Ma smelled like sweet flowers and the bakery. That smell had been my home for five perfect years. Pa’s hand was strong on my shoulder, steady and warm. They didn’t say any silly things or promise me that everything would be okay. They just held me. In that quiet time, I found the first piece of peace since everything went wrong.
They guided me gently to the big, soft couch. I leaned heavily against Ma, my head on her shoulder, as the last shakes of my sadness left my body.
I lifted my tear-stained face and looked up. That’s when I saw them.
They were standing near the doorway, looking worried, my two precious children. Isabella was holding Marco’s hand. Her face was full of concern. Marco looked scared and hurt, a look I hated to see on him.
“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice small.
Bef
