Moving On

Something as simple as a butterfly pin and expose so much.

“You’re family,” Elara whispered. “An aunt?”

Diane smiled faintly. “Not in the way you understand. But close enough.”

“Why now? Why come to me?” Elara asked.

“Keep them safe, Elara. The wounds in their hearts are deep, but not beyond healing.” Diane said, stepping closer.

Elara swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Time waits for no one,” Diane said softly.

Then, as if caught by a breeze no one could feel, she began to fade gently, gracefully...until there was only stillness in her place.

Elara stood alone in the hush of the room, Rockford pressing close beside her. On the floor, glinting in the pale moonlight, lay something small. She stooped and picked it up a bronze pin, shaped like a butterfly.

The wind moaned through the lighthouse walls as Elara climbed the spiral staircase. Rockford padded silently at her heels, ears perked but calm.

Upstairs, the fire crackled low in the hearth. The others were still gathered around its warmth. Darius leaned back in the old sailor’s chair, a half-smile tugging at his lips as Lyle animatedly recalled a misadventure involving a stolen honey cart and an exceptionally irate beekeeper.

Maren clutched her sides, wheezing with laughter. “Don’t make me laugh,” she gasped, eyes brimming with tears.

The moment was light, warm and fleeting. Darius looked up as Elara stepped into the room. His smile faded, replaced by something softer, more attentive.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

She nodded faintly. “Yeah...just...I heard something downstairs.”

Elara crossed the room to Darius and knelt beside him. Without a word, she placed the pin in his hand.

He looked down, and froze.

His fingers closed around it slowly, reverently. “I know this...”

Elara tilted her head. “You do?”

Darius nodded. “It was my mother’s.”