Chapter 13 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO CHOSE HIS NAME
Sophie began calling Dante by his first name.
Not because anyone instructed her to.
Because one afternoon she announced:
“Mr. Moretti is too many words.”
Dante laughed.
“What would you prefer?”
She considered.
“Dante.”
He smiled.
“That's fine.”
Their relationship developed slowly.
Dante never tried to replace Sophie's father.
Anna made sure Michael's photographs remained visible in their home.
She told Sophie stories about him.
Dante listened.
And when Sophie asked whether Dante could be her friend, he smiled.
“I'd like that.”
One evening, Sophie brought a drawing to dinner.
It showed three people standing beneath a rainbow.
Anna.
Sophie.
Dante.
Dante stared.
“Who's that?”
Sophie pointed.
“Me.”
Then Anna.
“Mommy.”
Then Dante.
“You.”
He smiled.
“What are we doing?”
Sophie grinned.
“Being happy.”
Dante's throat tightened.
Anna looked at him.
Her eyes were wet.
Later, after Sophie fell asleep, Dante and Anna sat on the porch.
The evening air was cool.
Anna looked toward the garden.
“She's attached to you.”
Dante nodded.
“I know.”
She turned.
“Please be careful with her heart.”
He looked at her.
“I will.”
Anna studied him.
“And mine?”
Dante took her hand.
“Especially yours.”
They kissed for the first time beneath the porch light.
Not dramatically.
May you like
Not desperately.
Just two people who had survived loss and were beginning to believe in something gentle.
