“It was hard. As the years went by, his mother pushed us into a relationship that was more than friends. She had dreams of us getting married and having children and all of us living close by. Daddy and I fell into dating because it felt like the next natural step. We never dated anyone else and got married at twenty. Back then, women had few choices. We were meant to be mothers and homemakers, and our husbands were the ones to make the money and provide for the family.”

Worry skated over her features, but this time, I didn’t jump to soothe it. “I know you mentioned you wanted more children. How many miscarriages did you have, Mom?”

Too many. The grief and cut of loss were still brutal. “Four. You were my miracle child.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Her eyes filled with an empathetic pain I’d never glimpsed before—not with me. “It must’ve been hard being so lonely with Dad working all the time. I never really thought of it that way. You never wanted to expand into a career? Go back to school? Do something else after I got older?”

My laugh was genuine. “Oh, honey, your father wouldn’t have wanted that. He liked a hot meal on the table, a clean house, and knowing the bills were taken care of. His work schedule was too demanding for me to flit off and try to find a job that wouldn’t even pay a quarter of his salary. We’d lived too many years with our roles to make a change. And what could I have done? I had no skills. I was afraid of technology. I couldn’t even type! No, I made my peace with my choices a long time ago. I had my books and my garden and you. I had friends, and my church and charities. I had enough.”

As I said the words, I realized it was the truth. Yes, I’d craved a houseful of children to spoil and pamper, but it wasn’t meant to be. I found a way through the years to accept the losses, tucking the crippling wounds down deep in my soul and locking them away. I prayed for my lost babies every day. It may not have been the life I’d planned for, but it was a good one, and God had blessed me in many ways. And though Jack had died much too soon, I’d had Frannie, then Allegra to love.

It was enough.

Allegra came back to the table. We rose, and Frannie shocked me by stepping forward and giving me a big hug. After a second of hesitation, I hugged her back, savoring my child’s sweetness and strength and a love that knew no boundaries in this life or beyond.

“I’m so happy we got to see Naples,” she murmured in my ear.

“Me too.”