Another half an hour passed when the motionless Connie moved suddenly. She reached out, stroked Hilda's hair, and sighed. "My daughter."

Turning her head, she looked at her. Even now, she believed that Hilda was a gift from the heavens, a gift she obtained in exchange for all the happiness in her life.

Hilda leaned her head against her shoulder, then looked up at her and said cheekily, "Mom, can you tell me stories about dad?"

Upon hearing her request, Connie fell silent for a minute or so. She was organizing her words in her head, wanting to use the most beautiful words she knew to describe the love of...