Other days, she cried without fully understanding why.
She loved Rose fiercely.
Yet she sometimes felt overwhelmed by the responsibility and the exhaustion.
Gabriel noticed.
One afternoon, he found her sitting beside the window with tears slipping down her cheeks.
Rose was sleeping.
The house was quiet.
Nothing appeared wrong.
Gabriel approached gently.
"Clara?"
She wiped her face.
"I'm fine."
He sat beside her.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then he asked, "Are you sure?"
Her expression crumpled.
She shook her head.
"No."
Gabriel took her hand.
She began crying.
"I love her."
He nodded.
"I know."
Clara swallowed.
"But I'm so tired."
He squeezed her fingers.
"I know."
She looked toward the cradle.
"I keep worrying I'm doing something wrong."
Gabriel leaned closer.
"You're learning."
She shook her head.
"What if I'm not good enough?"
The question struck him.
For a moment, he remembered asking Martha Bell whether he was holding Rose correctly.
He smiled faintly.
"Then I suppose we're both in trouble."
Clara looked toward him.
He continued.
"Because I don't know what I'm doing half the time either."
She laughed through tears.
Gabriel smiled.
"Yesterday I spent ten minutes trying to understand why she was crying."
Clara nodded.
"I remember."
He looked embarrassed.
"Turned out her blanket was folded beneath her leg."
Clara laughed harder.
Gabriel grinned.
Then he became serious.
"We don't have to know everything immediately."
She looked toward him.
He continued.
"We can ask Martha. We can rest when there's a chance. And we can admit when we're frightened."
Clara nodded slowly.
Gabriel squeezed her hand.
"You're not alone."
She leaned against his shoulder.
For several minutes, they sat quietly.
Then Rose began crying.
Gabriel sighed dramatically.
"There she is."
Clara laughed.
He stood.
Approached the cradle.
Then looked toward his daughter.
"Miss Morrow, your timing is remarkable."
Rose cried louder.
Gabriel nodded solemnly.
"Yes, yes. I understand."
Clara laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.
And for one brief moment, the exhaustion felt lighter.
Edmund's final proposal arrived in May.
By then, the snow had melted from most of the valley.
The grass was turning green.