Organized chaos, she thought, as Alethea escorted a now anxious looking Stella toward the gate. The introductions went quickly, with Stella embraced by her new family. Was there anything more wondrous? The fragment of unease faded and she breathed easier. The anticipation of their arrival had kept her buzzing in the kitchen for days; she’d baked until the oven wept and gathered enough vegetables to feed a dozen Costas families. Tonight’s feast would be held on the patio, beneath the fairy-lit pergola Xander had recently rebuilt with Kendall’s help.
The front passenger door of the SUV opened and Calliope recognized Xander’s brother Antony. He removed a wheelchair from the back and opened it for who must be his father.
“He still looks so frail,” Xander murmured. Calliope leaned into him as he held her close. “I know Mom said he was doing better but—” He trailed off.
“He’ll never be the man he was before the stroke, Xander.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “But he’s here. For you.”
“Doesn’t mean I stop hoping, right?” He looked up at the sky. “Couldn’t have asked for better weather.”
“I ordered it special.” She’d known, of course, that a future with Xander would mean one with his family as well. She hadn’t expected that relationship to begin almost immediately after Xander’s return at Christmas with video chats, phone calls and unending text message streams that threatened to short-circuit her cell phone.
Over the past few months, she’d become a sort of confidante to his sisters and mother, who, only a few days ago, had been concerned about a potential setback for Cyril. But he’d rallied and declared nothing was going to stop him from making this visit.
“Hey, Mom.” Xander grinned at his mother as she hurried over to the porch, bypassed Xander and went straight for Calliope. “Ah, right. Mom, Calliope. Calliope...”
Calliope gasped at the power of his mother’s loving embrace.
“Another daughter,” Helen exclaimed. “I’m so happy. The greatest gift my son could have given me.” She attempted to pull away, but Calliope clung to her, unable to stop the sob that erupted.
“Aw, Mom, look what you did.” Xander tried to pry them apart but both his mother and Calliope pushed him away.
“There now,” Helen whispered as she gently rocked her. “Everything’s okay, now. I’ve got you.”
There was no guilt, Calliope realized with a bit of surprise. No worry that she was somehow betraying the mother who hadn’t been able to be one to her.
Emmaline.
The sadness didn’t descend as fast, nor as hard as it once did. Emmaline was at peace now, having passed away in her sleep just after the New Year. The night before, Stella was able to talk to her through the owls that had visited her in her dreams.
The owls had become hers, Stella declared that next morning, and from that day became their caretaker and guardian.
“I’m sorry.” Calliope sniffed and finally stepped out of Helen’s arms.
“For what?” She touched her hand to Calliope’s face and smiled as only a patient, loving mother could. “Xander.” Helen turned to her son and squeezed the daylights out of him. “I’m sorry we’re a little late. Your father’s having one of his stubborn days.”
“He’s entitled.” Calliope headed over to the group and, after introducing herself in person to Xander’s siblings, focused all her attention on Cyril. “It’s lovely to meet you, finally.” She bent down and clasped his hands between hers. “You have a wonderful son.”
“Beautiful Calliope.” Cyril beamed and held her hand.
“He’s been practicing saying that for weeks,” Dyna said. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you in person, Calliope.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Calliope caught an exchange between Helen and Xander, with Stella joining them on the porch. Stella let out a barely constrained squeal before jumping up and down, clutching Xander’s arm like a life preserver.
“Hmm, I bet they’re up to something,” she said to Cyril who tapped a finger against his nose to tell her she was correct. “Shall we go see what?”