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Sheila stood tall, listening intently as the sheriff continued. His words served as a reminder of the commitment she'd made to this new path in her life—a path forged from the ashes of her sister's tragic end.
"Through hard work and determination, Sheila Stone has proven herself to be an exceptional individual, worthy of joining our ranks. She's demonstrated an unyielding drive to protect and serve this community—qualities that are essential to being a good cop."
As Dawson spoke, Sheila felt the weight of responsibility settles on her shoulders. She knew that every day would bring new challenges but also new opportunities to make a difference in the lives of those around her.
"Let us raise our glasses and toast to Sheila's success, and to the fine work we all do in the service of Coldwater." The sheriff lifted his glass, and the room followed suit, voices echoing in unison: "To Sheila!"
Her heart swelled with pride and determination, but also with a quiet grief that she kept tucked away. As the celebration continued around her, Sheila knew that her journey was only just beginning.
Amidst the celebration, laughter and chatter filled the room. The clink of glass and the smell of alcohol permeated the air, making Sheila's chest tighten with unease. She eyed the beverage table with apprehension.
Not now, she told herself. That's not the way to honor your sister.
Alcohol had been her steadfast companion since Natalie's death, allowing her to numb the pain and feel something far better than the sharp pain of grief: nothing at all. It kept her from the relentless question that circled over her like a vulture, waiting for the right opportunity to land: Was she going to crack like her sister had? Natalie had always been the stronger one, able to get back up no matter how many times she got knocked down.
So, if Natalie could be driven to take her own life…did Sheila really stand a chance?
She approached the table, drawn as if by a magnet. Then, at the last moment, she changed her mind. Ignoring the punch, she forced herself to pick up a glass of sparkling water instead. She wasn't going to wallow in self-pity, not today. It's not what Natalie would've wanted.
Here's to a new beginning, she thought, sipping her drink as she glanced around the room. Her eyes fell on a bouquet of lilies, triggering a vivid flashback that transported her back to her sister's recent funeral.
The scent of lilies mixed with damp earth filled her nostrils, the casket lowered slowly into the ground. Sheila remembered standing there, clutching a lily in her trembling hand, emotions welling up inside her as she thought about the bond she'd shared with Natalie. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and her chest tightened with an overwhelming sense of loss. The void left by Natalie's absence seemed insurmountable, weighing heavily on her heart.
"Are you alright?" A concerned voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. It was Officer Laura Miles, one of the few female officers in the department.
"Sorry, I just... I miss her, you know?" Sheila admitted, her voice cracking.
"We all do," Laura replied softly, resting a hand on Sheila's shoulder. "But I think she would be proud of you today."
"Thanks." Sheila wiped away a tear, forcing a smile. "I just need to focus on making a difference, like she did."
"Hey, we've got your back," Laura assured her. "We're a team now. And together, we'll make sure her legacy lives on."
Sheila nodded, doing her best to smile. Inwardly, however, the words rang hollow. She didn't care about Natalie's legacy—she cared about legacy. She wanted her sister back, impossible as it might be.
The party's laughter and chatter swirled around her, each clink of glassware sharp in her ears. The atmosphere felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the sense of camaraderie her new colleagues reveled in. She took a slow sip from her cup of soda, wishing she could just let go and join the celebration.
"Hey there, kiddo," her father said quietly, sidling up beside her. His smile faded as he studied her face, his gray eyes filled with concern. "How are you holding up?"
Sheila forced another smile, pulling herself together. "I'm managing, Dad. Really."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm proud of you, Sheila. But I can't help but worry that you're working too much. You've been pushing yourself so hard since...since Natalie."
"Don't worry about me," she said. "The work helps. It's better than sitting around feeling sorry for myself." She didn't want to talk about Natalie or her grief—not here, not now. She needed to focus on what was ahead of her.
Her father hesitated before continuing. "Star's been asking about you."
"Who?"
"Star."
The name caught Sheila off guard. In the midst of her relentless training, she had entirely forgotten about the troubled fourteen-year-old girl she'd met weeks ago. Guilt gnawed at her insides. "How is she doing?"
"Things aren't great at home for her," her father admitted, a sadness creeping into his voice. "It would mean a lot to her if you could reach out. Maybe spend some time with her?"
Sheila nodded, her heart heavy with newfound responsibility. "Of course. I'll make sure to do that."
"Good," he replied, patting her shoulder. "I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but sometimes we all need someone to lean on."
