Chapter 6 - The Garden in the Sea
Six months later.
The October storms had given way to the soft, golden warmth of a Providence spring. The Carver mansion was no longer a place of cold marble and whispered threats; it had become a home.
The union board had officially severed all ties with the Whitlock family, and Claire had fled the state to escape the federal indictments that followed her father's death. The docks were clean, the shipping manifests were public, and the names of Aaron Brooks and Caleb Vance had been cleared of any wrongdoing.
On the wide stone terrace overlooking the ocean, a small wooden cradle sat under the shade of a blooming cherry blossom tree.
Hannah sat in a low wicker chair, her hair now grown into a soft, elegant bob that curled around her jawline. She was reading a book, her hand occasionally reaching out to gently rock the cradle.
"She’s quiet today," a voice said from behind her.
Daniel walked out onto the terrace, wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the strong, scarred forearms that had once ruled the docks with an iron fist. He carried a small tray with two cups of tea and a bowl of fresh strawberries.
"She’s like her father," Hannah smiled, looking up at him. "A quiet observer."
Daniel sat on the stone wall beside her, his eyes dropping to the sleeping baby girl inside the cradle. Little Grace—named after the mother Hannah had lost so long ago—had Daniel’s dark, serious grey eyes and Hannah’s gentle, stubborn smile.
"Caleb called," Daniel said, taking Hannah’s hand in his. His grip was warm, the scars on his knuckles soft against her skin. "The new shipping office in Boston is officially open. He wants us to come for the opening next month."
"We will," Hannah said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "But only if you promise to leave the charcoal jacket at home. It’s too warm for wool."
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Daniel laughed, a low, rare sound that made the baby stir in her sleep. He reached down, his fingers gently tracing the soft, small hand of their daughter before returning to wrap tightly around Hannah's.
"I don't need the jacket anymore," Daniel whispered, kissing her forehead, right where the silver scissors had once cut her hair. "I have everything I need right here."
