“As you should know from my letters,” Paulina said, “I’ve been to India, but I spent some time in the islands before returning. I’ve felt drawn back home for reasons I couldn’t explain, and I confess I’ve missed you most of all.” She winked and lowered her voice to a whisper even though they were alone. “But don’t tell anyone.” She laughed softly and went on. “But truthfully I don’t know how long I’ll stay; funny how I already feel restless and I only arrived very late last night. I’ve considered a few different possibilities of where I might go next.”

Amala sighed, determined to make the most of every minute her aunt chose to remain here and to not to let her departure be as upsetting as it had been for her at times in the past.

“Enough about me for now, my precious girl. You must tell me what ails you. And I’ll not settle for the barely truthful explanations you’ve been giving everyone else. I’m your auntie, and you know I’ll keep your secrets. You do have secrets, don’t you?” It was not a question, which reminded Amala how unnerving Kat's extra sense could be at times. “The others might not see it, but I knew as soon as my brother told me your ‘symptoms.’ This is not something physical that ails you, even if it makes you ache and consumes you with exhaustion. This is a broken heart if I’ve ever seen one. And yet I’m told there have been no gentlemen suitors. So a secret it must be. What have you been up to, and why has it come to such a dreadful outcome that would put someone so strong and willful into this devastating state?”

Amala’s tears came again, if only to hear the truth of her situation voiced so accurately. To not feel alone, to feel heard and understood—even without having said a word—warmed her so deeply that she could only cry once again in her auntie’s arms. But Paulina seemed to have expected such a response, and she was well prepared with a handkerchief tucked into each of her sleeves. Her feminine embrace felt safe and secure. The shoulder Amala cried on felt strong and able to share any burden, and her tender words of comfort and reassurance filled Amala with strength.

A knock at the door startled Amala, but Paulina came to her feet and said, “It’s all right. Just hide yourself in the bed for a moment. I asked that breakfast be brought here for the both of us and told the family I’d be spending the morning seeing to my niece and her ‘illness’.”