Sometimes, late at night, I sit on the front porch with a warm cup of tea, listening to the quiet rustle of the wind through the Ohio trees.
My husband’s siblings no longer speak to us, bitter over the fortune they lost. But I feel no regret, nor do I harbor any anger.
Fiona had been right all along. God, and a loving mother-in-law, had indeed looked at me differently—not because I asked for a reward, but because true love is proven not in grand declarations, but in the quiet, faithful care we give when no one else is watching.
