“I'm home, Granny,” Mara said, flinging herself into Maeve's arms, holding on to her so tight, with those hands Maeve knew and loved so well. Maeve held Mara as if she were still her baby granddaughter, with all the love she had always had, every minute of the time she had been gone, holding on and knowing that she would never let her go again.

Lily sat on the edge of Maeve's bed, with her arm around Rose. She had introduced her grandmother to Liam, but this was one of the greatest moments in her life, bringing Maeve and Rose face-to-face, a meeting she had imagined for nine long years. And it was exactly as Lily had known it would be: Maeve acted as if she'd known Rose since the day she was born, and Rose was quiet and shy, but immensely curious, and unable to stop smiling at her great-grandmother.

“You turned nine years old this summer,” Maeve said smiling.

“Yes. On June twenty-seventh,” Rose said. “How did you know?”

“I've kept track of you,” Maeve said. “Every second.”

“Even though we weren't together?” Rose asked.

“Yes. Even though.”

Lily loved the way her grandmother was taking Rose in. Gazing at her sun-lightened brown braids, her green-gold eyes, her pink mouth. Rose was very small for her age, because of her heart defects, but Maeve would never mention it, just love her all the more.

“I have a scar,” Rose said.

“You do?”

Rose nodded. She glanced at Lily, to see if it was okay to show her. Lily's throat tightened. Rose's heart condition had always been such a big part of who Rose was, and Lily was touched to see Rose wanting her great-grandmother to know it all right away.

Lily helped Rose pull her shirt down below her collarbone, so Maeve could see the newest scar, from the latest operation.

“Rose had open-heart surgery early this summer,” Lily said. “But she's fine now.”

“That's so good to hear,” Maeve said. She didn't frown or look worried. She just smiled calmly at Rose, as if she knew that some people have open-heart surgery and go into comas, but that life just flows on. “Does the scar hurt?”

“It itches,” Rose said.

“Ahh,” Maeve said, as if she understood. She held Rose's hand, shaking it gently.

“I love your name. Rose.”

“Thank you. We're both named after flowers. Me and Mommy.”

“Your mother is named after a flower?” Maeve asked, looking up, meeting Lily's eyes.

“Lily,” she said. “That's the name I've used since I left. I took it, to remind me of your garden. All those daylilies, so bright in the sun.”

“My garden missed you,” Maeve said, eyes glittering.

“I missed it, and you, so much. I needlepointed so many canvases of Sea Garden. The wishing well, the cottage, the roses growing up the door, the four-seasons bench.”

“It's a beautiful place,” Liam said.