I can hear Mother telling me, “Sort out one’s duty first thing, Emma. Then you may seek out your diversions.” I can hear Father grunting in the corner with his repeated response, “Only if she’s wise enough to know which is which.” “Oh, Declan. You are content to raise a wild animal.” “Animal, no,” he replied one afternoon, glancing up at me with a wink. “But wild, always. My girl, I wouldn’t have you be any other way.”
