“It shouldn't be.”
Her daughter looked up.
“Does it hurt your feelings?”
Lara considered the question.
“Sometimes.”
The child looked surprised.
“Even now?”
“Yes.”
“Even though Papa loves you?”
Lara smiled.
“Being loved doesn't mean nobody else's words can hurt.”
She brushed a strand of hair from her daughter's forehead.
“But it does help us remember those words aren't the whole truth.”
The little girl thought about that.
Then asked, “Were people mean to you when you were young?”
“Yes.”
“How mean?”
Lara looked toward the window.
Outside, Elias was leading a horse toward the barn.
She took a breath.
“Very mean sometimes.”
“Did you cry?”
“Yes.”
The child looked concerned.
“What made it better?”
Lara smiled.
“Learning that I didn't have to believe them.”
Her daughter leaned closer.
“And Papa?”
Lara laughed.
“Yes. Papa helped too.”
The little girl smiled.
“Papa says you're the prettiest woman in Dakota.”
Lara's eyes filled.
“He's very kind.”
“He says it's true.”
Lara hugged her daughter.
“Then perhaps we should let him keep believing it.”
That night, after the child was asleep, Lara told Elias about the conversation.
His expression darkened.
“Which boy?”
She laughed softly.
“Don't start a war with a seven-year-old.”
“He needs manners.”
“He does.”
“And his father needs—”
“Elias.”
He stopped.
She took his hand.
“Our daughter handled it.”
He sighed.
“I hate knowing she heard someone speak cruelly about you.”
Lara leaned against him.
“I know.”
He kissed her forehead.
“But she's growing up in a different home than I did.”
“How so?”
Lara smiled.
“She knows she can tell us anything.”
Elias looked toward the nursery, now transformed into a little girl's bedroom.
“Yes.”
“She knows kindness isn't weakness.”
“Yes.”
“And she knows nobody has the right to humiliate someone just because they're different.”
He nodded.
“That sounds like her mother.”
Lara rested her head against his shoulder.
“And her father.”
The following spring, a letter arrived from Boston.
It was from Thomas.
His handwriting had changed.
Once sharp and impatient, it now appeared slower and more deliberate.
He wrote that he had found steady work keeping accounts for a small shipping company.
He rented a room.
He lived modestly.
He no longer gambled on investments he did not understand.
He had repaid part of the money Lara lent him years earlier.
Enclosed was a small money order.
Lara stared at it.
Then unfolded the final page.
Thomas wrote that he had been thinking about their childhood.