“Let her have her moment,” Paolo agreed, sliding his arm around Maggie's waist. “She’s earned it.”
The front door opened, and Gabriel appeared, slightly out of breath, bits of hay clinging to his flannel shirt. He must have heard the commotion from the barn and come running.
“I'm so sorry,” he said, crossing quickly to Beth's side and kissing the top of her head. “I was in the middle of fixing the stall door and lost track of time.” He turned to the newcomers, his face breaking into a warm smile. “Welcome. Grandma, Lauren, Sarah, it's wonderful to see you all.”
“Gabriel.” Grandma Sarah looked up from the twins in her arms. “Come here and look at what you made. These two are absolutely perfect.”
Gabriel moved closer, his eyes softening as he gazed at his children cradled in the old woman's arms. “They are, aren't they? I still can't quite believe they're real.”
“Believe it,” Grandma Sarah said. “They're real, and they're yours, and they're going to keep you up at night for the next eighteen years. At least.”
“I'm already not sleeping,” Gabriel admitted. “But I don't mind. Every time I look at them, I think about how lucky we are.”
Beth reached for his hand, and he took it, the two of them standing together beside Grandma Sarah's chair. A new family, Maggie thought. Built on love and hope and the kind of quiet determination that got you through sleepless nights and endless diaper changes.
“You've done well, young man,” Grandma Sarah told Gabriel. “Taking care of my granddaughter, giving her this beautiful home, these beautiful babies. I approve.”
Outside, the afternoon sun was beginning to slant toward evening. Tomorrow, Christopher and Becca would arrive. Soon, they would all drive to Andover to begin the long process of saying goodbye to the house that had held so many memories.
But that was tomorrow. Today, there was only this: family gathered together, new life cradled in old arms, and the sound of laughter filling every corner of the house.
Grandma Sarah looked up and caught Maggie's eye.
“This is what it's all about,” she said quietly. “This right here. Everything else is just details.”
Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Her mother was right. Everything else was just details.
CHAPTER 19
Emily Wheeler had never been comfortable in chaos.
Growing up, she had learned to navigate the world by finding its patterns, its predictable rhythms. When things became too loud or too crowded or too much, she would retreat to her room, or to a quiet corner, or to whatever small space she could find where the world made sense again.
But this chaos was different.
She stood at the edge of the living room, watching the Wheeler family swirl around her like a river around a stone. Grandma Sarah was holding court from the armchair, one twin in each arm and a captive audience at her feet. Lauren and Sarah were arguing about something in the kitchen, Emily couldn't quite make out what, but it involved a lot of hand gestures and occasional laughter. Chelsea took photographs of everything, narrating as she went. Paolo made coffee, and the smell of it filled the house like a warm embrace.
And through it all, the babies made their presence known. Alexander with his soft snuffling sounds. Charlotte with her occasional sharp cries that seemed to demand immediate attention from Beth.
It should have overwhelmed her. A year ago, it would have.
But something had shifted. Maybe it was the farm itself, with its wide-open spaces and its predictable rhythms of chores and seasons. Maybe it was Beth, who never seemed to expect Emily to be anything other than exactly who she was. Maybe it was the kidney beating steadily inside her, Paolo's kidney, a piece of this family literally keeping her alive.
Or maybe she was just finally learning that chaos didn't have to be the enemy. Sometimes it was just love being loud.
“You're doing that thing again,” Beth said, appearing beside her.
“What thing?”
“The thing where you stand on the edge and watch everyone like you're taking notes for a nature documentary.”
Emily considered this. “That's not entirely inaccurate.”
Beth laughed, and Emily felt the warmth of it wash over her. Beth's laugh was one of her favorite sounds, genuine and unguarded, the kind of laugh that invited you in rather than shutting you out.
“Come sit with me,” Beth said. “I need someone quiet for a few minutes. I love my family, but they're a lot.”
