This story is set in the same headcanon-space as my other stories about Alberto and his family. The Cole's Notes version is that Massimo's younger sister, Maria, ran off with a sea monster boy and they were Alberto's Mom and Dad, but she died when Alberto was less than two years old. Alberto deserves all the love and family in the world and so this story resulted. Dedicated to Writer652 and BewilderedGhost on tumblr.


Maria had her story prepared well before she reached the shore. She'd been telling it to herself all the way from the Island, and parts of it even counted as true: she and her boyfriend really had gone to Cannes and then all the way to the teeming metropolis of Margislia, him working as a diver and her getting odd jobs wherever she could find them. Then Alberto had come along, and the two had been forced to find a place to settle down for a while. That lifestyle, however, didn't suit them, and they'd soon found they were growing apart.

She wasn't going to admit to her brother that she'd finally just up and left, however – that would lead to a litany of I told you so that Maria couldn't bear to hear. Instead, she was going to tell people that Giancarlo had died by drowning. That would keep her brother from going to look for him, and there'd be no chance of anyone wondering if her mysterious boyfriend and the equally mysterious sea monster were somehow connected... because she certainly wasn't going to tell anyone that .

Maria brought the battered little boat into Portorosso's harbour at around noon. The sky was grey and gloomy that day, and the wind was chilly. It would probably rain later, and that could ruin everything. The baby had to stay dry, at least until they got indoors. If anybody saw that ... but Maria couldn't bear to finish that thought. She simply couldn't let it happen.

As the side of the boat bumped against the all-too-familiar stone quay below the Pescheria, Maria's little son was leaning heavily against her with the fingers of his left hand in his mouth, half-asleep. Every time she'd had seconds thoughts about running away, Maria had reminded herself that Alberto deserved better. She couldn't stay on that little Island with him and his father, away from the world. This child would need things Giancarlo was clearly unwilling to give him. Maria wasn't sure she was the right person to do so alone, either, but at least she was willing to try.

The dismal weather meant not many people were in the piazza to see her tie the little boat to the quay. Those who were outside were busy with their own tasks, and did not look interested in her. Maria pulled her threadbare shawl closer around herself and her child and climbed out, the damp stones freezing cold on her bare feet.

In her arms, Alberto whined about being disturbed, and pulled his fingers out of his mouth. They were damp from being sucked on, and were tipped with claws and purple scales. Maria quickly dried them on her shawl so they looked human again.

"There you go, Berto," she said, and kissed the top of his head. "Let's go meet Uncle Massimo."

Maria squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Even with a story prepared, she knew this wasn't going to be pretty. Massimo had thought Giancarlo was a fool and hadn't been shy of saying so. He was never going to let Maria forget that he'd been right about her boyfriend, and as Giancarlo himself had repeatedly reminded her, he was going to be livid that she'd run off. Maria was just going to have to brace herself and try to ride it out.

She climbed the steps to the door. On nice days the big wooden doors of the Pescheria would have been left open, to invite customers in. Today they were closed to keep the cold wind out, but there was a sign posted that said Benvenuti! La Pescheria è A perta ! Maria took the handle and opened the door – and there she stopped short.

It had used to be Maria's job to mind the shop during the day. With her having been away, she had fully expected to see Massimo himself behind the register, but he was not. Instead, there was a woman with thick, curly red hair, wrapping up fish for Signora Brignole from up the hill.

Of course, Maria realized belatedly. Massimo still had to do the fishing to keep the little shop stocked. Obviously he'd had to hire somebody to replace Maria after she ran off... but Maria had known what she was going to say to her brother. Confronted with this stranger, she didn't know where to start.

"I'll be with you in a moment!" the redhead sang out, handing the fish to her customer. Signora Brignole looked over her shoulder to see who had come in, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Maria?" the woman asked. "Maria Marcovaldo? Mamma mia ! Does Massimo know you're back?"

The red-haired woman looked up sharply, and stared at Maria for a moment, taking in her height, her build, her nose. "You're Maria?" she asked. "Massimo's sister?"

Maria opened her mouth, but nothing came out. All she could do was nod.

" Santa Mozzarella !" the woman said, astonished and delighted. She came out from behind the counter, moving at a slow waddle as she was heavily pregnant, and offered her hands. " Piacere ! I'm Helena – with an H, like the French spell it. I'm your sister-in-law!"

