Molly did everything she could that day to the best of her ability, all with a broken heart. At one point, Alexei found her hiding in their bathroom.

“Everything’s all right,” she sobbed. “I just can’t stop crying.”

He said nothing, wise man that he was, and just folded her in his arms.

Finally, when the day was over, Molly went to sit in Sarah’s bedroom in the old chair by the empty bed while Alexei took Elisa upstairs to tend to her.

A knock sounded at the open door, and Molly looked up. Sam stood in the doorway, holding a leather-bound book in his arms. He gave her a smile. He was as red-eyed as she was.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Molly wiped her eyes. “I thought you’d already left.”

“Not yet—don’t get up. I was just heading out, but I had one last thing to do.” Walking over, he offered the book. “Sarah wanted me to give this to you once the memorial was over.”

She accepted it with a murmured thanks. “You know, we might have bought this place, but you’re still welcome here anytime, Sam. Come for dinner next week.”

“That sounds good. I’d really like that. Get some rest, will you?”

“You too.”

Sam kissed her forehead, then left, and the house settled into peacefulness. The floorboards creaked as Alexei walked with Elisa in her bedroom. Molly listened, breathing deeply. The house loved having a baby again, and it always knew when everything was all right.

After a time, she relaxed enough to sit back in the chair. Alexei walked in, carrying one of the chairs from the other room. Setting it beside her, he sat and rested a hand on her knee.

She gave him a lopsided smile, and then her attention turned to the leather-bound book in her lap.

She opened it to the first page. It was dated in the spring from two years ago, and written in Sarah’s strong, steady hand.

My dear,

At some point in the future, you are coming into my life, and I don’t know yet who you are, but I love you already. From time to time I can see glimpses of you. They shine like bright fireflies on a warm summer evening.

I wish I could tell you what I see, that you are stronger than you know, more kind than you realize, and so much more powerful than you believe. You are good, whole, and perfect, just the way you are. You always have been, and the people in your life—the people you are even now getting ready to leave—should have told you so. Their loss is my gain.