Amala drifted in and out of sleep, assaulted with crazy, disjointed dreams that she couldn’t quite recall except that they’d been riddled with anxiety. She woke up with a firm resolve to press forward in her life with courage and dignity and to find ways to be useful and positive and make her life worthy of all she’d been blessed with. But it quickly became evident that her family was not in agreement with her view on the matter she’d broached at the supper table. There were tears and strong discussion at breakfast, which continued when they all retired to the drawing room afterward to continue the drama. Kat and Viola were practically inconsolable, while Oliver just looked as if someone he cared for had died. Amala wondered how it had come to this. Had they truly been so oblivious to the way other people regarded Amala—or rather disregarded her? Did they believe that their own acceptance and unconditional love toward her all these years had somehow magically changed the way the community viewed her? Perhaps they did, but she couldn’t fault them for that. She did feel accepted and loved. But she wondered now if she should have been more forthright about the things people had said to her when no one in her family was nearby, or the way she had been looked at and whispered about. She realized now that only Everett knew the whole truth—or at least more of it than anyone but herself.

Amala shared her realizations and admitted—both to herself and aloud—that this was not a new idea for her; she’d been considering the matter very seriously for many months, and perhaps longer. And she needed to give her loved ones a chance to catch up to her thinking, to realize the truth in what she was saying and accept it. They were grieving; the life they had expected her to be able to live would not come to pass. She had to allow them the time and opportunity to experience sorrow over that if they needed to. But when she heard them saying the same things over and over, expressing the same astonishment and sadness again and again, she finally had to say, “I know this is difficult, and it will take time for you to come to terms with it. I understand. I only ask that you not make any further implications to me or to those around us that my circumstances are different than they obviously are.” She sighed loudly and stood. “I need to be alone. I’ll see you at supper.”

“Not lunch?” Viola asked and sniffled.

Amala glanced at the clock, seeing that lunchtime wasn’t far off, given the amount of time this little family meeting had taken. Unable to bear this drama any further until things settled down a bit, she simply said, “I’m very tired. I think I’ll take lunch in my room.”