Chapter 10 - Bloodlines of the Long Island Coast
Two weeks later, on a crisp, sunlit Saturday afternoon, Gabriel and I brought Chloe and my mother to the historic cemetery in Brooklyn overlooking the bay.
The cemetery was quiet, peaceful, and bathed in golden winter light that filtered through the ancient oak trees.
We walked down a secluded gravel path until we reached a beautiful, shaded plot near the water’s edge.
Standing beneath a towering granite cross was the headstone of my father, David Lin:
David Lin (1959–2023) — Master Electrician, An Honest Man.
Fresh bouquets of white calla lilies, red roses, and fragrant sweet basil rested at the base of the stone.
My mother knelt beside my father’s headstone, resting her hand on the carved granite, her eyes bright with tears of profound, eternal peace.
“We kept the family together, David,” my mother whispered through her tears. “Our girls are safe. The debt is gone forever.”
Gabriel stepped forward, kneeling beside my mother on the gravel path, his hand resting respectfully on the stone.
“Your husband was an honorable craftsman, Mrs. Lin,” Gabriel said softly, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet cemetery. “He gave forty years of his life to keep the city's power running. His daughters carry his courage in their blood. In this house, that kind of honor will never be forgotten.”
He looked up at me, standing beside Chloe, his dark obsidian eyes shining with an emotion so vast, so profound, that words were entirely unnecessary.
He stood up, reached into his coat pocket, and produced the antique velvet jeweler’s box lined with white silk.
May you like
My heart began to hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird.
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