"Adam would you go see to her?" My father looked to me. I placed my arm across the back of Charity's chair.

"I think she'd rather talk to you," I said. I wasn't sure of his reason for asking me but I was loathe to leave Charity alone at the table—I wouldn't be able to intervene and prevent her any embarrassment.

Then Charity spoke up. "It's all right, Adam. You should go talk to Mariette. I know how fond of each other you are." She looked at the faces of my family—even Hop Sing had come out at the kitchen at hearing the sobs and my father, standing and calling after Mariette.

"What wrong with Missy Mariette?" Hop Sing asked. His brows were drawn and he glanced at Charity who looked even more beautiful tonight than she had the night before. Apparently he had been informed about Charity as well—and why not? Why shouldn't they all know why Mariette detested Charity? When Hop Sing had served the food, he practically glowered at Charity. I had taken her hand and held it for a few moments until my father said grace.

Charity looked at me again. "You told me you two were close. Please go talk to her and then, I wish you'd take me back to town. I think I may be the problem."

"No, not you. Mariette's just been going through a bad time and perhaps seeing us happy reminded her of when…" But I knew it wasn't true and so did Charity; it wasn't a "just"—it wasn't that trivial. "All right, I'll go but as for taking you back so soon, well, we'll discuss that." I rose from the table, pushing back my chair, and on an impulse, I leaned down and kissed Charity. I expected it to be a quick kiss but her sweet mouth yielded to me and I kissed her fully, yearning to take her in my arms and kiss her until her lips were swollen and bruised. But I left for upstairs.

Standing outside her door, the room Mariette always had and that we still referred to as "Mariette's Room," I could hear her crying. I don't like to hear a woman or a child cry and I always feel the onus to solve the problem. And I had, over the years, solved so many of Mariette's problems but I didn't know about this one, about whether or not I would be able to solve it—or if I even wanted to. I realized that I was angry with Mariette, angry that she had influenced my family not to like Charity, not to see her as the woman she truly was. I also am honest enough with myself to consider that perhaps I saw Charity through the eyes of a man in love and that I saw virtues in her she didn't own—but I was in love-desperately.

I rapped on Mariette's door. She called out for me to go away but I knew she didn't mean it—and for all she knew, I could have been my father or Joe or Hoss—I had yet to say anything.

"Mariette, it's me. I think we should talk about this."

"I don't think…it's just that I keep thinking of her and…" She sobbed anew. "Your father said you're going to marry Mrs. Freestone and that I should accept it and try to get along as we'll be…sisters."

That surprised me. I had thought that my father would take Mariette's side against me but he had actually, at least according to Mariette, supported me and tried to convince her to forgive and move on. My father is a realist, always has been and knows to accept things that can't be changed. Now that I knew his attitude, I felt more confident. Charity would soon win over Joe and Hoss—she was beautiful and charming and it wouldn't be long before they would be at her beck and call. Why even Hop Sing would eventually come around once he knew Charity. But I still had to make peace with Mariette so I knocked again.

"Mariette, I'm coming in." I opened the door and she sat up on the bed where she had obviously lain and cried. She wiped the tears from her face with the napkin she still held. I squatted down before her the same way I used to when she was a child and was so small. It would put us on the same level then and I felt again how I did when she would come running to me, crying because she had hurt herself playing with Hoss and Joe and they had just brushed it off. I would hold her in my lap and stroke her hair until she stopped crying. Then I would swing her up and take her riding on my shoulders—that always made her laugh and together, we would intimidate the two ruffians. And many times Mariette would tell me about someone at school bullying her or the girl who had sneered "beggar-orphan." I always helped Mariette in those situations—sometimes with advice and sometimes with my presence. "Now, I know how you feel about Charity but, Mariette, you're wrong."

"Oh, Adam, can't you see that woman for what she is? An adventuress, a man-eater. She destroyed Jason and now she's on her way to destroying you. Why are men such a fool for a pretty face?"

"Now, Mariette, many a young man has been a fool over your lovely face—including me. Couldn't you always wrap me—actually, any of us—around your little finger with just a smile?" I grinned up at her and was rewarded with a smile breaking out over her face.

"Oh, Adam. I do love you and that's why I…why I had to leave the table. To see the way you look at that woman…"

Again, "that woman," but I said nothing.

"I just wonder if Jason looked at her the same way. Oh, Adam…" Mariette began to cry again. "Sometimes I don't think I can go on—I just want to end it—end the pain."

I wasn't sure what Mariette meant but the intimation that she may harm herself sent my heart pounding. She had always tended to be overdramatic; when she was young and would come to tell me of some horrid circumstance, her eyes would get big and she would dramatize everything. But I wasn't sure if she was just trying to make the situation of Charity sitting downstairs at our table more consequential than it was. Nevertheless, I rose and sat beside Mariette on the bed. She fell into my arms and sobbed as if her heart was broken beyond repair. I had observed grief before-my father's grief at the loss of both Marie and Inger, Joe's complete and paralyzing grief at losing Amy Bishop in a horrible accident. Hoss had almost been destroyed by the inevitable early death from consumption of Emily Pennington but I myself, although I'd faced sadness at the death of someone I cared for, had never experienced losing someone I loved more than my life.

And here was Mariette who lost a husband who had meant all to her and although I tried to understand her losing the desire to face the next day, I couldn't. "Mariette," I murmured as I held her, "life is full of wonder and although Jason is gone, he's not really. He's still in all our hearts, especially yours, and he lives in your thoughts and I expect that soon, you'll be able to think about him and the things he used to do and you'll smile. He wouldn't want you this unhappy."

Mariette sat up and wiped her eyes again. I still had my arm around her and bent my head to look into her face. I was again rewarded with a shy smile.

"Now come back downstairs and finish your meal."

"No, Adam. I….I behaved like a fool and all this crying has given me a headache. I think I'll just change for bed and put a cool cloth on my forehead. I'll be all right." She smiled at me again and then kissed my cheek. "You go and enjoy your evening. Give my apologies to your family…and Mrs. Freestone."

I almost told Mariette to call her "Charity" but since she hadn't referred to Charity as "that woman," I left well-enough alone.