That shouldn't have been a shock, either. Massimo was four years older than Maria. If she were running off and getting married, he could, too. He would consider it his duty to continue the family. And yet... the idea that Massimo's life had just gone on without her left Maria feeling a little ill. Had he even missed her? Or had he not expected anything better of her than to run off with the boyfriend he thought was such a useless fool?

"And who's this?" Helena asked, looking at the baby in Maria's arms. Alberto gazed back at her with huge green eyes.

"Oh, what a handsome little man!" Signora Brignole gushed. She elbowed in to tickle Alberto under the chin, but he grabbed the offered finger before she could touch him, and stared up at her in turn. He'd never seen a stranger before, Maria realized. The only people Alberto had known in his short life were his parents – and that reminded her of why she was here.

She found her voice. "This is Alberto," she said.

"Hel lo , Alberto!" cooed Signora Brignole. "My goodness, what a big boy! How old are you?"

"He's eighteen months," said Maria.

"So nice to meet you!" the woman said.

Helena rolled her eyes. "Maria, why don't you come on upstairs? I'm sorry, Ottavia, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to close the shop for a few minutes."

"No, no, that's fine, I quite understand," Signora Brignole assured her. "You'll want to catch up, and I've already got what I needed. Oh, it's lovely to see you back, dear," she added to Maria, and kissed her cheek. "And you , little fellow! I look forward to seeing more of you !" She pried her finger out of Alberto's grip, and then finally bustled out. Helena shut the door behind her and locked it.

"She'll have told the entire town within half an hour," Maria groaned. She'd sort of wanted to come back quietly and, with the people in the piazza distracted by preparing for bad weather, it had seemed to be working. So much for that.

"I know," said Helena. "Come with me!"

She hustled Maria up to the kitchen, or at least came as close to hustling as her swollen abdomen would allow. Once upstairs, Maria set Alberto on the bench under the stairs, and would have made herself something to eat, but Helena gently took her by the shoulders and escorted her back to sit next to her son.

"I'll fix you something," she said. "You have a seat. You look like you've had an awful time."

"I do?" Maria asked. She didn't feel like she'd been through anything very horrible.

"You... you can't be very warm in those clothes," Helena said tactfully.

Maria looked down at herself, and realized Helena was right. Here she was, barefoot and dressed in rags, her hair probably looking very much like she'd cut it herself, and carrying a baby dressed in a cut-up adult's shirt. Maria probably looked like she'd spent the last couple of years homeless. The Lord knew what the local gossips were going to make of her.

It was sort of true, though. She and Giancarlo had never intended to stay on that Island for any real length of time. It was just a place they could come back to if they needed, and be pretty sure nobody would bother them there. Maria wondered what Giancarlo was doing right now. Had he returned from his errand yet? Was he angry or sad that Maria had left him? Or relieved that he wouldn't have to worry about providing for her and Alberto anymore?

Helena put the kettle on to make tea, and took a blanket out of a drawer to wrap around Alberto. The baby had never been swaddled up so tightly and didn't like it, squirming and whimpering until Maria took pity, unwrapped him, and set him on the floor. She pulled the blanket around her own shoulders, while Alberto got to his feet and began to toddle around the kitchen inspecting things.

"What did Massimo tell you about me?" Maria asked warily.

Helena glanced over her shoulder. "It wasn't anything bad," she said.

"No, that's not... I'm just curious."

The kettle began to whistle, and Helena took it off the heat and poured the water into the teapot. "He said you ran off with a boy he didn't like very much."

"Did he say why he didn't like him?" Maria wanted to know.

"He had all kinds of reasons," Helena said. "He said this man was a liar and a drunk and probably a thief, that he would never hold a job and couldn't provide for you. And then he'd get worried," she added. "He'd say he hoped you were all right, and that your husband was being kind to you, and he wondered if he'd ever see you again."

It sounded as if he hadn't mentioned sea monsters ... or maybe that Helena hadn't believed him if he had. That did make Maria feel a little better, though. Massim would be slightly less angry if he didn't know that the sea monster he'd been hunting was also the man who'd taken his sister away.

"What happened?" Helena wanted to know. "I mean, you're here, with your son, and this man isn't with you."

"He died," said Maria, and then wondered if the words had popped out too quickly. What if they didn't sound sincere?

