Chapter 12 - The First Spring Thaw
As May arrived, the Colorado Rockies underwent a dramatic transformation. The heavy snowpack melted into rushing, crystal-clear streams that tumbled down the granite slopes, feeding the valley wildflowers. The biting wind gave way to a gentle, pine-scented breeze that drifted through the open french doors of the manor.
Nathan decided it was time to reclaim the physical spaces of the house that had been neglected or tainted by the past. The grand nursery on the third floor—once a cold, sterile room of imported French toys that the twins had never been allowed to touch—was completely gutted.
Together with the girls, Nathan painted the walls a warm, comforting shade of soft cream. They filled the corners with plush reading chairs, towering bookshelves stacked with fairy tales, and low tables built for crafting rather than display.
On a bright Saturday afternoon, the three of them stood in the center of the newly finished room, surrounded by drop cloths and paint cans.
"Do you like it?" Nathan asked, wiping a smudge of blue paint from his forehead with the back of his wrist.
Emma ran her hand along the smooth back of a new rocking chair, her gray eyes shining with quiet wonder. "It doesn't feel cold anymore," she whispered.
May you like
"It's never cold here again," Nathan promised, dropping to one knee and pulling both girls into a gentle hug. "Whatever you want, whatever you need, this house belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me."
That evening, for the first time in their lives, the twins asked to sleep with their bedroom door cracked open, the warm hallway light spilling across the wooden floorboards like a golden pathway. Nathan sat in the hallway chair outside their door for an hour, listening to their slow, even breathing, realizing that the ghosts of the past had finally been laid to rest.
