Chapter 27
Sunshine
Morning came gently to Harbor House.
No alarms.
No bells.
No voices calling people to line up outside.
Instead, the smell of cinnamon rolls drifted through the hallway long before sunrise.
Someone laughed downstairs.
A child answered with another laugh.
I opened my eyes slowly.
For one impossible second, I forgot where I was.
Then I remembered.
Grace.
Emma.
Fifty-four people safe beneath this roof.
I pulled on a sweatshirt and stepped into the hallway.
Several bedroom doors already stood open.
One little boy peeked into the corridor before disappearing again when he noticed me.
Not frightened.
Just curious.
Progress.
Downstairs, Daisy stood at the stove while Lark poured orange juice into tiny plastic cups.
Charlie sat at the table wearing dinosaur pajamas and a paper crown she'd somehow convinced Mace to make before he left for the clubhouse.
Mr. Pickles wore a matching crown.
Naturally.
Charlie spotted me first.
"Sunshine!"
She jumped from her chair and ran across the kitchen.
"You slept here."
"I did."
She slipped her small hand into mine.
"The kids are waking up."
"I know."
"They're quiet."
"They've had a big night."
Charlie nodded solemnly.
"I get quiet too."
"When?"
"When Daddy makes me take naps."
I smiled.
"That isn't quite the same thing."
She frowned thoughtfully.
"It feels the same."
Grace appeared a few minutes later.
She stopped halfway into the kitchen, uncertain.
She'd changed into one of the soft blue pajama sets Daisy had left on her bed.
Her hair hung loose around her shoulders.
For the first time since I'd known her...
She looked like a little girl.
Not someone trying to survive.
Just a child who had slept in a safe bed.
Charlie waved enthusiastically.
"We have cinnamon rolls!"
Grace looked at me.
"Can I have one?"
My heart tightened.
"You don't have to ask me."
She hesitated.
"Really?"
"You can decide whether you want one."
Grace stood perfectly still.
Then a tiny smile appeared.
"I want two."
Charlie's eyes widened.
"Me too."
Daisy laughed.
"I had a feeling."
Breakfast slowly filled the room.
Children who had arrived frightened the night before now whispered cautiously to one another.
One little girl asked if she could have more milk.
A boy proudly announced he'd slept all night without shoes on.
Another child carried three apples because he wasn't convinced someone wouldn't take them away later.
No one corrected him.
Lark simply found a basket and told him they could be his until he was ready.
Healing had many shapes.
After breakfast, Grace asked quietly,
"Can we talk?"
I nodded.
She followed me onto the back porch.
Morning sunlight filtered through the trees while birds called somewhere beyond the garden.
Grace sat beside me on the porch swing.
Neither of us spoke immediately.
Finally she looked down at her hands.
"I thought you died."
"I know."
"They told us."
"What did they say?"
"That you ran away."
She swallowed.
"Then God punished you."
I closed my eyes briefly.
"And if we ever tried..."
She didn't finish.
She didn't need to.
"I never stopped looking."
Grace nodded slowly.
"I believed that."
"You did?"
"Not every day."
She gave a tiny shrug.
"But enough."
A breeze stirred the swing.
Grace tucked one leg beneath herself.
"After you left..."
Her voice became quieter.
"Everything changed."
I listened.
"The Elders were angry."
"They searched everywhere."
"They questioned everyone."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"They thought someone helped you."
"They were right."
Grace looked at me.
"I know that now."
Silence settled between us again.
Then she continued.
"They moved us."
"Moved?"
"Three times."
My heart sank.
"So the picture..."
"That wasn't the first place."
Of course it wasn't.
The Order adapted.
They learned.
"They separated people."
She counted softly on her fingers.
"Families."
"Friends."
"Anyone who talked too much."
My chest tightened.
"Emma stayed with me."
Relief.
"What about Ellie?"
Grace's smile faded.
"They took her."
The words landed like stones.
"When?"
"I don't know."
"How old was she?"
Grace frowned.
"Little."
"Did you ever see her again?"
She shook her head.
"No."
I looked toward the yard.
Children chased bubbles that Lark had somehow produced from nowhere.
Normal.
Beautiful.
Painfully ordinary.
"What about Oliver?"
Grace was quiet for a long time.
"He fought."
I already knew.
"Even when he was little."
"He tried protecting everyone."
Tears gathered in her eyes.
"They took him after..."
She stopped.
I waited.
"...after he hit one of the guards."
I felt my breath catch.
"How old was he?"
"Maybe thirteen."
Thirteen.
Still just a boy.
"They said he was dangerous."
Grace looked at me.
"I never saw him again."
Neither of us spoke.
The silence lasted almost a full minute.
Finally Grace whispered,
"I think he lived."
I turned toward her.
"Why?"
"They would have made us watch."
The sentence chilled me.
"They wanted fear."
She looked toward the trees.
"If they killed him..."
She swallowed.
"...they would have wanted everyone to see."
I understood.
The absence of proof had become its own evidence.
"He was strong," Grace continued.
"He never stopped telling people they'd come."
"Who?"
She looked at me.
"You."
The tears I'd been holding back finally escaped.
"He said you wouldn't forget us."
I covered my mouth.
"I never did."
"I know."
Grace reached over and took my hand.
"You came."
Emma joined us a little later.
She carried three mugs of tea.
One for herself.
One for Grace.
One for me.
She looked older than her years.
Not because of wrinkles.
Because of responsibility.
"I figured you'd be talking."
I smiled softly.
"You figured right."
Emma sat opposite us.
"I heard most of it already."
Grace rolled her eyes.
"You hear everything."
"I had to."
Emma looked at me.
"Someone had to remember."
I frowned slightly.
"Remember what?"
"The names."
She reached into her pocket and unfolded several sheets of paper.
"I wrote them."
The pages were covered in careful handwriting.
Children.
Women.
Transfers.
Births.
Deaths.
Locations.
Everything she'd been able to remember.
My heart pounded.
"You kept records?"
"In my head."
She smiled faintly.
"Then on paper whenever I could."
She handed the pages to me.
"I thought..."
Her voice caught.
"...if someone ever came..."
I stared at the names.
So many names.
"So we wouldn't forget them."
I looked up at her.
"We won't."
Emma nodded.
"Good."
Later that afternoon, the club gathered quietly in church.
Not for celebration.
For information.
Emma's list lay in the center of the table.
Toxic looked around the room.
"This changes things."
Knight nodded.
"We have locations."
"Possible locations," Cipher corrected.
"Enough to investigate."
Ledger carefully organized the pages.
"We build one case at a time."
No one talked about ending the Order.
Not today.
This was intelligence.
Hope.
A direction.
Nothing more.
Remedy stood beside me.
His hand found mine beneath the table.
I squeezed it once.
Oliver still wasn't home.
Ellie still wasn't home.
The Order still stood.
But for the first time...
We weren't chasing ghosts anymore.
We had names.
And names could be followed.