

This is not a dream.

This is my life.

Ette is not an early riser. She sleeps until I wake her and then she runs about the cottage in a fluster, complaining about not having enough time to get dressed properly. She takes great pride in her uniform.

“Mum!” Ette calls when I’m back inside and preparing breakfast. “Mum! I can’t find my socks!”

I take a sip of my third cup of tea before calling back. “They’re in your drawers like always.”

“I can’t find them! I’m going to be late for school!”

I smile as I pour the pancake batter into the pan. Of course, she can’t find them. She never can. Moving the pan off the heat, I walk into her room, open her drawer and pull out a pair of socks.

“Here.” I force a small frown when I hand them to her.

She ignores it. “Where did you find them? I’ve been looking for ages.”

“In the same drawer as they always are.”

Ette dumps herself on the edge of the bed and proceeds to pull on her socks. She’s dressed in a navy kilt, white shirt and red jersey. Her socks go up to her knees and the leather of her shoes is red. She fell in love with school on the very first day, although I had a little more difficulty.

It was hard saying goodbye, even though I knew it was only for a few hours. As soon as she disappeared behind the school gate, a wave of panic washed over me.

What if something happened to her?

What if something happened to me?

What if I never saw her again?

Even though I hadn’t said a word of how I was feeling, Berkley turned up on my doorstep only minutes after I arrived back home, and dragged me over to the Sanctuary to make renovation decisions despite the fact they’d already been made. She never mentioned Ette. But she kept me busy and distracted until it was time for Ette to come home again. It was an act of kindness neither of us ever acknowledged.

“There,” Ette says, getting to her feet, shoes on and laces tied. “I’m ready for breakfast now.”

Having forgotten about the pancakes, I rush into the kitchen and put the pan back on the heat. Ette pulls out a chair and sits at the table expectantly.

After years of not being able to choose what I ate, when I ate it, or even how much I had, cooking for my daughter and myself has brought tremendous joy. It’s the little things that matter.

Brushing Ette’s hair and twisting it into the plaits she likes to wear to school. Making myself as many cups of tea as I choose. Leaving the house. Driving the car. Going for a walk. Cooking. Choosing what to wear. Even washing my own clothes.

We are both seated at the table, tucking into our pancakes, when a car appears along the driveway and pulls to a stop. Barrett opens the door, gets out, and leans against the bonnet. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t call out to announce his arrival. Just waits.

After quickly collecting Ette’s bag, I follow her outside.

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