Where Her Voice Is Taken

Chapter 9: Healing Wounds

The house buzzed with the kind of warmth Leigh thought she might never feel again. Nîpisîy toddled across the living room carpet, her tiny hands gripping the edge of the coffee table for balance. Skylar sat nearby with her sketchpad, watching her baby sister with a quiet smile as she worked on another drawing. The scent of sage drifted through the house, carrying the promise of cleansing and renewal.

Leigh stood in the kitchen, her hands submerged in warm dishwater as she scrubbed away the remnants of dinner. She watched her daughters from a distance, her heart swelling with gratitude. Nîpisîy’s laugh echoed through the house, a sweet, melodic sound that wrapped around Leigh like a comforting blanket. After months of heartache and uncertainty, this moment felt surreal—like she had woken up from a nightmare into a dream she never wanted to end.

But the scars of the past hadn’t disappeared. Leigh still felt the weight of CPS’s presence lingering in the corners of her mind. Their promise of “periodic checks” hung over her like a shadow, threatening to cast doubt on the progress they had made. She wondered if she would ever truly feel safe, if the fear of losing Nîpisîy again would ever leave her.

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In the living room, Sîl sat cross-legged on the floor, working on a new carving. His hands moved with steady precision, shaping the wood into the delicate form of a hummingbird. The rhythmic scrape of the carving knife was soothing, a quiet reminder of his roots and the traditions that anchored him.

Skylar glanced up from her sketchpad, her hazel eyes flicking between her sister and her stepfather. “What’s the hummingbird for?” she asked softly.

Sîl paused, looking up at her with a faint smile. “It’s for Nîpisîy,” he said. “Hummingbirds symbolize resilience and joy. They remind us to keep moving forward, even when things get tough.”

Skylar nodded thoughtfully, her gaze returning to her sketchpad. She had started to understand the importance of resilience—not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional and spiritual sense. Her art had become her own form of healing, a way to process the chaos and find clarity.

Elowen entered the room, carrying a tray of tea. Her silver braid shimmered in the warm light, and her presence radiated calm and strength. She set the tray down on the coffee table, handing cups to each of them. “Tea,” she said simply, her voice gentle but firm. “To cleanse the spirit and bring us together.”

Leigh joined them, sitting beside Sîl and taking her own cup of tea. For a moment, the room was silent, the family united in their quiet reflection. Leigh felt the warmth of the tea seep into her hands, grounding her in the present. “We’re going to be okay,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “We’ve been through so much, but we’re going to be okay.”

Elowen placed a hand on Leigh’s shoulder, her grip steady. “Healing takes time,” she said. “But you’ve already taken the first step.”

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Later that night, as the house grew quiet, Leigh tucked Nîpisîy into her crib. The baby’s lashes fluttered as she drifted off to sleep, her tiny fingers clutching the edge of her blanket. Leigh stood there for a moment, watching her daughter with tears pooling in her eyes. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Nîpisîy’s forehead. “You’re home now,” she whispered. “Mama won’t let anyone take you away again.”

She closed the door softly behind her and crossed the hallway to Skylar’s room. Her eldest daughter was sitting at her desk, her sketchpad open and her pencil moving with careful precision. Leigh stepped into the room, leaning against the doorway. “What are you working on?” she asked.

Skylar glanced up, her expression shy but proud. She held up her sketch—a portrait of their family, standing together under a wide, open sky. Nîpisîy was cradled in Leigh’s arms, while Sîl and Skylar stood close beside them. Elowen’s presence was there too, her silver braid gleaming like a thread of light.

“It’s us,” Skylar said simply. “The way we’re meant to be.”

Leigh felt her throat tighten as she studied the drawing. She wrapped her arms around Skylar, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You have such a beautiful gift,” she said softly. “Thank you for sharing it with us.”

Skylar smiled, her chest swelling with pride. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she was helping to heal the fractures in their family, one stroke of her pencil at a time.

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The days that followed were filled with small victories and quiet moments of joy. The family began to rebuild what had been broken, finding strength in their love and connection. Leigh and Sîl worked to repair the cracks in their relationship, leaning on each other for support instead of letting their pain drive them apart. Skylar continued to create, her drawings serving as a bridge between the past and the future.

Elowen remained a steady presence, her wisdom and guidance shaping their path forward. She spoke often of resilience, of the importance of honoring their roots while forging new ground. “The ancestors are with you,” she reminded them. “Their love is woven into your spirit.”

Leigh found herself clinging to those words, holding onto the belief that they were never truly alone. With each passing day, the weight on her chest grew lighter, replaced by the warmth of hope.