“Everything went as smoothly as it could possibly have gone,” Sebastian said.

Some of Megan’s tension appeared to ease. “Praise the Lord.”

“As you know, she has a long road ahead of her.” The first of many obstacles—the possibility that Isabella’s body would reject the heart. “But for now, she’s doing very well.”

“And the new heart,” Timothy said. “It just . . . started beating?”

“The new heart is flawless and strong. Sometimes, when we start blood flow, hearts are reluctant to start up again. But not this time. The second we started blood flow, the new heart began to beat in perfect sinus rhythm.”

Sebastian understood the science and medicine behind heart transplant. Even so, he regarded the fact that a donor’s heart could beat in a recipient’s body as a miracle. Every time he’d witnessed a heart transplant, he’d watched a miracle just as legitimate as the one God had performed when He’d defended Sebastian from death in El Salvador.

Megan started to cry.

In the past he’d removed his emotions as much as he could from his patients and their parents. But now, because of Leah, his own feelings were much closer to the surface.

Timothy turned Megan to him and hugged her.

“It’s a good day,” Sebastian assured them. “Your daughter has received a brand-new start.”

Leah treated herself to a dessert break at Polka Dot Apron Pies that afternoon. She’d stopped at the post office, and the pie truck was too conveniently close to pass up.

She sat at one of the round tables on the sidewalk near the food trucks delighting in a slice of pumpkin pie and contemplating how to further her investigation into Bonnie and Ian O’Reilly.

It wouldn’t hurt to reach out to Joyce Caffarella, Bonnie’s fellow nurse, one more time. Joyce remembered Bonnie. And Leah was fairly certain that Joyce had invited Leah to contact her again, if needed.

She consulted her text message conversation with Joyce. Sure enough, the older woman had said, Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.

Leah crafted a text.

Hi! This is Leah Montgomery. Thanks again for talking with me and sending me Bonnie and Tracy’s contact information. I’ve made some headway in my search for information on Bonnie O’Reilly, but now I’m stuck again. If, by chance, you remember anything else, please let me know.

Leah sectioned off another bite of pie. Crisp, buttery pastry crust supported rich filling and a dollop of whipped cream.

In addition to researching death certificates, Genevieve had mentioned that yearbooks and newspapers had proven helpful. Leah didn’t see how yearbooks could be relevant to her search, but a newspaper article might divulge facts she could use as a springboard to get in touch with friends, relatives, and employers of Bonnie’s—any of whom may have a phone number for her.