Chapter 5 - A Different Kind of Worth
In the aftermath of the storm, the tension in the house began to thaw, though the frost hadn't entirely melted. Toby stayed in his room, but the next morning, he left a small bucket of water by the kitchen door for the garden—a silent, awkward peace offering.
Eliza spent the afternoon at the table, writing a letter. She wasn't writing to her father; she was writing to the clerk in Red Hollow. She wanted to know if there were any records of her mother, who had died before she could ever tell Eliza the truth about her own past.
She realized that the reason she felt so broken was that she had spent her life trying to live up to someone else’s definition of a woman. She wasn't just a "barren wife." She was a survivor.
Caleb watched her from the doorway. He didn't ask what she was writing. He simply placed a cup of coffee in front of her. "The children are starting to bloom again, Eliza," he said. "They’re asking for stories. Not about their mother, but about you."
May you like
"I don't have many stories, Caleb," she said.
"Then it’s time you made some," he replied.
