Chapter 21 Silva
Silva
The plant shop had a sharp, green aroma, one that tickled the back of the throat. Loamy potting soil and crisp chlorophyll, cuttings and clippings covering nearly every single surface available at Viol, Violet her little girl needed routine and structure, and she was too busy focusing on the life she was building to allow herself to be forever stuck in the past.
Autumn came and went, five years without him.
The winter had been spent snuggled together, doing crafts and watching movies.
Aelin delighted in watching the orcs come and go from downstairs at the windows.
When Silva realized just how much money had been sitting in the account with her name on it, she’d made an impromptu decision, booking a short trip to Ireland to meet his mother.
Caoimhe lived in a gated edifice of a care facility that put Cevanore to shame, an enclave on its own. She had her own collection of rooms, beautifully appointed, clearly well cared for, her son's disappearance having no ill effect on her life here, tucked away at the top of the world.
Of course he takes good care of her. Why would you think he wouldn’t? He’s been taking care of you since day one.
She was erratic and excitable, but she’d loved Aelin and Silva both, and while the visit had been tearful, Silva was certain it had been the right thing to do.
Aelin had shown Tate’s mother the tiny velvet-flocked animals Silva had given her, passed down through the generations and carried in a miniature train case in her backpack.
Caoimhe’s eyes had gone wide, glowing with tears, fetching a nearly matching set from a jewelry box, old and worn, telling Aelin that her little boy had loved playing with similar toys, and that she should have them to add to hers.
Silva had stepped out of the room to sob silently in the hallway, realizing afterward that it was the first time she’d done so in months. Time kept marching on.
When they flew home, Silva decided they needed one last treat before they settled into their new lives.
Aelin was about to start school, she was going back to work, and they were moving.
A weekend at Blinxieland, just the two of them, riding every ride and eating candied apples for dinner, staying up well past Aelin’s bedtime to watch fireworks.
She took enough pictures to fill several photo albums, sending the digital cache to her mother, grandmother, and his mother alike.
Five years without him, but there was still joy in the world to be found.
“What color do you think we should paint your bedroom?” she’d whispered into her daughter’s hair, once they’d come back to real life, the apartment above the Pixie already in boxes.
“Pink. And green, like ice cream.” Aelin was tucking into her side, burrowed in like a tiny animal, one of her stuffed rabbits beside her.
“I think we can do that. Let’s pick out paint tomorrow.”
At the news that she’d not be returning to the enclave, Silva’s mother was beside herself.
“Darling, why don’t you want to come home? Of course you’re welcome! Silva, you know that. You know how much we want to have you and Aelin both back with us—”