Tom held her.
For the first time in six years, the grief inside him had somewhere to go.
He buried his face against her hair and wept.
Not quietly.
Not carefully.
The way a man weeps when he discovers the dead have returned something he believed lost forever.
His wife was gone. But their little star had lived.
Nora turned away, unable to watch without breaking.
After a long while Lily whispered, “You’re squeezing me.”
Tom released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
She touched his cheek.
“Your face is wet.”
“Snow.”
Lily looked toward the door.
“There’s no snow on your face.”
“Go to bed.”
She grinned.
Tom tucked her beneath the quilt.
When she finally slept again, he remained beside her.
Nora waited.
Eventually he spoke.
“I went to the barn.”
She nodded.
“I climbed into the loft.”
Nora knew what was there.
Tom looked toward the new cradle beside the fire.
“The old cradle is still up there.”
He rubbed his face.
“I carved a star into that one too.”
Nora’s breath caught.
“She told me.”
Tom looked up sharply.
“Evelyn?”
“Her last words were about the baby.”
Nora’s voice trembled.
“She said, ‘Tell Tom his little star lived.’”
Tom bowed his head.
The room filled with silence.
Then he asked, “Was she afraid?”
Nora could have softened the truth.
She chose not to.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Did she suffer?”
“A little.”
Tom closed his eyes.
“Was she alone?”
“No.”
Nora moved closer.
“I held her hand.”
His eyes opened.
“She knew her daughter was alive. She held Lily. She kissed her. And she knew someone was there.”
Something in Tom’s expression changed.
The anger did not disappear.
But it loosened.
“You stayed with her?”
“Until the end.”
“And then you raised my daughter.”
Nora looked down.
“Yes.”
“You saved her.”
“She saved me too.”
Tom studied her for a long time.
“I am still angry.”
“I know.”
“I may be angry tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
He looked toward Lily.
“But I know something else.”
Nora waited.
“If you hadn’t been there, she would have died.”
Nora’s throat tightened.
“If you hadn’t loved her, I might have found my daughter only to learn she’d been buried beside her mother.”
“Tom…”
He stood.
Nora prepared herself for whatever came next.
“You were wrong to hide her from me.”
“Yes.”
“But you are not ‘no one.’”
Nora’s eyes filled.
Tom stepped closer.
“You are her mother.”
She stared at him.
“I don’t care what any courthouse says.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“You are the woman who stayed.”
Tom’s voice roughened.
“You are the reason my daughter knows how to laugh.”
Nora covered her mouth.
“And I will never take her away from you.”
The words struck the deepest fear inside her and broke it open.
Nora began to cry.
Tom hesitated.
Then pulled her into his arms.
For a long time neither spoke.
When Nora finally looked up, she whispered, “Your proposal…”
Tom’s jaw tightened slightly.
“You haven’t answered it.”
“I thought it was gone.”
“So did I.”
A small, sad smile touched his mouth.