"I'm sorry," said Helena.

"Thank you." Maria took a deep breath, and began telling the whole story. It would be good practice, and this woman ought to be able to give her some idea how Massimo would react. "We went to Cannes. He got a job as a driver, and I picked grapes. We were going to travel, but then Alberto came along and we couldn't."

"A child changes everything," Helena agreed, a hand on her belly.

"Giancarlo drowned. He was diving a wreck and he never came up." Maria lowered her head as if she were going to cry. She didn't cry easily, but she knew how to pretend. It was a good trick for any young woman.

"I'm sorry," Helena repeated. "He was trying to take care of you."

"I know," Maria said, but she found herself wanting to squirm. She hadn't expected to feel bad about the lie, mostly because she'd been expecting to tell it to Massimo . Maria would have lied to her brother to protect Giancarlo and Alberto, but now she also had to lie to everybody else, so that people couldn't compare stories and find discrepancies. Maria hadn't though of that. She was going to have to lie to the entire town and everybody else she met, for the rest of her life.

"Giancarlo," said Helena. "Massimo never mentioned his name, and I didn't ask. It seemed like he really didn't want to talk about it."

"He probably didn't," sighed Maria.

Helena put tea and sandwiches on the table, and then excused herself to use the washroom. While she was gone, Alberto toddled back over to his mother and grabbed her skirt. He pointed to the stairs Helena had just ascended, and babbled something that sounded like a question.

"She'll be back," Maria promised. "What do you think of your Auntie? Did you see her tummy? You're going to have a little cousin soon."

Maria wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or a bad one. It would be wonderful for Alberto to have a playmate. She'd been so worried to think of him growing up on that little island, never meet anyone but his mother and father. A playmate close to his own age would be good for him, but would they be able to keep his secret from this cousin, or any more that might come along? Helena would probably expect the children to play in the water or take baths together. Would Maria be able to come up with excuses why not? How old would Alberto have to be before he understood why there was a part of him they needed to hide? Was this really the good idea it had seemed?

While his mother was mulling this over, Alberto wandered off to explore again. She was brought out of her thoughts by a clang, as he found his way to a bucket in the corner of the kitchen and overturned it.

Maria had noticed this object, but hadn't paid it much attention. It was only now that she realized it was full of water and a pair of live lobsters. Seeing the splash, she dived to snatch her son out of the way, but was too late. Alberto squealed in delight as he got soaked and transformed, and the crustaceans made a mad dash for freedom across the wooden floor.

" Cavolo !" Maria exclaimed. She grabbed her son and looked around in a panic. This could not be happening already . What if Helena came back into the room? It might be worse if Massimo hadn't mentioned sea monsters, because then she would have no idea what this little scaly creature actually was . Maria put him on the blanket and wrapped him up, rubbing frantically to dry him.

"No, no, no!" she told him. "That's going to be rule number one for living in Portorosso: we don't get wet when there's people around!"

Alberto squirmed and wailed. He was always harder to hold onto in this form, with his slick scales and thrashing tail.

"We can't let Uncle Massimo and Auntie Helena see!" Maria insisted. She got his face dried off so that his human features re-emerged and curly hair sprouted where his fins had been. Deciding she'd have to be satisfied with that, she held the unhappy toddler under one arm while trying to catch the escaped lobsters with the other.

She had one back in the bucket and was reaching under the sink for the second, with Alberto still angrily protesting this treatment, when Helena returned. At once, Maria stood up, making sure the blanket was still tightly around her son. She didn't know if the rest of him had changed back, and didn't dare check. Helena came closer, and Maria clutched her struggling son protectively against her chest.

"What happened?" Helena asked. "I heard you shout, but I can't move fast."

"Nothing! Nothing," Maria said hurriedly. "I was distracted and he got into your lobsters."

"Oh, no!" Helena laughed and held out her arms. "I really can't bend down anymore. Can you grab the other one? I'll take Alberto."

Maria held Alberto tighter and took a step back.

"I can lift him," Helena assured her, assuming it was her pregnancy that made Maria balk.

"Let me just... rearrange things," Maria said. She moved Alberto from one arm to the other, pulling the blanket around him to hide his lower half until she could get a look at his feet without Helena seeing. Human – thank goodness! She handed blanket and baby to her sister-in-law.

