Chapter 8 – The Ashes of the Past

The days blurred together as George's fever broke. His skin flushed with color, and his body's fight for survival was nothing short of a miracle. Lucia and John kept a steady watch by his side, never leaving him for a moment, while the room filled with soft whispers of encouragement.

But as George began to heal, Mary's body, still lifeless, was prepared for cremation. The funeral arrangements followed the Western traditions that Mary had always known—an elegant ceremony to honor a life lived with grace, despite the tragedy surrounding it. James reluctantly participated, though his eyes avoided the casket that contained the woman he had so carelessly discarded.

Susanna Bredford, who had been by his side in the aftermath, was stopped at the door of the funeral hall. Her name was never spoken aloud in the ceremony, and as the staff denied her entry, she stood in the shadows, bitter and scornful. The woman who had never truly cared for Mary now found herself on the outside of the family's grief.

Inside, George, still frail but determined, held tightly to his grandparents. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on his small shoulders, but he could feel his mother's presence, even if she could no longer be seen. Lucia squeezed his hand, whispering quietly, "She is here, in every moment."

The ceremony was brief but heartfelt. It was clear that Mary's legacy was not one of bitterness, but of quiet strength. George's grief was palpable, but so was his will to move forward, and for the first time in days, a small, tender smile appeared on his face as he watched the flames rise from the crematorium. His mother's ashes would be scattered in the place she had loved most—near the edge of Silvercity, where the mountains met the sky.