Chapter 9 - The Garden in Spring
Four months passed.
Spring arrived in South Brooklyn with a warmth that washed away the dreary winter fog. The gardens of the estate bloomed with red roses, white hydrangeas, and fresh green grass.
My life had transformed completely.
Without the nightshade in my system, my body recovered rapidly. The dark circles under my eyes vanished, my temper smoothed out, and the shipping operations ran with a quiet, unmatched efficiency that solidified Moretti Enterprises as the premier logistics firm on the East Coast.
I slept five to six hours every single night.
Every evening at seven o'clock, regardless of what meetings were scheduled or what ships were docking at Pier 42, I was at the house.
On a warm Tuesday afternoon, I sat on a bench in the east garden, wearing a linen shirt and jeans, holding a small wooden airplane.
Lily was running across the grass in a pink dress, her dark curls bouncing in the sunlight, holding her gray stuffed rabbit by its single ear.
“ higher, Mr. Moretti!” she shouted, pointing to the sky. “The plane has to go over the trees!”
“The plane is landing right here,” I laughed, swooping the wooden toy down onto the grass beside her.
She collapsed onto the lawn, giggling softly, her small shoes covered in clover.
Sophia walked out from the terrace carrying a tray with fresh lemonade and glasses. She looked relaxed, healthy, her eyes bright as she watched her daughter playing on the lawn.
She set the tray on the stone table beside my bench and handed me a glass.
“No tea today?” I teased softly.
Sophia laughed—a clear, light sound that fit the afternoon sun. “Only cold lemonade, Mr. Moretti. Guaranteed toxin-free.”
“Call me Dominic, Sophia,” I said, looking up at her. “We’ve passed the 'Mr. Moretti' stage.”
She blushed slightly, nodding her head. “Dominic.”
Lily scrambled up from the grass, grabbed her stuffed rabbit, and climbed onto the wooden bench right between us. She grabbed my glass of lemonade with both hands, took a huge gulp, and wiped her mouth with the back of her small sleeve.
“I’m going to school in September,” she announced proudly to the trees.
“I know,” I said, touching her curly hair. “I already picked out the school. It has a big library full of lion books.”
Lily looked up at me, her brown eyes bright and serious. “Will you come to read them with me?”
May you like
I looked across the table at Sophia, who was smiling warmly at us both, then looked down at the little girl who had walked into my dark bedroom on a rainy night in yellow lion pajamas.
“Every single one, Lily,” I promised. “Every single one.”