Alberto was still mad about being wrapped up, but that faded as he realized to his astonishment that he was being held by a new person. He stared at Helena for a few moments, as if this were positively incomprehensible to him, and then reached for her red ringlets.

"Watch his hands. He likes to grab," said Maria, reaching under the sink for the second lobster.

"I'm sure he does," said Helena fondly. "Look at those little talons!"

Maria sat up sharply to check, narrowly missing banging her head on the edge of the sink. It wasn't possible, was it? She'd seen his names and they'd been human... as indeed they still were. Helena was holding Alberto's chubby fingers in one hand while supporting his bottom with her other arm, and laughing as he studied her shiny wedding ring. She was speaking purely metaphorically.

"There we go," said Maria, putting the second lobster back in the bucket. She added some water to keep their gills damp, but not too much – she didn't want to risk Alberto tipping it again. "I'll clean up the spill. Hang on to Alberto, please." The last thing she needed was to have gone through all that, only for Alberto to step in a puddle with somebody watching.

"Thank you," said Helena. "Those are a special order, and Massimo would be livid if he had to go find more of them the right size."

Maria shivered a little. Massimo rarely got really angry. He bottled it up because he didn't want to be like their father, who would shout and throw things and punch holes in the wall, especially after Mamma died and he started drinking. Giancarlo had used to make him angry, though. He considered it a challenge to tease Massimo almost to the breaking point, even as Maria begged him to stop. She wasn't looking forward to weathering that anger turned on herself.

With the puddle cleaned up, Maria put the mop away and took her son back, giving him a bounce in her arms. "How was that?" she asked him, as if nothing were wrong in the world. "Do you like Auntie Helena?"

Alberto yawned.

"We've turned your old room into a nursery for our baby," said Helena. "He can nap there if you like."

"I think that's a good idea," Maria agreed. "He's had a very exciting morning."

"I'll show you upstairs," Helena offered.

Maria shook her head. "I know where it is."

Helena laughed at herself. "Of course you do. Sorry."

Maria climbed the steep steps with Alberto still yawning in her arms. Here was a whole new set of problems, she thought. She'd figured she would come home and, once Massimo was finished being angry with her, it would be as if she'd never left – indeed, that was one of the things she'd been most afraid of. Her old life had been so boring , with not much scope for improving the situation, and she didn't want to be trapped in this same old house in Portorosso until the day she died. She still didn't want that, but she could put up with it, at least for a while, for Alberto's sake.

Now, however, there was this unforeseen complication: Massimo was married and his wife was expecting a child. This house was not big enough for two families. Once, before Maria had met Giancarlo, she and Massimo had talked about that. They'd agreed that whoever got married first could keep the house, and the other would have to move – but then Maria had run off with Giancarlo. They had definitely gotten married before Massimo and Helena had, but Maria was pretty sure that her leaving had voided whatever force that agreement might ever have had. The house was still too small, and it wouldn't be long before somebody had to leave.

Wherever Maria went, she would have to live alone. Anyone with her would be somebody she had to hide Alberto's transformations from. That would equally mean she couldn't remarry. She wouldn't be able to depend on anybody else to support her and her child. That was a deeply daunting prospect.

And on top of it all were Alberto's own needs. That was the thing that had given her the most doubts about this plan from the beginning. On the Island, at least his father was around. Here, he would be the only sea monster. Was that good for him? Did he need the company of his own kind, or things only they could give him? Maria had no idea, and nobody she could ask.

The little room where she had spent her childhood had been re-painted and re-furnished, although much of what was in it was familiar nevertheless. There were toys she recognized, and the heirloom cradle both she and Massimo had used as babies. Maria set Alberto in it, and covered him with a crocheted blanket. Alberto, accustomed to sleeping without such things, immediately kicked it off.

Maria sighed heavily and sat down in the rocking chair on the other side of the little room. There was just... so much , all at once. It wasn't as bad as she'd felt during the brief half-day when she thought Giancarlo had abandoned her on that Island with a newborn baby, but it was still overwhelming.

Then she looked at her son, now curled on his side sucking on his fingers again. His eyes were drifting shut. He at least felt safe... maybe just because Mamma was here, but for the moment, that was enough.

Maria let her own eyes close. She'd left very early, as soon as Giancarlo had gone, and she'd barely slept the previous night because she'd been worrying about all these things and a dozen others. Maybe she could take a little bit of a nap, as well.

