Arthur asked, handing her a glass.
“That was intense,” she admitted, taking the water. “Three days ago, I was mopping floors and worrying about how to pay my rent. Now I own half of this city.”
“Money doesn’t change you,” Arthur said. “It only amplifies who you already are. And you are brave, Grace, braver than me. I hid in my work and my grief; you faced the world alone.”
There was a knock on the door. It was Silas. He looked awkward in his new clothes, twisting a hat in his hands.
“Mr. Blackwood, Miss Grace, I came to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” Grace put down her glass and went to him. “Where are you going?”
“The city’s not for me,” the old man said. “Mr. Arthur has offered me a house in the country, with a garden and a dog. It’s more than I deserve.”
“You deserve the world, Silas,” Grace said, hugging him. “You saved my life twice. Once when I was born, and again last night.”
“I was just keeping my promise,” Silas said, his eyes moist. “Your mother would be proud of you. You have her fire.”
Arthur walked over and shook Silas’s hand.
“The car is downstairs. It will take you wherever you want to go. And, Silas… thank you.”
When the old man had gone, Grace turned to her father.
“What do we do now, Dad?”
Arthur smiled. And for the first time in twenty-three years, the smile reached his eyes.
“Now, we live. We make up for lost time. But first, there’s a place we need to go, to introduce Eleanor to her daughter,” Arthur said.
The private Blackwood family cemetery was peaceful. Ancient oak trees shaded the white marble headstones. It was a sunny day, a world away from the storm that had marked their lives so long ago. Arthur and Grace walked hand in hand to the central grave. The headstone read simply: “Eleanor Blackwood. Beloved Wife.”
Grace knelt on the grass, her hand touching the cool marble.
“Hi, Mom,” she whispered. “It’s me. It’s Grace.”
Arthur stayed back, giving them a moment of privacy. But Grace gestured for him to come closer.
“I’m so sorry, Eleanor,” Arthur said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I didn’t know our daughter was alive.”
“She knew,” Grace said, touching her locket. “She knew you would find me. That’s why she gave me this, to light the way home.”
Grace took off the locket and placed it gently on the headstone.
“I’m giving it back to you, Mom. Your mission is complete.”
“No,” Arthur said, picking up the necklace and fastening it around his daughter’s neck again. “She would want you to have it. It’s a symbol that love outlasts death. It’s a symbol that the Blackwoods never give up.”
Grace nodded. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she was smiling. She stood up and looked at her father.
“I have an idea,” she said. “I want to start a foundation with my inheritance, for children like me—lost children who need to be found. And I want it named after a woman of strength and compassion.”
“I think that’s perfect,” he said. “What will we call it?”
Grace looked at her mother’s grave, and then at the locket on her chest.
“The Eleanor Foundation,” she said. “So no one else has to wait twenty-three years to find their way home.”
Father and daughter embraced under the golden light of the setting sun. The ghosts of the past were finally at peace. The future, bright and full of hope, stretched out before them. And at Grace’s neck, the locket seemed to shine one last time, like an eternal message from the woman who had, in the end, won.
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