She giggled, "Did Mandy Uncle tell you?"
"Yeah, but he doesn't know your full name!"
"My name is Laura! Stretch out your hand, I'll write it for you!"
Capone spread his palm out, and the little girl's chubby white fingers carefully wrote in his hand, one stroke at a time.
She was only three years old, and the words she could write were very limited. Her name was the only thing she could write well and with confidence.
Capone felt the slight tickling sensation as she wrote, each stroke tender and serious, yet it was deeply engraved in his heart.
Laura.
It was only when the baby finished writing that Capone realized.
He tightly closed his hand, the two childish characters now cradled in his palm.
There was a sense of emotion, a tremor, and even more so, a longing to embrace Sophia and this little one.
She might not have forgiven him yet, but she certainly hadn't forgotten him.