"But if I hear one more word of gossip, if I hear anyone speaking ill of my wife or frightening my children—" He let the threat hang in the air, unfinished but unmistakable. He climbed down from the wagon, helped Kelly up, and gathered the children in the back. As they prepared to leave, Reverend Clayton approached one more time.
"Mr. Callahan, Mrs. Callahan, may I offer you some advice?" "Of course, Reverend," Kelly said. "Don't try to live here. In town, I mean."
"The gossip will be relentless, and your children will hear things no child should hear. Keep the farm as your home. Let time and your actions prove your critics wrong. In a year, maybe two, when people see how happy you are, how well the children are thriving, this will all be forgotten."
"What if it's not forgotten?" Kelly asked quietly. "Then you'll have each other, and that will be enough." Clayton smiled. "I've married a lot of couples in my years as a minister."
"Some marry for love, some for convenience, some for desperation. But every now and then I marry two people who are clearly meant to find each other, who make each other better than they were alone. You two are that kind of couple. Don't let small-minded people rob you of that gift."
"Thank you, Reverend," Bo said, shaking the minister's hand. "For everything." "Just be happy. That's all the thanks I need." They rode out of town in silence.
The children were subdued now, the excitement of the wedding dampened by the ugliness they'd witnessed. Kelly sat beside Bo, her hand clasped tightly in his, baby James sleeping against her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quietly after they'd put some distance between themselves and town. "I'm sorry you had to defend me like that."
"Sorry your marriage started with rocks and accusations instead of celebration and joy." "Don't apologize for other people's ugliness," Bo said firmly. "Our marriage started with truth and love and commitment. The rest is just noise."
"Loud noise," Thomas piped up from the back of the wagon. "That lady called Mama a bad word. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was bad by how she said it." Bo and Kelly exchanged glances.
They'd hoped the children hadn't heard the worst of it, but clearly that had been foolish. "Thomas," Bo said, turning to address the boy directly, "some people say mean things when they're scared or angry or jealous. It doesn't make the words true. Your mama is a good woman, the best woman, and anyone who says different is lying."
"You understand?" "Yes, sir. But why are they lying about Mama?" "Because it makes them feel powerful to tear down someone they see as weak. But they're wrong about your mama being weak."
"She's the strongest person I know." "Stronger than you?" Thomas asked skeptically. "Much stronger than me," Bo confirmed. "I just hide my weakness better."