Chapter 6 - The Night Everything Went Wrong
The egg was developing.
That was the preliminary assessment.
Not proof of a healthy embryo.
Not proof that anything would hatch.
But enough evidence to make Rebecca want further monitoring.
Margaret read the report three times.
“How?”
Daniella shook her head.
“We don’t know yet.”
Margaret looked toward the rebuilt enclosure.
Sunny had returned home that morning under strict instructions.
The transformation of the sunroom was dramatic.
Independent temperature sensors.
Backup heating.
Secure maintenance panels.
Humidity alarms.
A camera system.
Emergency power.
Sunny rested inside.
No roaming.
No upstairs visits.
No bed.
Margaret followed every rule.
She surprised Daniella.
“I expected more arguments.”
“I’m capable of learning.”
“I know.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m enjoying the moment.”
The possible fertile egg remained at the clinic under controlled incubation while specialists determined viability.
Margaret became obsessed with Sunny’s old records.
She called the rescue organization.
Then animal control.
Then the property manager from the apartment where Sunny had been found.
Most people remembered little.
Three years had passed.
The tenants had vanished.
Nobody wanted to discuss it.
Then Margaret found a name.
Alan Mercer.
The apartment superintendent who had entered after the eviction.
She tracked him down through an old property company.
Alan was retired and living outside Norfolk.
When Margaret called, he remembered the snake immediately.
“Big plastic tub in a bedroom closet.”
“She was young then.”
“There were cages everywhere.”
Margaret sat straighter.
“Other animals?”
“Empty cages mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Alan hesitated.
“I remember another snake enclosure.”
Daniella, sitting nearby, leaned closer.
“Did you see another snake?” Margaret asked.
“No. Just shed skin. Bigger than your python’s was.”
Margaret’s heart raced.
“What happened to it?”
“No idea.”
After the call, Daniella cautioned her.
“This doesn’t prove anything.”
“I know.”
“You have the expression.”
“What expression?”
“The one you get before turning something into a mission.”
“I learned that from your father.”
“You absolutely did.”
But the investigation changed nothing important about Sunny’s immediate care.
Weeks passed.
Sunny recovered.
Her appetite returned.
Her behavior became calmer once environmental conditions stabilized.
She stopped pushing against the enclosure.
The nightly escape attempts vanished.
And Margaret no longer left the sunroom access open.
At first, bedtime felt strange.
Margaret would switch off her lamp and instinctively glance toward the foot of the bed.
Nothing.
She missed Sunny.
But she slept better.
She hadn’t realized how often part of her brain remained alert while the large python rested beside her.
One evening, Daniella visited with takeout.
“How are you doing?”
“With Chinese food?”
“With sleeping alone.”
Margaret gave her a look.
“That question sounded suspiciously psychological.”
“It was.”
“I’m fine.”
“Really?”
Margaret nodded.
“Better, actually.”
Daniella smiled.
Margaret twirled noodles around her fork.
“I still talk to your father.”
“That’s allowed.”
“I talk to Sunny too.”
“Also allowed.”
“I do not bring either one into bed.”
Daniella nearly choked laughing.
Their relationship changed after the incident.
Daniella visited more.
Not because she believed Margaret incapable of living alone.
Because she realized independence and isolation were not the same thing.
Margaret started attending a local gardening club again.
She reconnected with Carol.
She even allowed herself to accept an invitation to dinner from a widowed former school principal named Henry.
“It isn’t a date,” she told Daniella.
Daniella said nothing.
“It’s dinner.”
Silence.
“Stop smiling.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re smiling loudly.”
Then, nearly seven weeks after Sunny laid the eggs, the clinic called.
The developing egg remained viable.
Margaret sat down.
“Oh.”
Daniella laughed.
“That’s all you have?”
“I’m processing.”
“There’s still a long way to go.”
“Can I visit?”
“Yes.”
Margaret spent ten minutes choosing a sweater.
Daniella stared.
“You realize the egg doesn’t care what you’re wearing.”
