Hello darlings, it’s Scarlett with another update. Yeah, I didn’t expect to post again so soon either, but my family is big and colorful. Something is always going on somewhere. Just some things are worth writing about, while others are best forgotten.
I stopped by Connor and Keira’s house last night — my “grandson,” technically, though the term sits oddly when I look more like a cousin. He doesn’t age; I don’t. So at some point most vampires end up looking roundabout the same age. But Connor insists on respectfully calling me grandma, and I let him. He’s earned the right.
He opened the door before I even knocked, broad and sun‑touched as ever — long warm blond hair falling over his shoulders, blue eyes bright, that eternal tan that followed him into vampirism like muscle memory. He pulled me into one of his bear hugs, warm and crushing. If I still needed to breathe, I’d complain.
His wife Keira drifted in behind him, quiet and lovely — Snow‑White coloring, dark hair, pale skin, those dark eyes that soften only for him. Everyone else gets the gallery‑owner gaze; Connor gets the woman. She was born mortal to a vampire and a then‑mortal, but she spent years begging Connor to turn her. Years. He refused every time — not because he didn’t love her, but because he hated his own vampirism so deeply he couldn’t imagine doing that to someone he cared about. It wasn’t until they were in their early twenties, after she finally got approval from my father and he’d made some uneasy peace with what he was, that he agreed.
He’s the Chief Medical Officer at a large, modern medical facility and still steps in wherever needed. A certified genius with a heart of gold, and thanks to his immortal spark, fairly tireless — which comes in handy when saving mortal lives. A fan favorite among peers, staff, and patients, not to mention his nickname being Dr. McDreamy, and I would agree. Grandson or not, I’m not blind to the fact that he hit the gene‑pool lottery and is a particularly fine specimen of the Cameron lineage.
And then there was Christian. Their son. Mortal by birth and no desire to change that. Our laws, my father’s laws to be exact prescribe that all those born as mortals into a union with one or two vampires get the choice on their 18th birthday to get turned or choose the mortal life. Chris chose mortality. He doesn’t judge us fanged ones but has no interest in joining the club. Fair. His parents and I may not like the timer on him for his choice, but we have to accept it, just as he accepts our differences.
My great‑grandson, twenty‑seven now, a full doctor in his own right — not a certified genius like his father, but sharp as a whip anyway, handsome, steady, capable, terrifyingly competent — and currently in full meltdown mode.
“Hey Scarlett — sorry — can’t talk — gotta go,” he blurted, already half past me. Yes, all my great-grandchildren call Blaine and me by our first names. It’s a deal we made with them when they were old enough to understand. It’s just too weird and where I draw the line.
Connor hooked an arm out and snagged him mid‑stride like an escaping patient.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, young man. You looking for your manners? Because I can help you find them.”
“Right. Sorry. Look, it’s Craig. I can’t get a hold of him and it’s been well over 24 hours. Ever since his addiction spiral thing and rehab and all we had this deal that he’d check in every 24 hours at the latest, and he kept it, meticulously. Except today. I called and texted and nothing. I know he recently applied to a ton of jobs and it’s been raining ‘thanks, but no thanks’ emails on him. And his parents are away, visiting his grandparents, so he is home alone for a week. So … I am … concerned.”
I didn’t like the look on Chris’s face when he said Craig had gone silent. That boy never ignored him, not even when he was detoxing or grounded by the court. Connor and Keira both went stiff — old fear resurfacing — so I stepped in.
“Got it. You do nothing. Let me handle this.”
Three heads snapped toward me, but I was already gone.
I ported to Craig’s house first — empty. Patio door wide open like an invitation to burglars. Idiot. I shut it and ported straight to Forgotten Hollow.
Caelan was in the our father’s study polishing his beloved English Longsword he absolutely didn’t need to polish. He didn’t even look up.
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the question.”
“Don’t have to. It’s you. You never ask anything good. So, the default answer is no. Where’s that idiot husband of yours? Or did you finally come to your senses and cut him loose to run wild with the other primates?”
I ignored that. “Cae, look. Chris’s best friend Craig is missing. I know you remember that ordeal and why that is worrisome to him. Possible relapse. Please, Cae. Or do you need me to go ask dad, so he will MAKE you help me?”
He swore loud enough to rattle the armor on the walls, but five minutes later he was at the map table, fingers tracing lines of power. “Where does he live?”
“San Sequoia. He doesn’t really stray far, because of his history.” I ran down some highlights of Craig’s rap sheet.
“Mortals, always living like they are the immortal ones, ha, fools,” he muttered. “Alright, so messy history. Bad decisions. Great. Give me everything you got on this kid.”
