Page 92 of Because I Could Not Stop for Death

“Yes, when I first met you, you had just learned that your brother had been killed. You were broken and devastated, but not fragile. A fragile woman is one that cannot rise to the challenge before her. Even though you were clearly and rightly upset by what had transpired, there was a determination to your posture that I noted. I knew you were stronger than you appeared. I guessed that your mother gave you that.”

“I think many people think that because I am so tall and sturdily built,” I said.

“No, your appearance had nothing to do with my opinion of you. People’s physical appearances rarely do. And your brother, Henry, must have been the same way. Strong and determined.”

“He was even more so.”

She nodded. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet him.”

“I wish you had too,” I murmured.

“After this, let’s take Carlo for a walk uptown.”

I made a face. “Miss O’Brien—”

“I’ve already told Miss O’Brien my plans, Willa. You should know that by now.”

As she waltzed away, I considered my first impressions of Emily. I found her to have a wandering mind as if she was somewhere other than in the room with me. I had since learned at other times she was decidedly present and almost overly aware of everything going on around her. I wondered what it must be like to have that level of aloofness or that level of concentration. I said none of this to Emily, though, and I noted that she did not ask what my first impressions of her had been. Because in truth, I don’t believe that it was important to her. She was secure in what she believed of herself, whatever that might be. Her own opinion was the only one she truly required.

There was much I could learn from Emily Dickinson.

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