I stare at her, mute.

A second later Mrs. Lewis abruptly stands. “I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll leave now.”

I rise, too, my mouth still unable to form words as I follow the woman to the front door.

“Thank you for bringing the hair ribbons,” I say woodenly as I open the door. I, too, am wishing Mrs. Lewis hadn’t come.

We stand in silence for a moment, and then Mrs. Lewis reaches out to touch my arm.

“I’m sorry if I’ve said too much, but you seem like a good person, and the child . . . It’s not right that she’s not speaking and that he does nothing about it. It’s kept me up at night thinking about it, but I’m truly sorry if I should have said nothing.”

I swallow hard against the knot of alarm that’s taken hold of me. Mrs. Lewis is mistaken. Martin is just sad and flattened by his grief. He bought this lovely home for Kat and me to live in. He is good to us both in so many other ways. Mrs. Lewis is mistaken.

I clear my throat. “My husband and I believe the best thing to do for Kat is to let her recover from losing her mother without harsh expectations, Mrs. Lewis. She is in fact getting better every day, I assure you. And perhaps Martin did not realize Kat is too young to be left alone like that. But then you helped him see that it wasn’t wise, and that is why he sent for me. And I’m sure as Kat matures I will be able to help her understand consumption isn’t brought on by having to take care of a child.”

Even as I say these things, it all seems to make sense.

“He’s a caring father and a good husband,” I continue. “He, too, is still recovering from the loss of his first wife. And you don’t know all of the other heartaches he has suffered in his life.”

Mrs. Lewis regards me for a moment. “Of course,” she says, but I can tell she is not convinced. “Might I say good-bye to the child?”

It is on my tongue to tell the woman no, but that will only reinforce her strange notions. For both of us.

“Certainly.”

We make our way through the kitchen to the back patio, where Kat is dutifully sprinkling water from a metal can onto the flower beds. She looks up at me.

“Mrs. Lewis is headed home. Come thank her for coming and bringing the ribbons.”

The child sets down the can and walks over to Mrs. Lewis and blinks at her with beautiful eyes that are so like Martin’s. So very much like Martin’s.

Mrs. Lewis bends down to look at her at the level of those eyes. “I’m glad that you have this pretty house to live in and a new dear mama to care for you.” She strokes the child’s cheek and Kat does not flinch, but nor does she reach out to embrace the woman who had cared for her before I came, when Martin had been on the road. “You be a good girl, now, and mind your new mama, all right?”