Chapter 79

• The scent of woodsmoke and roasting marshmallows hung heavy in the crisp autumn air. Cleo and Rowan stood amidst a throng of people, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames of a bonfire crackling merrily in the center of Seabrook’s town square. This wasn't just any bonfire; it was the annual Harvest Festival, a celebration of community and gratitude, and Cleo and Rowan were deeply involved. Their small cottage, once a refuge from the storm of their pasts, had become a springboard for their involvement in the town's vibrant life.
• Cleo, her hands stained with the vibrant hues of autumn leaves, had spent the afternoon decorating the square with intricate wreaths woven from local flora. Her artistic flair, once confined to the canvases in her studio, now extended to the very fabric of their community. Each wreath, a miniature masterpiece, spoke of the season's bounty, a testament to the abundance that nature provided and the harmony that existed within the town. The vibrant colors and intricate designs drew gasps of admiration from the townsfolk, their appreciation a balm to her soul. This act of simple decoration was her way of sharing her joy, her gratitude for the sanctuary Seabrook had provided.
• Rowan, meanwhile, had been busy with the children, his strong hands guiding their smaller ones as they carved miniature pumpkins. His woodworking skills, once focused on crafting toys for their private joy, were now employed to entertain and inspire the younger generation. The laughter of the children echoed through the square, a sweet melody that warmed his heart. His patient guidance, his gentle encouragement, spoke of a love that extended beyond Cleo, encompassing the whole community. He watched as their tiny hands, guided by his, transformed ordinary pumpkins into whimsical creations. He saw in their innocent faces the reflection of his own happiness, a happiness that stemmed from the simple act of giving back.