I laughed when my housekeeper's three-year-old daughter insisted she could make my paralyzed little girl walk again. Minutes later, my daughter moved her foot for the first time in years, and the tiny child revealed a secret about my late wife that shattered everything I thought I knew.

Three months later.

The Villa Falcone sat high on the dramatic limestone cliffs of Sorrento, overlooking the glittering blue expanse of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The air was thick with the scent of blooming lemon groves, wild rosemary, and sea salt.

The old stone villa had been completely restored. Terracotta tiles sparkled under the golden Italian sun, and wide open archways allowed the gentle sea breeze to flow through every room.

Down on the stone terrace overlooking the water, a long wooden table was set for dinner with fresh bread, olive oil, roasted vegetables, and pasta.

Sophia sat near the edge of the terrace, laughing as she chatted with our local Italian housekeeper, her hands busy shelling fresh peas into a ceramic bowl.

Out in the olive grove, Isabella and Emma were running between the ancient, gnarled trees, playing hide-and-seek with two local children from the nearby village. Isabella ran effortlessly, her feet sure and light against the warm earth, her hair blowing wildly in the coastal breeze.

I stood near the balcony railing, holding a glass of deep red wine, watching the golden sun begin its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson, pink, and violet.

A gentle rustle of wind stirred the leaves of the olive trees, sounding almost like a soft, familiar whisper.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the sleeping falcon locket. The emerald eyes caught the last rays of sunlight, sparkling like living fire.

I opened the small locket. Inside, beside a miniature photograph of Elena, lay a tiny lock of Isabella's hair from her first birthday.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it, Papa?"

I looked down. Isabella had walked up beside me, leaning her head against my hip, watching the sunset over the sea.

"It’s the most beautiful place on Earth, my love," I whispered, resting my hand on her head.

"Mama loved it here, right?"

"She loved it more than anywhere else," I smiled, looking out at the glittering water. "She’s right here with us, Isabella. Every time the wind blows through these trees, she’s right here."

Isabella smiled, slipping her small hand into mine. "I know. Emma said Mama visited her in a dream again last night."

I chuckled softly. "Oh yeah? What did Mama say?"