She woke up hearing footsteps on the stairs, and Alberto whimpering.

"They were both sleeping last time I looked," said Helena softly.

"No, the baby is awake," said Massimo.

Maria's eyes flew open. There was her brother, following Helena into the room. He didn't look angry, but then, he didn't know Maria was awake. Alberto, however, was very much so, and standing up hanging on to the side of the cradle to get a better look at his visitors. Apparently he didn't like the look of them, because he sat down heavily on his bottom and began to cry loudly.

Maria quickly sat up, and paused to stretch her neck and shoulders. "I'm coming, Alberto," she said through a yawn. "I'm coming."

"I think he's wet," said Helena.

The word sent a jolt of lightning down Maria's spine. She leaped to her feet and dashed across the room to snatch Alberto up, wrapping him in the crocheted blanket. To her relief, his nappy had not leaked, and there was no sign of transformation.

She bounced him in her arms and tried to pretend nothing odd had just happened. "Did Mamma fall asleep and leave you all alone?" she asked, sounding annoyingly like Signora Brignole. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it right away!"

Maria looked up to see what her hosts thought of her behaviour, and then quickly looked away when she met Massimo's eyes. Here it came. She was going to hear about how foolish she was for running off with that vagrant, how selfish to leave Massimo to run the family business all by himself, and possibly how he was determined to spit that sea monster on a harpoon and hang it on the wall of the shop...

Massimo looked at her silently for a moment, then put his arm around her and the baby and pulled them both in for a hug. He held them there until Alberto, squashed between them, resumed his complaining. Then, with evident reluctance, he loosed his grip and allowed Maria to step back.

"Helena said your husband is dead," he said gravely.

"Yes," said Maria, and waited for him to call her out on it. A sea monster couldn't drown.

"I'm sorry."

Maria blinked. "You're... sorry ?"

"I'm sorry I drove you away," said Massimo.

"You didn't drive me away!" Maria protested, shocked. "I left !"

"You left because I didn't approve of him," Massimo said.

"I left because Giancarlo didn't want to stay here and neither did I!" she replied. "It had nothing to do with you. Now, I need to change the baby!"

"I can do it," Helena offered. "I need the practice."

"No, I'll do it myself," Maria said firmly. "Do you have extra nappies?"

Helena brought her one, and Maria thanked her and shooed the couple out of the room so she could clean Alberto up. She did this as quickly as possible, terrified they'd be back before she was ready, then scooped the boy up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"You're just fine," she told him. "Everything's going to be just fine."

She wasn't sure she believed that, but... Massimo wasn't angry? He thought she'd run off because of him ? Surely he realized whose son Alberto was. Maybe he just didn't want to get mad in front of his wife... maybe he wouldn't bother because he figured Maria wouldn't stay long.

"What are we going to do, Berto?" she asked.

The baby gurgled. Of course, he didn't know. He was counting on her . Maria sighed and straightened her back, and wet downstairs to the kitchen.

Massimo was standing at the stove, with pasta boiling, while Helena chopped potatoes on the counter next to him. Maria managed a nervous smile as she stepped off the last stair, her son still in her arms. "Can I help?" she asked.

"No, we're fine," said Helena. "You sit down."

Massimo stirred the pasta, then left it to bubble and seated himself on the bench, next to where Maria had settled. He offered his hand to Alberto, and the baby reached out and grabbed Massimo's index finger. The baby's eyes were the widest yet as he gazed at the giant shape of his uncle, but then he grinned with his tiny white teeth, and babbled something nonsensical.

"How old is he?" Massimo asked.

"A year and a half," said Maria, and again braced herself. Alberto's age would leave his father in little doubt.

"He has your eyes."

Maria nodded, closing them. Giancarlo had pointed that out more than once. "We'll be out of your hair before your child arrives," she promised.

"This is your home," said Massimo.

Maria opened her eyes again and frowned at him. "We agreed the house wasn't big enough for two families," she reminded her brother.

"We'll figure it out," said Massimo.

"You can stay as long as you need to," Helena added.

Maria looked from her brother to his wife and back again. This made no sense! For two years she'd been listening to Giancarlo talk about how furious Massimo would be if he ever saw them again, how he'd surely shout at Maria and probably skewer Giancarlo himself on sight... was he really not angry at all? How had she misunderstood him so badly?