I did. He groaned through all of it. “Stay here. Don’t make me come look for you!” Then he vanished.
Caelan could vanish for five minutes or five days — there’s never an in‑between with him — and I wasn’t about to spend that time staring at my father’s thousand‑year library. I went to find our mother. I’d barely lifted the coffee she gave me to my lips when Caelan appeared in the parlor like the grumpy angel of retribution.
“Told you to wait where I left you.” he barked.
“Caelan! Not in that tone!” our mother snapped.
I stood. “Well?”
“He’s alive. Sober. Not kidnapped. Not high. Just another mortal loser, slowly decomposing as we speak.”
“Take me to him.”
He glared. “I am a Coven Enforcer, not a chauffeur.”
I stared back. “Caelan! I need to see him, maybe talk to him.” My brother growled in response, at least that’s what it sounded like.
“Caelan Vannucci! You take your sister to that boy this instant!” our mother demanded.
We both were raised in a manner that you minded your mother, no matter that we had kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. That rule was etched in stone and non-negotiable. So, Caelan sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, grabbed my arm, and the castle vanished.
He dropped me in a tiny park across from a dingy strip mall, pointing. “There. Your disaster. Have fun. I’m leaving.” And he did.
I turned — peeking through the bushes like a wayward squirrel, and there was Craig, stepping out of an urgent‑care clinic. He looked steady, older, rattled but sober. Then Cayla followed him, crying quietly. He pulled her into his arms, murmuring something soft. She smiled through her agony.
I didn’t need vampire hearing to know what this was about. I could guess.
After some more encouraging words and kissing she went back inside, he waited outside exhaling like he just made a hard choice, so I approached. Grabbed him and ported us out of sight into that small park across the street.
He jumped backwards. “Scarlett?! What— how— why are you here?”
“Chris is worried, said you went MIA. Thought you relapsed.”
He winced. “No. I’m clean. I swear. It’s just—combination of things. Phone died. As in completely on the fritz, Cayla came over crying and well,” He gestured helplessly at the clinic. “We came to… confirm something.”
I raised a brow.
He swallowed, then confirmed my guess. “She’s pregnant.”
I nodded. “And?”
“And we were going to… you know. But we couldn’t. Neither of us could go through with it. So, she’s inside canceling the appointment.”
He looked like he might collapse. “Scarlett, I don’t have a steady income. I do literally anything and everything for money, but it’s day jobs, side hustles. The moment filling out a real application is involved, mine goes straight into the shredder the minute someone sees my rap sheet. I live with my parents. So does she and her job won’t pay for a house let alone to start a family. I don’t know what to do. I’m not ready for this. Neither is she. But it just didn’t feel right to … well … you know.”
“I think you chose well,” I said. “With your history, I don’t think you could thrive with that on your conscience. But you’re not alone with all that. Assume your parents don’t know about it yet, but we both know they will do all they can to help out.”
He gave a shaky laugh. “I know. And— okay, look.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. “I bought this today. Total impulse. I was gonna talk to Chris first, get his blessing that I am not chasing rainbows here, have him help me figure out timing and how and all that… but then this happened, and she was terrified, and I thought— maybe I can make today mean something good instead of something scary.”
He opened the box. The ring caught the fading light.
“Think proposing tonight is insane?” he looked at me for approval.
“Absolutely,” I said. “But also perfect. Just take her somewhere nicer than a strip mall clinic.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out a nice wad of cash and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Don’t even try to argue with me, sweetheart. Oh, and get a new phone or Chris will have a nervous breakdown.”
He nodded, smiled, thanked me, exhaled, and headed back inside.
I ported home.
Chris nearly tackled me. “Scarlett?! Is he okay? Where is he? What happened?”
“He’s fine,” I said. “Long story. I am sure you’ll hear about it later, by the way his phone died. I gave him money to buy a new one and a little extra to take Cayla out for a nice dinner. Spoiler alert: He’s proposing tonight.”
Chris froze. “He’s WHAT?! He didn’t tell me anything! He tells me everything! So much for best friend.”
“Chris, he bought the ring today,” I said. “On a whim. Planned to talk to you first, get your input but something else happened that changed his timeline. Cayla’s pregnant.”
Chris stared at me like I’d told him gravity stopped working.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Oh my God, WTF?!”
I patted his shoulder. “Welcome to adulthood, sweetheart. Sometimes people grow up when you’re not looking. Usually because they have to. It’s all good Chris. I saw Craig. He’s fine. He’ll be alright.”
Keira giggled. “I think Chris just realized that he’s gonna be on Cadie’s shitlist. Eight years together and he still hasn’t proposed yet, when all their friends have tied the knot and are starting families, now even dumpster fire Craig went into pole position ahead of Chris. Ouch.”
