Chapter 10 - The Harvest
One year after the crash, the air in Peoria was sweet with late-spring lilacs and fresh-cut grass.
I stood on the back porch of our bungalow, watching Luke teach Arlo how to balance on his tiny feet in the clover. Arlo’s infectious, bubbling belly laugh filled the warm afternoon air, his little hands waving wildly in the breeze. We had built a life here—peaceful, quiet, and completely free of toxicity.
My phone chimed on the patio table. It was an email notification from Marcus Vance.
I unlocked the screen and opened the attached PDF.
SENTENCING ORDER: THE PEOPLE V. MACKENZIE DUNLEAVY
Sentence: Seven years, Illinois Department of Corrections.
Facility: Logan Correctional Center.
Beneath it was a second update regarding Beverly.
Following the state police investigation into forged wills, estate fraud, and filing false police reports, Beverly had accepted a plea agreement to avoid a multi-count felony trial. She had received three years of probation, five hundred hours of mandatory community service, full revocation of her notary and real estate licenses, and a court order to forfeit all remaining assets from my father's estate. The bank had foreclosed on her suburban house to settle the unpaid second mortgage she had foolishly taken out for Kenzie's legal fees.
Beverly was now living in a tiny, one-bedroom subsidized apartment across the river in East Peoria, working part-time as a receptionist at an auto salvage yard.
She had tried calling me three months ago from an unknown number.
I had listened to her voice mail in the quiet of my laundry room.
""Marisa... please. It’s your mother. My arthritis is getting worse, and Kenzie isn't allowed visitors for another six months because of an infraction in the prison yard. I have no one to drive me to the pharmacy. Arlo is my grandson, Marisa. Blood is blood. You can't just throw your mother away like garbage.""
I hadn't cried. I hadn't raged. I had simply tapped the screen and hit Delete.
Blood had meant nothing to Beverly Dunleavy when she stood on her front porch at four in the morning, ready to throw me into a steel cage while my breasts leaked milk for my newborn son. Blood had meant nothing to her when she whispered that judges go easy on new mothers, willing to let my child grow up without me just so her golden girl wouldn't have a blemish on her resume.
Family wasn't defined by the DNA running through your veins. Family was defined by who protected you when the world was dark.
Luke picked Arlo up, swinging him high into the blue sky. Arlo squealed with delight, his face glowing in the golden afternoon sun. Luke looked over at me, his eyes crinkling with that deep, steady love that had kept me anchored through the worst storm of my life.
May you like
""Come here, mama,"" Luke called out with a warm grin. ""He’s trying to take his first steps.""
I slid my phone into my pocket, leaving the ghosts of the past behind where they belonged. I stepped off the porch and walked out into the grass, into the light, and into the arms of the only family I would ever need."