"You aren't angry with me?" she asked cautiously.

"No," said Massimo.

He didn't seem to want to elaborate, so it was Helena who explained. "For a long time he was angry with himself . He thought it was his fault you left."

"It wasn't!" Maria protested. "It was my decision. Giancarlo asked me to go with him, and I went." Maybe on some level, she felt like she deserved to have her family angry with her.

"You thought that would make you happy," said Helena. "Maybe it was a mistake, but if so, you deserve a place to start over from."

"This is your home," Massimo repeated. "We won't turn you out of it."

"Our baby will have a cousin to play with," Helena added.

"You can help with the housekeeping and mind the shop while the baby is small," Massimo said.

"I don't want to be in the way," said Maria.

"If you really thought you'd be in the way, you wouldn't be here," said Helena. "You came to ask for help. We want to help you."

The pasta began to boil over, and Massimo got up to turn down the heat. "I am making your favourite," he told Maria. "Trenette al Pesto . With the pignoli."

For some reason, that was the breaking point, the thing that finally made real tears well up in Maria's eyes. She felt like the prodigal son from the parable – she'd expected to be told she'd run off and wasted part of her life, but instead she'd been met with kindness and gratitude. As the hot drops spilled over, she wondered if the son had cried over his father's welcome.

Alberto had seen his mother cry before, and had always found it distressing. He reached up to wipe at her tears the way she always did with his, and she took his little hand and quickly wiped the damp away with her shawl before it could start a transformation. "No, no, Berto, I'm not sad," she promised. "These are happy tears."

Massimo dished out the pasta, and they sat down to eat. Maria hadn't had Trenette al Pesto in ages. She'd tried to make it a couple of times, but it had never turned out the way it did at home, where the basil was fresh and there was a proper stove instead of a campfire. This tasted like her childhood. It brought back a hundred meals with their parents, feeding the cats under the table, being the baby of the family instead of having to care for one. The tears returned, and she had to swallow hard to get rid of them.

This time Alberto didn't notice because he, sitting in his mother's lap, was focused on the strange stuff on the plate in front of him. He grabbed a handful of noodles and, before Maria could stop him, stuffed it in his mouth.

"Alberto!" she exclaimed, her own mouth still full.

The baby squealed happily through his mouthful, pesto dribbling down his chin. Maria put her fork down and tried to push the dish away, but Alberto grabbed it and yanked it back, spilling the contents all over himself. With the pasta now in easy reach, he took more handfuls to eat.

"He has your taste in pasta, too," said Massimo, amused. He got up and prepared another plate for her.

Alberto covered himself with cheese and basil and smeared more on his mother's arms and skirt, giggling and kicking his fat little feet. At least some of the food did make it to his mouth and he evidently enjoyed it, so Maria decided to be happy with that. After clearing the dishes, Helena got up and wet a cloth in the sink, then approached.

"Let's get him cleaned up," she said.

"I'll do it!" Maria snatched the cloth from her and moved Alberto to the bench, where she could keep her body between her child and her family as she cleaned food off him. As soon as any scale popped up, or any hint of blue or purple appeared, she would dry the spot on her shawl. "There we go!" she said, lifting him again. "Not quite all clean, but probably as clean as you're going to get for now!" She turned and smiled at Massimo and Helena, hoping it looked sincerer. "Sorry, I'm just used to doing everything myself."

Massimo nodded once. "You don't have to anymore," he said.

He really wasn't angry, was he? Maria decided to take a chance. "I was wondering... did you ever catch that sea monster?"

"No." He sat down again. "I haven't seen it in years. Maybe I did imagine it after all."

Maria had to sit down again, herself. She was shocked. The angriest she'd ever seen Massimo was when she and Giancarlo had pretended to make fun of him for spotting a sea monster, hoping he wouldn't make the connection that he'd begun seeing it the same day Giancarlo arrived in town. The idea that he'd given up on hunting it was astonishing. Maybe... maybe everything really was going to be okay.

That night, Massimo and Helena made a bed for Maria on the floor of the nursery. She could have put Alberto back in the cradle, but after they'd walked in to look at him earlier, she preferred for him to sleep with her. Protecting him was going to be a constant challenge.

For the moment, however, he was safe, and so was she. Maria patted his small back and shut her eyes. For all her stress and worry, it was good to be home.