She opened the door so he could see she had packed some, one of her frocks in the trunk with half hanging there. She sat down slowly, didn't speak, couldn't. But then she got up and took the frock to fold it. She gave a shaky breath. Then she looked at him and down at the silk she wore, hair perectly coiffed. It felt wrong to her, alien.

She swallowed audibly, then finally spoke. "I am sorry I disobeyed you. Mister Zimmerman already bid me to. He said to leave the frocks, but I can't find it in me to leave them." She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes, tilting her head a little. "I'll miss you terribly. You are my family in my heart. You taught me so much. My child is going to learn to depend on themself... the thought occured because the baby kicked while I was staring at it, my frock in my hands."

Then she added, "I heard you come home. I am not asking... but I am here if you wish to discuss it." She wiped her face with a wet cloth from her ewer. Her room had been turned into a haven. She had started a patchwork quilt and a knitted blanket for the baby as well as half done booties, little gowns and nappies, the basket of mending next to an old chair given to her.