The baby girl was named Josephine.  Jacob had raged when one of the midwives finally gathered enough courage to go into the hall to tell him it was a girl.  He didn’t come in to see his daughter or wife.  As long as the baby was in the room, Jacob slept elsewhere.  Then one day, Jacob appeared.

“I’m going west,” he announced with no decorum.  “I’m going to start a gold mine.”

Carrie’s jaw dropped.  She tried to formulate words, but nothing seemed to come.

“I’ll send for you when I’ve made enough to get us a nice house.  We can start our family there.”

That got a response out of Carrie.  “We started our family here.  We have a daughter.  Her name is Josephine.  And you’re just going to leave us?”

Jacob shook his head.  “I’m leaving to take better care of you.  If you want to bring the girl, that’s fine, but it will take more time to save up enough for both of you.  The choice is yours.”

“The ‘girl’ is my daughter, so she is absolutely coming with me wherever I go.  And as your wife and daughter, we should go wherever you go.”

The argument was loud and fierce.  It was the most Carrie had ever stood up to Jacob, and I was both proud of her and terrified for her at the same time.  In the end, Jacob did slap her and left her huddled on the ground. 

I would not see Jacob again, though Carrie did get a few letters from him over the years.  If Josephine was not in the room, she would read out loud, probably to help her process what she was reading.  He never did strike it rich.  The last letter she received was not from him, but from someone who knew him, stating he had been killed in a mining accident. 

For Josephine’s part, she managed to grow into a graceful young lady.  As a child, she smiled and danced her way through the house.  She made it her job to try to pin a smile on her mother’s face.  Carrie’s smiles were quick and abundant for her daughter, but never lasting.

The lack of a father figure made Josephine shy and timid.  She rarely slept in her own room, but would snuggle under the warmth of her mother’s sheets.  Carrie often paced the floor while her daughter slept, wondering how to make ends meet, how to keep moving forward, but she fought valiantly, and her daughter never knew of the struggles to put food on the table.

Josephine was never clothed with the most beautiful garments – I only know because she sometimes lamented them to me as she stared into my glass while her mother was away – but she managed to keep a cheerful countenance and a beautiful smile.  From what I had seen over the generations, that mattered more than stylish clothes!

As Josephine neared adulthood, I began to detect a slight glean in her eye.  There was a sparkle I hadn’t seen since my dear Elizabeth.  She finally confided to her mother one night:

“Mother, I think I am in love.”

Carrie froze on the spot, staring at her daughter.  “In love?  With whom?”

Josephine smiled.  “William Densmore.”

“William Densmore?  Why, he’s nothing more than a factory worker!”

Josephine’s smile wavered.  “He makes an honest living, Mother.  And he’s getting by better than we are.”

“Doesn’t he still live with his parents?”

“Yes, to save money.  But he’s able to move out and sustain himself – and a family – at any moment.”

“A family?  Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Josephine’s jaw dropped and her eyes got hard.  “Mother!  No!  I love William, and he loves me, but we are respectable people and will live by the Commandment of our Lord!”

I doubt Josephine saw it – surely she would not have understood it even if she did – but I saw Carrie’s eyes cloud for a moment.  Only a mother’s strength could have removed the cloud so quickly.

“Of course, dear, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, I have just heard so many stories of other girls.  You’re still so young and impressionable, I was just concerned for a moment.  But of course, I trust you.

“However,” Carrie continued, “if something unorthodox were to happen, please know that I will always love you, no matter what.”

Josephine softened and smiled again.  “Thank you, Mother.  And I love you!”

The two women – one more of a girl, at the tender age of sixteen – embraced.

Before Josephine turned seventeen, she was married to William.  I watched Carrie write a note to the county clerk to give her consent for Josephine to marry so early.  I watched the tears fall as she wrote that her father had passed away and was unable to give his consent.  I imagined she was thinking about how little he would have cared anyway – or how angry he would have been for his daughter to be marrying a ‘common’ factory worker. 

I couldn’t hear the wedding ceremony, which took place in the large room below me.  I did, however, hear the party that happened afterward.  What joy shook through the house that had been full of gloom and despair for all these years!  What warmth Josephine had tried to infuse into the walls with her childish whims was now fully alive with William at her side.

After the celebration, Carrie pulled Josephine into their bedroom one last time.

“I want you to have this mirror,” Carrie said, pointing at me.  “I know how much you love it.  It’s one of the nicest things I have left that I haven’t had to sell, and I want you to have it.”

“Oh, thank you, Mother!”

They hugged again, and Josephine left to rejoin her bridegroom. 

Josephine and William came back for me a few days later, and I was once again in a house of laughter and joy.  They did not have much money, and they didn’t try to look like they had any, but their smiles and love were abundant. 

I felt at home again.