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"Of course," Gina said, sounding less than steady herself.
Mercy was thrilled, and completely oblivious to our anguish. Also, she was an instant fan of Dante's. She'd always wanted to be a flower girl, she told him.
"What color do I get to wear?" she asked him, sidling closer.
"Whatever color you want," he said.
She clapped her hands. "Can I pick more than one color?"
"Of course. You can pick them all."
And just like that, they were buddies. She wanted to sit by him at dinner. She wanted him to cut up her meatballs into little tiny pieces and then her spaghetti.
They were fast friends. It was hard to watch but necessary.
We stayed much longer than I normally did, and I knew without having to ask that this would be the new pattern.
It was hours later, and Dante and I were sitting on the back porch swing, our hands clasped hard together, every finger entwined, hips glued like we were attached, watching Gina and Eugene dig through a large outdoor sandbox with Mercy.
"It's so strange that we can just visit her like this," Dante said, his eyes on the mother of our child.
"It is an open adoption."
"That's what you wanted," he stated.
"It's not," I contradicted. "It's what she wanted. She thought, and thinks, since it was an option, that when the question arises, I should not be a mystery. We should not be a mystery. They are fans of total honesty. They want to keep no secrets from their daughter."
"It seems harder this way. The idea of her and the reality . . . are two very different things."
"Yes. Harder indeed. As I've said, it's not what I wanted, but I didn't trust at the time, or even now, that what I wanted was what was best. I was wounded . . . am wounded, and I longed for the easy choice, but the fact is that there wasn't one. So I tried for the best choice, for her, her mother, and her mother I trusted to know what it was."
Gina taught me what angels were, and that maybe, just maybe, Gram was right about prayers, that no matter your sins, sometimes life sends you the answer you need.
Not the answer you want, perhaps, but need is the thing. The thing that matters most, no matter how it hurts.
EPILOGUE
SCARLETT
I dreaded going to visit my grandma, but I didn't put it off. Her time was limited, and I had enough regrets and guilt in my past that I'd learned not to add to it.
Everything had happened very fast. The Durant men had made their move, maneuvered the first chess piece, gone after Adelaide, and the rest of the moves had come fast and vicious.
Adelaide was arrested and charged for the murder of Vivian Durant. No bail was granted. It was a cold, cruel world when all of the Durant influence was suddenly being used against instead of for you. Her trial would be long and complicated, and no matter how it went, her reputation was forever in tatters.
It was going kind of beautifully. More stakes had been nailed into Adelaide's coffin within hours of her arrest. Three of her henchmen had been implicated and instantly turned on her. I ate up each piece of this news with absolute relish. Yum.
At nearly the same time, Glenda turned herself in preemptively, confessing her rehearsed speech. Her spiffy, Durant paid for attorney brought her in and coached her through every word. She was charged and booked.
Even her more expensive than God lawyer was surprised when she was granted bail.
It was for a million dollars, but that was small change in the world of Durant schemes.
All of this made it possible for me to visit her in her new and sumptuously appointed apartment.
She greeted me at the door solemnly and I don't think either of us knew what to do. We'd never hugged, so that didn't seem right, but it felt like we should do something.
We settled for nodding at each other and then she showed me around her new house.
