‘Shhh,’ Hope whispered. ‘You don’t have to decide anything until you’re ready. I’ll make one of the beds up for you, just in case, so that you know you have a place here to return to.’
‘Why?’ Evelina asked, her voice barely audible. ‘Why are you being so kind to me?’
Hope was silent. She struggled to find the right words, the balance between telling her enough but not too much; to make sure she shared just enough to help Evelina understand her empathy.
‘Because I’ve been in a similar situation to you, and the way I was treated…’
Evelina was still trembling, and Hope caught herself before she said something she might later wish she hadn’t. This was about Evelina, not her, and she quickly wiped away her tears while Evelina had her head lowered, not wanting her guest to see how hard this was for her.
‘I have my own personal reasons for doing what I’m doing,’ Hope said, hearing renewed strength in her own voice. ‘But unlike many others helping women in need, I understand what it’s like to be treated as if I’m somehow worthless because of circumstances outside of my control. Put simply, I don’t want other women to feel that way, not if I can help it.’
She sensed the change in Evelina, the way the young woman’s eyes met hers, as if hearing even a little of Hope’s personal circumstances had made her understand her motivations. Hope knew then that Evelina trusted her.
‘If it’s not an inconvenience,’ Evelina said, wiping her damp cheeks, ‘I’d very much like to return with my things this evening.’
Hope couldn’t hold back her smile; the weight that lifted off her chest came as a great relief as she realised that she was going to be able to help Evelina in the way all women deserved to be cared for when they were at their most vulnerable.
‘I’d like that, Evelina,’ she said. ‘How about we finish our coffee and I show you around the house? Then you can organise your affairs and we can make up your room together.’
A gentle silence settled between them as they both sipped their coffee, and for the first time in months, a little piece of sadness inside Hope was healed.
‘Now, tell me all about where you’re from, Evelina,’ she asked, settling back into her chair. ‘I’d forgotten just how much I’ve missed France until you walked through my door.’
Hope smiled as she listened to Evelina speak, knowing in her heart that what they would share through the coming weeks would make them as close as two women could be. She would give her all the care and love she’d prayed for herself when she’d needed it, and when the time was right, she would tell Evelina about her idea for the little wooden boxes she’d had made. Because if she chose to offer her baby for adoption, Hope wanted her to know that she could leave something behind for her child. She imagined them as little clues to the past, and maybe, just maybe, those babies would grow into adults who wanted to find the mother who’d given birth to them. Which was why she’d had eight of them made to start with—one for her to create a box for her own daughter, even though she’d never receive it, and the rest for other women who liked the idea.
Because at the very least, it would mean those children would have something that connected them to their mothers, if they ever discovered that they were adopted—something that Hope would forever wish she could have done for the daughter she’d never know.
She still hadn’t decided what to leave in her box, or whether she even wanted to place anything in there at all. At one point she’d imagined her own set of clues for her daughter being tucked away safely with all the other boxes from other mothers. And when she did, she pictured it being a little bottle of her and Gus’s famous absinthe that she’d saved, one of her drawings, and maybe even the diamond earrings that Charles had left for her. She wasn’t ready to put them in there yet—she wantedto remember him and wear them every day for now—but she would have loved her daughter to have them. Perhaps they were something she could talk to the lawyer about one day, just in case he ever found her daughter.
Hope smiled across the table at Evelina, watching the way her expression changed, how relaxed she’d become in her company. And even though her heart was still broken from all she’d lost, she too felt a sense of hope at what was to come.
Not because she’d ever forget those she’d loved and lost, because she doubted she’d ever stop mourning the loss of Gus, her daughter or even Charles; but because she’d chosen not to close her heart. She was ready to love these women fiercely for the time they were with her, even if she had no doubt that every baby born in her home would take a piece of her with them.
Thank you, Charles. For the gift of this home, for showing me the love of family. Your kindness will never be forgotten.
39
Mia looked around her and struggled not to cry, her tears burning her eyes as she blinked them away. It was so beautiful it took her breath away. Fairy lights hung from the trees, creating a twinkling canopy as the sun slowly began to set, and the wooden trestle tables beneath were set with jars filled with candles and simple white flowers. If she’d closed her eyes and dreamed of the perfect setting, it would be here.
‘What do you think?’ Joe whispered in her ear, his hand finding hers.
She turned, her arms sliding around his neck as she gazed into his eyes, a single tear escaping.
‘I think that nothing has ever felt so perfect.’
He smiled and closed the distance between them, his lips gently meeting hers.
‘Ahem.’
Mia turned, her arms still around Joe, to see a very stern-faced Lily staring at them.
‘You do realise you’re supposed to kissafteryou’re pronounced husband and wife?’ Lily sounded exasperated, but Mia didn’t miss the slight tilt of her lips as they turned up into a smile.
‘I’m sorry, she just couldn’t keep her hands off me,’ Joe said, stepping back and stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Mia laughed as he shook his head, and Lily stepped in and took her arm.
‘Being here, seeing the tables like this, it reminds me of my very first harvest here with Antonio and his family,’ she said, dropping her head to Mia’s shoulder. ‘It’s taken me right back to when we first fell in love.’
