Whispers of the Turning Seasons (part 20)

The forest held its breath.

The snow-covered clearing—once silent except for the wind—now vibrated with a tension so thick Evelyn could barely swallow. A woman emerged from the south trail, stumbling forward through the drifts as deputies tried to steady her.

Her hair—wild, brown, streaked with gray—was unmistakable.

Her mother.

Or at least, the woman who had raised her.

“Evelyn!” she cried, voice breaking as she tried to push past the officers. “Baby, thank God—thank God you’re safe!”

Evelyn’s breath stopped.

Behind her, Rowan whispered, “Stay close to me.”

But Evelyn didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
Her feet were frozen in the snow as if rooted to the earth that held all her buried memories.

Her mother rushed forward until Rowan stepped between them.

“Ma’am,” he said, voice firm but controlled, “you need to stop.”

Her mother’s eyes darted desperately between Rowan and Evelyn.

“Why are you blocking me? She’s my daughter!”

The woman from the cabin let out a cold, humorless laugh.

“Your daughter?” she said softly.
“Oh, now you remember she exists?”

Her mother snapped her gaze toward her—the hatred blazing between the two women so fierce that even the trees seemed to recoil.

“You have no right,” her mother hissed. “No right to be near her.”

The woman from the cabin crossed her arms calmly.

“You stole her. I’m simply taking back what was mine.”

Evelyn felt the world tilt.

The wind howled through the pines, swirling snowflakes into a frantic dance around the standoff.


---

The First Clash

Her mother’s voice trembled with fury.

“You broke into my life fourteen years ago. You tried to take her. You brainwashed her. And you nearly killed my son—”

The woman’s eyes sharpened.

“Your son pushed my boy into the fireplace. He was three. He has the scars to prove it.”

“That’s a lie!”

“You’re the liar.”

The two women stepped toward each other as deputies quickly moved to separate them.

Evelyn’s head throbbed with unearthed memories she wasn’t ready to face:

—Her mother screaming
—The smell of smoke
—The boy crying
—The snow glowing orange
—Hands pulling her in opposite directions

Her knees buckled.

Rowan caught her just before she collapsed.

“Easy,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”


---

Evelyn Speaks

When she finally managed to stand, both women fell silent—watching her with two very different kinds of desperation.

“Tell me the truth,” Evelyn whispered.
Her voice cracked.
“All of it.”

Her mother took a shaky breath.
“Sweetheart… everything that woman told you is twisted. You were never adopted. You were never her child. She kidnapped you. She kept you isolated. I searched for you for months.”

Months.

Not years.

The woman lifted her chin.

“You searched until the police stopped looking. Then you moved. Started over. Changed her name. Changed her birthday. You erased everything.”

“That’s not true!” her mother cried.

Rowan frowned deeply, conflicted.

Ellis quietly called two deputies closer. The clearing was seconds away from exploding.


---

The Captain’s Intervention

Ellis finally stepped forward, voice sharp and cutting through the chaos.

“Enough.”

Both women froze.

“We have two conflicting testimonies,” Ellis said. “Both emotionally charged. Both incomplete. Until we verify the legal documents, the fire report, and the adoption records—Evelyn stays under our protection.”

Her mother’s face twisted.

“You can’t take her from me!”

The woman from the cabin’s expression hardened.

“You took her from me first.”

Evelyn pressed a hand to her forehead.

“I can’t— I don’t know who to believe.”

The boy stepped forward, voice quiet and trembling.

“I remember you,” he whispered to Evelyn. “I remember how you used to sneak into my room when you were scared of the owls. How you made me promise to never let the dark take you.”

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut.

A flash—
moonlight
tiny feet
a warm blanket shared
whispers in the dark
a lullaby hummed too softly to remember

Her mother stepped closer, voice breaking.

“That never happened. She’s manipulating you with made-up stories. You were terrified of forests—she knows that. She’s playing with your trauma.”

The woman from the cabin shook her head.

“She wasn’t terrified. She loved the forest. You taught her to fear it.”

Something inside Evelyn cracked.

Because she remembered—
faintly—
loving the cold pine needles
the smell of woodsmoke
the laughter echoing in the mountains

None of which existed in her life with the woman who raised her.


---

Rowan’s Quiet Revelation

Rowan stepped between the mothers, lowering his voice so only Evelyn heard.

“Listen,” he whispered.
“I don’t want to influence you. But something’s off.”

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to him.

Rowan continued:

“When we checked your childhood records last week… half were missing. And the ones we found had inconsistencies.”

She stared at him, breath trembling.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want to scare you.”
His expression tightened.
“Now I wish I had.”

Her heart hammered.

Records missing.
Dates altered.
Doctors’ signatures that didn’t match.

Her entire childhood felt like a cracked mirror.


---

The Breaking Point

Her mother suddenly fell to her knees in the snow.

“Evelyn,” she cried, reaching out with shaking hands,
“I raised you. I stayed up every night when you were sick. I held you through every nightmare. I taught you to read, to cook, to tie your shoes. You were my whole world.”

Tears spilled from Evelyn’s eyes.

The woman from the cabin stepped forward, voice rough with emotion:

“And I taught you your first word. I rocked you to sleep every night for four years. I held you the night she set our house on fire. I saved you.”
Her voice broke.
“I would have died for you.”

The boy whispered:

“She was a good mom.”

Evelyn felt her heart shatter.

Two women.
Two truths.
Two different lives.

And she was standing in the middle of the firestorm.

“I don’t know who I am,” she whispered.

The woman from the cabin whispered:

“You’re my daughter.”

Her mother whispered:

“You’re my daughter.”

Evelyn’s vision blurred again, tears freezing on her cheeks.

Rowan tightened his grip on her arm—

And in that moment…

The forest exploded with a sound so loud the deputies dove for cover.

A rifle shot.

Then a scream.

Then silence.