“Of course. In fact, I’ll join you.”

Her mother grabbed an avocado and began cutting it in silence. Annika put two pieces of bread in the toaster oven, then grabbed a lime and the salt. She waited for her mother to say something about her meeting up with Sajan.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Daniel.” Her mother looked up from the avocado.

“What?” Annika didn’t have a moment to even hide her astonishment.

“Well, it was clear how you felt about each other—”

“But you and Papa—I thought you didn’t approve.”

Her mother shrugged. “We didn’t. Not at first.” She sighed as she scooped the avocado into the bowl. She put down the spoon. “We were wrong, beta. But we didn’t realize how wrong we were until that day in the hospital.”

Her heart was in her throat; she couldn’t speak. She truly loved Daniel and was certain that kind of love would not come for her again. Tears sprang to her eyes. Ugh. She was done crying.

“I really miss him.”

Her mother shook her head and drew Annika into her arms. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“And those aunties. At that party. What they said—it was so horrible.”

“They are ashamed—I know this for a fact, because I told them off myself.”

Annika pulled back to look at her mother. “You did what?”

“I told them they should be ashamed to say such things. My daughter should not be ashamed of something she has no control over. They always were gossips, those two. Kaki and I have decided they are no longer welcome in our homes.”

“Mom!” Annika was shocked that her mild-mannered mother had been so forceful.

“Don’t be so shocked. I might be quiet, but no one messes with my children.”

The tears were coming down for real now, and Annika could not stop them.

Her mother held her close. “You have cried so much this year, beta. Get it all out.”

As if permission from her mother had been all that she needed, Annika collapsed into her mother’s arms. The scent of cinnamon and cloves enveloped her, and she found herself getting comfort from where she’d always gotten her comfort. Her mother held her close and whispered soothing motherly things as Annika sobbed out every last tear she had for the baby she’d lost and the man she loved.

IT WASN’T UNTIL she pulled into the parking lot that Annika realized which meeting her father was attending. Or running, rather. She had the windows down, the fresh scents of spring tickling her nose. It was past 7:00 p.m., but the spring sun was just starting to set. Thank you, daylight saving time. She pulled out her laptop to tweak next week’s lesson plan.