“Do you know who is here, Lucia? Do you? It’s your mamma—the pretty lady here with the curly hair. And your papà is here, too. You have your mamma and papà again. They came back to you, just as I said they would.”

Now Rosa began to cry. “What you both have gone through . . . I can’t even let myself think about it. The stories we’ve heard. And the photographs in the paper were enough to turn my blood cold.”

“We don’t have to talk about any of that today,” Nina promised her sister-in-law. “Not if it makes you sad. But we’re both very hungry, and I’ve been telling Stella about your soup for months and months.”

They were just finishing off their meal when Father Bernardi arrived, Carlo having taken it upon himself to run to the rectory as soon as he’d gobbled down his supper.

Poor Father Bernardi could barely speak for weeping, and Nina resolved, yet again, to save the details of what had happened to her and Nico for another day. Instead they gathered around the table, and Aldo brought out his best bottle of grappa, and all of them save Carlo drank a toast to the miraculous return of Nico and Nina, and the felicitous addition to the family of Stella.

Agnese and Angela then announced they were going to show their new sister around the farm, and when Carlo began to fuss at being left out Stella took his hand and asked him if he would introduce her to Bello, for she had heard all about him from Nina and wanted to see the world’s prettiest mule for herself. Paolo and Matteo were already upstairs, set to work by Rosa on rearranging the beds so everyone might have a place to sleep that night, Stella included.

“So you simply happened upon one another in Bolzano?” Father Bernardi asked, his composure restored by the grappa. “At the little station there?”

“We did,” Nina confirmed. “It was like something out of a book. I turned around and there he was. The hero of my story, and I didn’t have to go looking for him. Instead he came to me.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. You are both well? And dear Stella, too?”

“We are. A little too thin, but we’re in good health. I’d say it was a miracle if I still believed in such things.” Nico softened this last statement with an easy smile.

Father Bernardi nodded, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. It was the first time Nina had ever known him to be at a loss for words.

“Is anything the matter?” she asked. “Is there something else we need to know?”