CHAPTER SEVEN: LIFE IN CALDERHALLOW
RINA
Garlic and babies.
That's what my mornings smelled like lately.
Sweet Nova had begun chewing on a dried garlic braid Miss Dalia gave me "to keep spirits away"though I suspected it was more to keep Ember from tearing up her shop shelves. It didn't work. Both girls had declared war on anything within reach. Nova, the sneaky one, liked to crawl toward forbidden corners. Ember preferred chaos out loud, with squeals, claps, and the occasional overturned basket.
I should've been tired, maybe even frustrated. But instead, I felt peaceful.
Like my lungs were finally learning how to fill again.
We had a rhythm now. Me and the girls. Me and Liora. Me and Calderhallow.
Most mornings began with cinnamon toast and soft sunlight. The windows fogged lightly with the sea breeze, the kettle hissed its usual welcome, and the scent of homemade soap and herbs filled every corner of our rented flat above Miss Dalia's candle shop.
The girls woke up earlier than I did. Always. Nova with her silent stares and gentle kicks to my side. Ember with a theatrical cry that turned into giggles the second I reached for her.
Today was no different.
By nine o'clock, we were dressed and fed. Ember in a mint-green romper, Nova in peach. They looked like little scoops of sorbet.
I tied a scarf over my head, grabbed the baby sling, and slipped on my shoes while they watched me from their blanket nest in the living room.
"You two are trouble," I told them, planting kisses on their soft cheeks. "The best kind."
Miss Dalia had asked me to help dust the front display shelves today, something she usually did herself. I suspected it was less about needing help and more about giving me a reason to get out of the house.
I was grateful for it.
The walk from our flat to the shop was short just down the narrow stairs and through the flower-framed doorway that always smelled like eucalyptus and lemon balm. Calderhallow had dozens of these little paths, little moments. You just had to notice them.
The shop bell jingled when I entered, the familiar sound making me smile.
"Morning," I called out, balancing the twins on my hips in turn.
Miss Dalia emerged from behind a curtain, her silver hair tied up in its usual bun, her fingers stained lavender from mixing oils.
"You're glowing," she said with a warm grin.
"It's the garlic," I replied with a grin. "Very on trend this season."
She laughed and reached out to take Ember. "Let me hold her while you sweep. My arms are missing the baby weight."
I handed her over gratefully and slipped Nova into the baby sling, where she settled instantly against my chest.
The sweeping was slow work, mostly because I kept stopping to admire the rows of carefully arranged jars, the handwritten labels, the peace of the place. I loved how Miss Dalia's shop felt like a sanctuary, like time didn't rush here.
People came and went regulars, tourists, curious wanderers. I smiled politely but didn't speak unless spoken to. I liked staying invisible. It was safer that way.
Liora arrived in the afternoon, arms full of groceries and stories from the market.
"You would not believe what Mrs. Kindler said to me today," she said, setting the bags on the counter. "Apparently, I 'look too young to be a mother.'"
I raised an eyebrow. "She thinks you're their mom?"
"Today I was," Liora smirked, unpacking a bag of plums. "She also asked if I was married. I told her I'm married to tea and regret."
I laughed. "Sounds about right."
We spent the rest of the day in the shop, Liora helping Miss Dalia bottle new candle scents while I restocked the lavender sachets. Nova slept soundly against me while Ember cooed at her reflection in a mirror leaning against the far wall.
No crying. No stress. No fear.
Just life.
Just us.
I had missed this kind of quiet. Not the silence of grief or exile, but the hush of normalcy. The peace of watching two babies grow strong and soft in a world that was finally gentle.
By evening, we walked back home, the girls babbling, the sky streaked with lavender and gold. The sea glistened in the distance, and the scent of someone's dinner floated on the air rosemary and onions, maybe lamb.
I cooked pasta while Liora bathed the girls. Then we switched I took over drying them and singing soft lullabies while she prepared tea.
They fell asleep quickly tonight.
Nova curled her tiny fingers around my shirt. Ember tucked her cheek against my chest. I stayed like that, sitting on the floor between their cribs, just watching.
Breathing.
Being.
Later, when Liora and I sat on the balcony under the stars, she turned to me.
"You seem… better," she said softly.
I looked at her, surprised.
"You do," she continued. "You smile more. You laugh without flinching. I haven't heard you call yourself broken in weeks."
I blinked. My throat tightened.
"I think this place is good for you, Rina."
I didn't know what to say.
So I didn't say anything.
But I reached over, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
The sea hummed below us.
And for once, I didn't feel like I had to run.