They found a spot on the window seat in the front room, slightly removed from the main commotion. Beth leaned back against the cushions with a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her bones.
“How are you feeling?” Emily asked. “Really?”
“Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Terrified.” Beth paused. “Happy. Mostly happy. Is it possible to be all of those things at once?”
“I think that's called being human.”
“I think that makes sense.”
Beth smiled and looked out the window at the orchard. The late afternoon light was turning everything golden, and Emily could see Thomas and James in the distance, walking back from the workshop.
“I'm glad you're here,” Beth said quietly. “I know this must be strange for you. All these people, all this noise. But I'm really glad you stayed.”
“Where else would I go?”
“I don't know. You could go anywhere. You could have gotten your own apartment. You didn't have to come here and help with the orchard and deal with this crazy family.”
Emily thought about this for a moment, trying to find the right words. Words had always been tricky for her, they never seemed to come out quite the way they existed in her head.
“I spent most of my life feeling like I didn't belong anywhere,” she finally said. “Like I was always on the outside of something looking in. Coming here makes me feel better somehow, and…” She trailed off, struggling.
“And?”
“And you just made room. All of you. You didn't ask me to be different or try harder or fit into some shape I wasn't built for. You just made room.”
Beth reached over and took her hand. Her grip was warm and firm, and Emily didn't pull away.
“That's what family does,” Beth said. “At least, that's what family should do.”
They sat for a while, watching the light change over the orchard. From the other room came a burst of laughter and Grandma Sarah's voice saying something about diapers and highways.
“Paolo's leaving tomorrow,” Beth said eventually. “Did Mom tell you?”
Emily nodded. She had overheard the conversation that morning, Paolo apologizing, explaining that Sanibellia needed him, that he had already stayed longer than he'd planned. Maggie had understood, of course. She always understood.
“It'll be strange without him,” Emily said.
“It will. But Mom has us. She has all of us.” Beth squeezed herhand once more, then released it. “And she has you. Don't underestimate how much that means to her.”
Before Emily could respond, there was a commotion at the front door.
“They're here!” someone shouted from the other room. “Chris and Becca are here!”
The house erupted into motion. Emily stayed where she was on the window seat, watching as yet another wave of family crashed through the front door.
Christopher came first, tall and broad-shouldered, his gait slightly uneven from the prosthetic leg that Emily knew he wore but that he never talked about. Behind him came Becca, carrying a sleepy baby who clutched a stuffed rabbit with the kind of desperate affection that suggested it had been a long journey.
“We made it,” Christopher announced, setting down a duffel bag that looked like it weighed more than the toddler. “Flight was delayed, traffic from Logan was terrible, and Eloise had a meltdown somewhere near the Zakim Bridge. But we made it.”
“Ellie did not have a meltdown,” Becca said. “Ellie had a reasonable response to being trapped in her car seat when she wanted out.”
“Meltdown.”
“Reasonable response.”
“She threw her juice box at my head.”
“Maybe you were driving too slow. She couldn’t wait to see her new cousins.”
