Maggie had reached them by now, pulling Christopher into a hug that he returned with the kind of fierce intensity that made Emily look away. There was so much history in that embrace, years of worry, of separation, of almost-losing and then not-losing. Emily didn't know all the details, but she knew enough to understand that Christopher's return from Iraq had been a miracle that this family never took for granted.
“Let me see her,” Grandma Sarah commanded from her chair. “Bring me that great-granddaughter.”
Becca carried Eloise over, and the baby’s sleepy eyes went wide at the sight of the tiny bundles in Grandma Sarah's lap.
“These are your cousins. Alexander and Charlotte.” Grandma Sarah shifted so Eloise could see better. “What do you think?”
Eloise studied them for a long moment.
“They’re smaller than you, now, but they’ll grow. You all will.”
Eloise seemed to accept this, smiling at what seemed to be an understanding of her position in the cousin hierarchy.
Christopher had made his way to Beth, and Emily watched as brother and sister embraced. There was something different about the way they held each other, and she remembered Beth telling her that Christopher and she were best friends growing up. Emily could tell they had a special bond.
“You did it, Bethie,” Christopher said, his voice rough. “You actually did it. Twins.”
“I had help.”
“Yeah, but you did the hard part.” He pulled back and looked at her. “Mom said the delivery went well?”
“As well as pushing two humans out of your body can go, I guess.”
“That's my sister. Always underselling the miracle.”
Becca had joined them now, and she hugged Beth carefully, mindful of her still-recovering body. “How are you really? And don't give me the brave face answer. I'm almost a doctor. I'll know if you're lying.”
“I'm exhausted,” Beth admitted. “I'm sore in places I didn't know could be sore. I cry at commercials now. Commercials, Becca. For car insurance.”
“That's hormones. It'll pass.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Give it six weeks and you'll be back to only crying at the really manipulative commercials.”
The house had reached maximum capacity now, Emily realized. Every chair occupied, every corner filled with conversation. Paolo passed out coffee cups while Chelsea documented everything with her phone.
And through it all, Maggie moved like the center of gravity, touching a shoulder here, refilling a cup there, making sure everyone had what they needed without ever seeming to rush.
Emily watched her and felt something she couldn't quite name. Admiration, maybe. Or gratitude. Or the simple recognition of someone who had learned to hold a family together through sheer force of love.
Later, as the afternoon faded toward evening and the crowd began to thin, Emily slipped out the back door and walked toward the orchard. She needed a few minutes of quiet, a chance to let her overstimulated brain settle.
The apple trees were still bare, but she could see the first hints of buds forming on the branches. In a few weeks, there would be blossoms. In a few months, fruit. The cycle of the orchard was new to her, but she could already tell there were rhythms to this cycle, as predictable and comforting as a heartbeat.
She crouched beside one of the older trees, examining the bark for signs of the disease Thomas had warned her about, when she heard footsteps approaching.
“There you are.” It was Paolo, his accent warm in the cooling air. “I thought I might find you out here.”
“I needed some quiet.”
“I understand. The Wheelers are wonderful, but they are not quiet people.” He stood beside her, hands in his pockets, looking out over the orchard. “I wanted to say goodbye. I'm leaving early tomorrow, before most of them are awake.”
Emily stood and faced him. “You're going back to Captiva and your business, Sanibellia.”
“The business needs me. And Maggie, she is where she needs to be right now. With her family.”
“You're her family too.”
