There was a long silence in the room, I’d say a very long silence, and then I said, “Mama acted as if she already knew Layla and she said she was going to be a very special child and that she should wear this necklace. I don’t know, honey, it was all too weird for me, and then she sang this prayer in French.”

“What prayer?” Maggie asked.

“The prayer of St. Francis,” I said.

I looked into Maggie’s eyes as they filled with tears, long slow tears welling and falling down her cheeks as she said, “That’s the same prayer my grandma always sang to me when I was a little girl.”

I placed the feather and the pendant in Maggie’s hand and held the other with both of my hands.

Tears came, lots of tears. We both knew what a special night this was, but neither of us could possibly know that this night was the first of many miraculous nights and days yet to come.

* * *