“Then perhaps the photograph can stay, and we can make room for other things.”
Jonah looked at her for a long moment.
“That seems fair.”
The next day, he built the shelf.
He made it from pine, sanded the edges, and fixed it to the wall beside the window. The work took most of the afternoon, and he emerged from the room with sawdust on his sleeves and a small cut across one knuckle.
Ruth examined the shelf.
“It is beautiful.”
“It’s a shelf.”
“It is a beautiful shelf.”
He looked pleased, though he tried to hide it.
Together they moved her books upstairs. Clara helped by carrying one volume at a time, though she insisted on opening each book and asking what it was about. Ruth placed her small collection of poetry and novels on the shelf, along with a dictionary, a book of botanical illustrations, and a worn copy of Little Women.
Then Jonah helped her hang the blue curtains.
When they finished, the bedroom looked different without losing its history. Anne’s photograph remained on the table, but Ruth’s books stood on the new shelf, and the blue curtains softened the evening light.
Ruth stood in the center of the room.
“I think I can belong here,” she said.
Jonah came up beside her.
“You always belonged here.”
She turned toward him.
“Not before I arrived.”
He smiled.
“No. But perhaps the house was waiting.”
She rested her hand against his chest.
“Do you believe that?”
“I do now.”
Clara’s adjustment was more complicated than either adult expected.
At first she followed Ruth everywhere, delighted by the novelty of having a woman in the house. She wanted Ruth to braid her hair, help with her spelling, mend her doll’s dress, and tell stories before bed.
But as the weeks passed, the child began to test the boundaries of the new arrangement.
One morning she refused to eat the porridge Ruth had prepared, declaring that her mother had made it differently. Another day she burst into tears when Ruth suggested washing her hair before church. She became possessive of Jonah’s attention, demanding that he read to her at night and refusing to let Ruth tuck her in.
Ruth understood that Clara was frightened, but understanding did not make every moment easy.
One evening, after Clara had pushed away her supper and announced that Ruth was not her mother, Jonah found his wife standing alone in the pantry.
Her eyes were red.
“She said I was trying to take her mother’s place,” Ruth whispered.
Jonah’s face tightened.
“She doesn’t mean it.”
“She may mean it tonight.”
“She’s only a child.”
“I know.”
He reached for her, but she stepped back.
“I don’t want you to scold her for it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“I know you want to protect me. But she has lost someone, and I am the stranger who came into her house wearing a wedding dress.”
Jonah looked at her with concern.
“You are not a stranger anymore.”