“Why?” she asks. “After your dad was gone and you were in charge of your life, why didn’t you ever smile at me, or say something nice or tell me…” She fades off and her cheeks turn pink.

We’re near the river and the stone footbridge. She stops and picks a dangling leaf from a nearby maple tree and tosses it into the river. The leaf floats on top of the swirling water and is carried downstream under the bridge. I watch until it’s out of sight around the bend.

“Did you ever notice that people stay in situations that are uncomfortable or intolerable? They stay and don’t try to leave or change. Do you ever wonder why?” I ask.

We move to the grassy edge of the sloping riverbank. The grass curls over into the water and the sun shines golden on the rippling water. A cool breeze comes off the shallow sun-dappled river.

Jessie sighs. “It seems safer to stay with what you know than leave and risk something worse. It’s why I never yelled at my dad or demanded that he talk to me. Because what if he said something I didn’t want to hear? Like he didn’t want me. Or didn’t love me. Silence, as horrible as it was, was better than risking what I was afraid he might say.”

I look over at her downturned face. The sun and shadow play over her bare shoulders and the white lace of her dress. I reach over and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re loved,” I say.

She looks up with wide, shocked eyes.

I smile ruefully. "Look around this town. People light up when they see you coming. The kids love your library story time. The seniors at the retirement home love your visits and book bundles. I’ve had a dozen people stop me and tell me how you brought them books when they were sick and housebound, or helped with their résumé, or helped them learn to do a dozen different things. Half this town is in love with you.”

She laughs and brushes my words aside.

We’re silent for a moment, watching the river pass. Her hand dangles next to mine and I ache to reach out and grab it.

“You know why I never smiled at you, never tried to change?”

She looks at me. “Why?”

“At first I wanted to protect you. Then I wanted to protect myself. I knew how you felt about me. Over the years we made a pattern of how we interacted and the roles we played. I didn’t know how to stop. It felt better to be in an intolerable situation with you than in any situation without.”

A small wrinkle forms between her eyebrows.

“Will…” She reaches out to put her hand on my arm.

“I was afraid that if I tried to change things, that you’d…”