“Hilarious Mom. Cadie and I have been a little busy here becoming doctors in case you forgot. That takes a little more than a 4-year college degree. No time to plan weddings.”
“Baby, you have been doctors for a while now. I know for a fact that she is getting tired for being the bridesmaid, but never the bride.” Keira told him, still too amused to pass as compassionate.
“Jeeze Keke, get off the boy’s back! Quit pimping out our son. He’ll propose when he’s ready. Not like we are going to have to worry about being too old to deal with grandkids.” Connor winked, flashing his fangs at her.
“Argh Con-Bear, such a dude-thing to say,” she told him, shaking her head.
**
Well, Cadence was a bridesmaid yet again, and Chris the best man for Craig and Cayla’s romantic destination wedding in Sulani, followed by a weeklong honeymoon, sponsored gracefully by the Cameron family.
A couple weeks later I was downtown Del Sol Valley in the shopping mile when I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. But when has that ever stopped me?
Across the street I saw Chris with his grandma Hailey, my daughter-in-law by son Chase and Blaine’s decided favorite daughter-in-law ever – and Chris’ maternal grandma Maddie entering a fine jeweler in Del Sol Valley which obviously piqued my interest.
Hailey and Maddie looked like they were stepping out of a magazine spread — both of them young, luminous, immortal in that effortless, ageless vampire way that makes mortals stare. You see, most vampires are very attractive, just something that happens somehow, as it is more beneficial if going on a hunt. Chris looked nervous, which was adorable. Once they were inside, I approached and watched through the window. They spent nearly an hour looking at rings, and I watched the whole thing. When he finally chose one — a simple, elegant band with a soft oval diamond — both women hugged him so tightly he nearly dropped the box. He slipped it into his jacket pocket, touched it once, and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.
I didn’t tell him I saw. Some moments belong to the person living them. But I knew my descendants. And I knew Chris was gonna go big.
A few days later, Cadence flew in from Oasis Springs for a long weekend. I wasn’t at the airport, but I watched the security footage later — don’t ask how, I have my ways. She came through the arrivals gate with her hair in a messy bun, wearing a light sundress and sandals, dragging a tiny suitcase behind her. The moment she saw Chris, she lit up like sunrise.
They hugged, long and warm, and then she pulled back and smacked his arm.
“You told me to pack light! You told me warm weather! You told me swimming! Chris, it is pouring down rain and I pulled up the forecast, it’s gonna stay like this for a week!”
And it was — San Sequoia was drowning in a terrible storm. Chris just smiled, that quiet, mischievous smile he gets from Connor.
He turned, picked up his own duffel bag, grabbed her hand, and said, “Not where we’re going.”
“Chris?!” she squeaked, half‑scolding, half‑thrilled.
He didn’t answer. He just led her through the terminal, weaving through crowds until they reached another gate. She looked up at the sign, blinked, and then gasped so loudly the people around them turned.
“Tartosa? Chris! Tartosa?!”
He nodded.
She squealed — actually squealed — threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him right there in front of everyone. “A couple’s vacation? Are you serious? Chris, this is— oh my God, this is perfect!”
He blushed. My sweet boy. He blushed. Daaw.
The flight was long, but they arrived in Tartosa just as the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in gold and rose. Yes, I stalked them, sue me — but in my defense I wasn’t intrusive. A tiny private island, connected to the mainland by a narrow stone bridge. One bungalow. A wraparound deck overlooking the sea. Lemon trees.
Cadence stepped inside and covered her mouth with both hands. “Chris… this is beautiful.”
He set their bags down, walked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him like she’d been doing it her whole life.
I watched, smiling like an idiot, because this — this right here — was the version of Cameron lineage that was clean and made sense. Not chaos. Not drama. No, Connor and his family had their heads on straight. Just two people who once met on a Sulani vacation when they were barely nineteen, who had survived med school together, weathered storms together, and still chose each other after everything.
Later that night, when the lights in the bungalow dimmed and the sea outside shimmered under the moon, I saw him step out onto the deck alone. He reached into his pocket, touched the ring box Hailey and Maddie helped him choose, and closed his eyes. I thought this was it! The Kodak moment. Made me wish Blaine was here, then I remembered why I went on those spy trips without him. No. Blaine would absolutely do something to interfere, just for the sake of mischief. My husband truly was an overgrown toddler on a good day. If you think I am exaggerating, I dare you to spend a full day with him and then we’ll chat again. I love Blaine with every fiber of my being, but I have known him long enough to know his limits. And mine.
Not yet, he seemed to decide. Soon. But not yet.
