Chapter 4: Morning Tea and Telltale Echoes

Steve

I woke to the sound of birdsong, soft and close, as if the trees themselves were whispering us into the day. The cabin was still cool with early light, the wooden floors chilled under my bare feet as I moved quietly to the kitchen. Amy was still curled under the blanket, her breathing slow and even. I paused in the doorway just to watch her for a second, peaceful, unguarded. Healing.

The smell of coffee soon filled the cabin, mingling with the faint scent of pine from the open windows. I stepped out onto the porch with my mug, letting the steam rise against the cool mountain air. The lake shimmered just visible through the trees, still and glassy, untouched by the day’s wind.

A few minutes later, I heard the soft padding of footsteps. Sheri appeared in her oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, her hair a wild mess of curls.

“Morning, Dad,” she mumbled, taking the mug I’d already poured for her. Just cocoa, with extra sugar, her morning drink of choice. She sat beside me on the porch swing, legs tucked up under her like a cat.

“Slept okay?” I asked.

She nodded. “Eventually, had a hard time falling asleep, but eventually I did, and then I slept really hard.”

“Me too,” I said. And we just sat there, swinging gently, watching the sunlight spill through the branches.

“But, Dad ... Did you “Sleep” well,” she asked and made bunny ears at the word sleep

“Uh ... yeah? Why?”