“It’s an occasion.”
At the clinic, Rebecca showed them the incubation system.
Margaret watched in wonder.
“Do you think it will make it?”
“I don’t make promises with things like this.”
Margaret nodded.
Then Rebecca’s expression became serious.
“What?”
“I want to discuss what happens if it hatches.”
Margaret immediately said, “I’ll keep it.”
Daniella closed her eyes.
“Mom.”
“What?”
Rebecca raised one hand.
“This is precisely the conversation we need.”
Margaret looked between them.
“You think I shouldn’t.”
“I think we need to consider what’s best for the animal,” Rebecca said.
Margaret’s instinct was to argue.
Then she remembered the lessons of the last two months.
What’s best for the animal.
Not what makes me feel less lonely.
She looked again at the egg.
“What are the options?”
“A qualified reptile facility. An experienced private keeper. Possibly a conservation education program, depending on species and circumstances.”
“And staying with me?”
“Possible only if you can provide appropriate separate housing, long-term planning, and safe handling arrangements.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“I’ll think.”
That evening, a storm moved through Richmond.
High winds.
Heavy rain.
By 10:00, branches struck the windows.
At 10:37, the power went out.
Margaret froze.
Then emergency lights in the sunroom activated.
The backup system switched on.
Her phone alarm displayed Sunny’s enclosure status.
Temperature stable.
Margaret laughed in relief.
“Worth every penny.”
Then her phone rang.
Daniella.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Backup power?”
“Working.”
“Sunny?”
“Fine.”
“Do not open the enclosure.”
“I know.”
“Mom.”
“I know.”
They spoke for several minutes.
Then Margaret went upstairs.
Outside, thunder shook the windows.
At 1:06, she woke to another alarm.
Not the house.
Her phone.
LOW BACKUP BATTERY.
Margaret sat upright.
The storm had damaged power lines throughout the area.
The outage could last hours.
She went downstairs.
Sunny’s temperature remained safe.
For now.
Margaret called Daniella.
No answer.
She called again.
Still no answer.
Daniella was working an overnight emergency shift.
Margaret left a message.
Then checked the backup duration.
Three hours.
Possibly four.
The outside temperature was dropping.
Margaret stared at Sunny’s enclosure.
Months earlier, she would have opened it.
She would have brought Sunny upstairs.
Shared body heat.
Solved the problem in the simplest way she knew.
Her hand moved toward the latch.
Then stopped.
No.
She had learned.
Margaret called the emergency number Aaron had given her.
Within fifteen minutes, they walked her through activating a secondary power pack stored beside the enclosure.
Temperature stabilized.
Margaret exhaled.
“Good girl,” she whispered through the glass.
Sunny remained curled inside.
At 2:18, Daniella finally returned the call.
“I’m sorry. We had an emergency.”
“We’re okay.”
“You opened the enclosure?”
“No.”
Silence.
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
Daniella’s voice softened.
“I’m proud of you.”
Margaret smiled.
“Don’t make a big thing out of it.”
At 4:12, utility power returned.
Margaret climbed back into bed.
The storm weakened.
She closed her eyes.
For the first time, she understood the difference between rescuing and possessing.
Sunny did not need to sleep beside her to belong in her life.
Margaret did not need physical closeness to prove their bond mattered.
Two weeks later, however, Daniella arrived unexpectedly before sunrise.
Margaret found her on the porch holding car keys.
“What happened?”
“The egg.”
Margaret went pale.
“Is something wrong?”
Daniella shook her head.
Then smiled.
“You need to come with me.”
“Why?”
“Because something started happening thirty minutes ago.”
Margaret stared.
Then realization dawned.
She rushed back inside for her coat.
And as they drove through the dark morning streets toward the clinic, Margaret’s hands trembled in her lap.
Not with fear this time.
With wonder.
Because after months of uncertainty, Sunny’s hidden past was about to leave behind something very small.
May you like
Something alive.
And Margaret was about to face one final decision.
