Wary but cautiously pleased, I gave him my best smile. One that would be given an encore and a standing ovation, unlike his own. “That will be lovely.”

Thus, my walk took me through the woods with the three Frankensteins I had never had any use for. And…it was not awful. Judge Frankenstein was mostly silent, save to remark on the qualities of this tree, or the stately nature of that rock, or the general uselessness of that flower.

Ernest, ever aware of his father’s presence, worked hard to walk with as much decorum and maturity as he could. But even he was unable to resist the warm spell of the glorious spring day. Soon he was chasing William, eliciting shrieking giggles and demands for vigorous play.

I laughed, watching them. There was something to be said for children after all. There was a deeply restoring and restful happiness watching a creature like William discover the world. He was all curiosity and joy. There was no fear or anxiety in him. Had I ever been that way? I did not think so.

Madame Frankenstein would have been proud of how well I had done in settling their family. Ernest and William had grown up safe. Victor had been ushered past his difficulties. I had even found a replacement mother far more suited to the task of raising William and Ernest than I ever would have been.

I could take pride and satisfaction in this life. I would take pride and satisfaction in it. I was determined to. I let the bright sun and brighter laughter warm me. I would finally release all the strain and fear I had worn like a shawl.

We found a pretty meadow near where the forest gave way to our closest neighboring farm and set up the picnic. After eating, I pulled out a book, and Judge Frankenstein lay down on the ground and closed his eyes for a nap. It was a shockingly vulnerable and casual position for him to adopt.

And it was aggravating. If he had not been there, I could have done the same. But I did not have the luxury of relaxation in public. At least I had a book. I shooed the boys away, instructing them to meet us again before the sun got too low.

As afternoon dipped toward evening and I worried over what I would do to entertain William the next day, Ernest came back. He was sweating and out of breath, his face hopeful and then falling as he swept his eyes over our little picnic site.

“William is not here?” he asked.

I closed my book and stood in alarm. Judge Frankenstein, who had woken a few minutes before, also stood. “What do you mean? He was with you.”