Free Destiny's Daughter by Ruth Ryan Langan

back, allowing Annalisa to pass her. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she heard the door close softly behind her.
    Moving quickly across the room, Annalisa stared at the small figure in the bed. Soft brown hair shot with gray had been twisted into one fat braid that fell across her shoulder. The face was a small pale oval, with high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted mouth. The hands resting atop the blanket were small, with long, tapered fingers.
    Perching on the edge of the bed, Annalisa took one of the hands in hers. Cold. Despite the heat of the day, they were so cold.
    Eyelids fluttered, then opened. The eyes staring into hers were cool, pale amber. It was like looking into a mirror. The effect was shocking.
    "Mother." Annalisa tried out the word, wondering how it would feel. It felt wonderful.
    "Annalisa." The lips parted in a smile. Tiny lines appeared at the corners of her eyes as the smile touched all her features, making them animated. "Oh, Annalisa. How beautiful you are."
    "Mama. Oh, Mama." As her arms opened wide, Annalisa fell into her embrace and buried her lips against her mother’s neck.
    "How terrible it’s been without you," the woman murmured, stroking the wild tangle of curls.
    "Then why did you . . . ?" Annalisa bit off the harsh question. It was too soon. Her mother was too weak. They would sort it all out later. Now it was enough to be here, to be holding each other. "I’ve missed you," she whispered, and felt her mother’s wrenching sobs. Stunned at the depth of feeling for this stranger who was her mother, she stroked the pale cheek and fumbled in her pocket for a lace handkerchief to wipe the tears. "Don’t cry, Mama. We’re together now. And nothing will ever separate us again."
    Her mother shuddered and choked back another sob that threatened. Reaching for Annalisa’s hand, she clung to it fiercely, all the while staring at the extraordinarily beautiful young woman who was watching her with such tenderness.
    "Were they good to you in the convent?"
    Annalisa glanced down at their hands intertwined on the pale spread. "Yes. But I missed my home terribly."
    "And we missed you. You were the sunshine, the laughter, the delight of our lives here."
    Annalisa bit her lip, refusing to ask the questions that had been building inside her all those long, lonely days and nights. How could a mother who claimed to love her child send her away? Why would she turn off the sunshine, the laughter, the love? Swallowing back the haunting questions, she said softly, "I met your doctor. He thinks you’re looking better today."
    Cool amber eyes appraised her daughter for a moment. Her voice was barely a sigh. "You don’t lie as well as you used to, Annalisa. I suppose that’s the good sisters’ influence on you."
    A flush stole across the young cheeks. "You have to get well. Mama. We have so much to learn about each other."
    Her mother’s lids fluttered, then blinked open. "I did the best I could, Annalisa. I hope it was enough." Then her lids closed again, casting dark shadows on pale cheeks. With her eyes closed, she whispered, "I have no right to ask for more. My prayers have already been answered. My beautiful daughter has grown up to be a fine lady. And I was given the chance to see her again before I die."
    "Stop that, Mama. You’re not going to die," Annalisa interrupted.
    "But I do need to ask you ..." Sara began.
    "Anything," Annalisa responded before she could finish. At last she would have a chance to be Sara’s daughter.
    "These women, take care of—" Sara licked her dry lips. "My friends . . ."
    A long sigh escaped the lips that seemed to grow waxen as she watched her mother’s eyes close. Bringing a hand to her mother’s cheek, she felt the pasty flesh. Cool. Too cool. There seemed to be no warmth, no life in her. She watched the uneven rise and fall of her mother’s chest. Breathe, she prayed. Breathe for me. Live, she willed. Live so that we can know each other, and make up for all the