“Your face, George!” Tim laughed, nudging his son gently. “You’d think Amy was a ghost the way you’re staring.”
George’s cheeks flushed, but he smiled.
“Can’t blame him,” Amy joked. “It’s been a spell since I’ve joined y’all like this.”
“True enough,” Tim said, still smiling.
The meal continued, and Amy was so happy to be able to be a part of it. But as the minutes ticked by, her energy waned, and soon, the simple act of keeping her eyes open became a battle. With gentle insistence from Brenda, Amy conceded, allowing herself to be helped back to bed.
The moment her head touched the pillow, fatigue threatened to pull her under, but Brenda’s voice cut through the haze. “Now, don’t you go falling asleep just yet,” she warned, the door clicking shut behind her. “The girls and I have a surprise cooked up for you.”
“Surprise?” Amy said, curiosity flickering. She propped herself against the pillows, determined to stay awake. The thought of what the girls had planned brought a fragile spark of anticipation to her chest, a soft glow in the quiet of her room.
Amy blinked back the heaviness in her eyelids as she sat upright, propped by a mound of pillows. She resisted the pull of sleep with every ounce of will she possessed. The murmurs and giggles from beyond the door piqued her curiosity.
“Stay awake, stay awake,” she whispered to herself, a mantra to fend off the encroaching slumber.
The door creaked open, and a parade of excitement spilled into the room. One by one, the girls twirled in, each adorned in a new dress.
“Look, Amy!” Priscilla said, spinning so her skirts flared out like petals on a blooming flower. “It’s pink!”
“And mine has lace! Hannah even taught me how to make lace myself!” Beatrice told her, her hands skimming over the delicate trim with reverence.
“Do you think it’s as red as a ruby?” Ruby asked.
With each presentation, Amy clapped and praised, her fatigue all but forgotten amidst girls, gowns, and giggles. She saw how they basked in her attention—these girls who had become her daughters—and felt her heart swell with a love that was both fierce and tender.
“All of you look beautiful,” Amy said.
“We love them,” Priscilla said. “And we learned so much as Cassandra taught us to sew them.”
“Missed you lots,” Beatrice said warmly. Amy thought maybe, just maybe, she and Beatrice would be able to get along better now.
Amy eased herself back against the pillows. Life, with all its simple pleasures, felt whole again.
“Thank you all for showing me,” she said.
A shadow fell across the quilt as Beatrice perched beside her. The girl, usually a tempest of bottled emotions, sat silent, watching Amy with an intensity that seemed to weigh her down.
“Beatrice?” Amy’s brow creased with concern, catching a shimmer in the young girl’s eye.
“I just...” Beatrice said, “I want to say something.”
“Go on,” Amy encouraged, curious about what stirred behind those troubled eyes.
Beatrice took a deep breath. “I’m really thankful for you, Amy,” she confessed, “for coming to live with us.” She fiddled with the edge of Amy’s blanket, not meeting her gaze.
“You’re...You’re a wonderful Ma. Better than I ever thought we could have again.”
Amy reached out, resting her hand over Beatrice’s. Their fingers intertwined, bridging the gap of past misunderstandings.
“Thank you, Beatrice,” Amy replied, her throat tightening with emotion.
“And I’m sorry,” Beatrice continued, a lone tear slipping down her cheek, “for the way I’ve treated you. You’ve been nothing but kind.”
“I have a feeling I’d have felt the same way you did if I’d lost my mother. Well, if I’d known my mother before losing her,” Amy said.
