Once the ferry had docked, and Patrick had driven off and parked his car, he'd stood there quietly with his dog, watching the sisters and Jessica reunite. Marisa had been hugging Sam, pulling Jessica into the embrace. They cried, holding each other. Marisa looked into her sister's eyes, hardly able to believe she was here.

“You came,” Marisa said. “Oh, Sam . . .”

“With a little help,” Sam said, her eyes glinting as she looked at Patrick.

“Patrick. Thank you so much,” Marisa said, turning to smile at him. Only then did he step forward, give Marisa a surprisingly shy glance and a quick hug. Marisa felt him in her arms, and her heart jumped. He kissed her lightly, and she reached up to touch his cheek.

“I'm so glad it worked out,” he said, his blue eyes burning into hers.

“What happened?” Marisa asked.

“I called your sister,” he said. “And she had already made up her mind. She was on her way—all she needed was a ride.”

“You were on your way?” Marisa asked Sam.

Sam nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. It had been over two years since Marisa had looked into her eyes. They were bright green, with fine lines radiating out at the corners. Marisa wanted to touch her face, wipe her tears away. She held back, trembling.

“I was on my way,” Sam said, her voice throaty and low. “Patrick's visit . . . well, it helped me realize how much I needed to see you.”

“We needed to see you too,” Marisa said.

“We did, Aunt Sam,” Jessica said.

“You've grown so much,” Sam said, crouching down. “I can hardly believe it.” She shook, sobbing. “I've missed two years of your life.”

“I never stopped thinking of you,” Jessica said, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Oh, honey.” Sam wept. “I thought of you and your mother every day. No matter where I was or what I was doing.”

“We love you, Sam,” Marisa said.

“We do, Aunt Sam,” Jessica said.

“It's time we'll never get back,” Sam said, looking at them both. “Can you forgive me?”

Oh, what a question. Sam's eyes were so hopeful, beseeching. Marisa gazed into them and saw the little sister she had always loved, to whom she had read The House at Pooh Corner, and with whom she had studied biochemistry and epidemiology.

“Sam,” Marisa whispered.

“I didn't know,” Sam said, holding her hands, “that you had left him for good. You always went back. I just couldn't watch you do it anymore.”

“I'm so sorry,” Marisa said.

The sisters embraced. For Marisa, all the years melted away. Wherever in the world Sam had been, whether they had been speaking or not, they had never lost touch. They were sisters, connected forever.

“It's over now,” Jessica said, “and we're all together.”