Japheth
The farm felt like a sanctuary again. The new sliding glass door was heavy, double-paned steel—the kind of security you usually see in the city, not in a Vermont farmhouse—but I didn't care. The broken glass was gone, the police tape was a memory, and for the first time ever, the house really felt like a home.
It had been two weeks since Evelyn Marie had decided to make her grand entrance. Life had narrowed down to the sweet, milky scent of the baby, the rhythmic hum of the washing machine, and the quiet strength of Regina.
How had she ever thought she wouldn’t be a good mother? She was a natural! I could spend hours watching them together, the way she gazed dreamily into Evalyn’s eyes while she breastfed, the way she seemed completely in tune with every sound, every movement, e