I sighed, mildly disappointed but let myself feel proud. Not because I was nosey — but because Chris was doing everything so absolutely right, while stepping into the life he deserved with the person that was perfect for him.
*
I didn’t watch every second of their trip — I’m not that unhinged — but I checked in enough to know the rhythm of their days. Tartosa has a way of slowing people down, softening them, making everything feel like it’s happening in warm honey. And Chris, who lives in a constant state of quiet responsibility, needed that more than he realized.
Their first morning on the island, Cadence woke up before him and stepped out onto the deck barefoot, her curly hair messy, wearing one of his shirts. She stood there for a long time, just breathing in the sea air. When Chris joined her, she leaned back into him without a word. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. It was the kind of moment that doesn’t need narration — it just is.
They spent the day exploring, walking across the little stone bridge to the main island, wandering through the old town, stopping at every stall that sold something handmade. Cadence bought a lemon‑shaped candle she absolutely didn’t need. Chris bought her a bracelet from a local artisan when she wasn’t looking. She pretended not to notice, but she smiled the whole time.
In the afternoon, they rented a rowboat and drifted along the coast. Cadence dipped her fingers in the water, trailing ripples behind them. Chris watched her like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at. At one point she leaned over and kissed him, slow and soft, and he touched the ring box in his pocket again— but he didn’t pull it out. What a tease. I was all ready for the sappy moment. Oh well.
That night they cooked dinner together in the tiny bungalow kitchen, bumping hips, laughing, stealing bites from each other’s plates. Afterward they sat on the deck wrapped in a blanket, listening to the waves. Cadence fell asleep on his shoulder. Chris stayed awake long after, staring at the horizon, thumb brushing the outline of the ring box through his pocket.
The next day was even slower. They slept in, had breakfast on the deck, then spent hours on the little private beach. Cadence read a book. Chris pretended to read but mostly watched her. When she caught him staring, she tossed a handful of sand at him. He retaliated by dragging her into the water.
She shrieked, splashed him, then wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him until they both forgot what they were play-fighting about.
That evening, they dressed up for dinner in town. Cadence wore a soft, flowing top that made her look like she belonged in a painting. Chris couldn’t stop staring. They ate pasta under string lights, shared a bottle of wine, and walked back along the waterfront. Cadence stopped to take pictures of the moon reflecting on the water. Chris stopped to take pictures of her.
He almost proposed then. Almost. But he wanted the moment to be theirs alone, without the world watching. Goddamn it, kiddo. Great-grandma finally wants her moment. Don’t you dare make me miss it!
On their last full day, he woke up early and slipped out of bed. He stood on the deck, holding the ring box, breathing in the cool morning air. When Cadence came out behind him, sleepy and warm, he turned and kissed her forehead.
“Get dressed,” he said softly. “I want to show you something.” My ears perked up. This was it! Had to be! And I was not gonna miss it!
She didn’t ask questions. She never does when he uses that tone.
He led her across the bridge, through the winding streets, up a narrow stone path that climbed the cliffs. At the top was a small terrace overlooking the sea — and another bridge, wooden, older, scenic, the entire world spread out below them. The sun was still slowly rising.
Cadence stopped in the middle of the bridge, breath catching. “Chris… this is beautiful.”
He didn’t answer. He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. They stood like that for a long moment, just breathing together.
Then he turned her gently to face him.
“Cadie,” he said, voice quiet but steady, “we’ve been through so much together. Med school, rotations, all‑nighters, bad coffee, good days, terrible days… and every version of my life has been better because you were in it.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
“I know all our friends are way ahead of us here, and you have been more than patient with me, but I hope you always knew that I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you in it. Not as a chapter. As the whole story.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the ring box, and dropped to one knee. I bit my hand or I would have squealed. FINALLY!
“I love you. I want you. I choose you. I want to build a life with you — the calm parts, the chaotic parts, all of it. Cadence Joy Moore … will you marry me?”
She covered her mouth. She cried. She laughed. “Chris, yes — of course yes, YES!”
He slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. She pulled him up and kissed him so hard he nearly lost his balance. Someone down on the beach below must have seen, because a cheer drifted up from below. Cadence laughed against his mouth.
They stayed on that bridge until the sun disappeared, wrapped in each other, the world quiet around them. And I wasn’t crying, you are. Gawd, this was beautiful. Well done Chris. Great-grandma is very proud, a straight A for execution and delivery!
Later, when they walked back to the bungalow hand in hand, Cadence kept looking at her ring like she couldn’t believe it was real. Chris kept looking at her like she was the only thing that ever had been.
And from my vantage point up on a neighboring hill I felt something warm settle in my chest.
This was the right story. The right moment. The right future.
For once, everything and everyone was exactly where it belonged.
EchoesOfLegacy 