Emma was headed for New Bedford.The day began as normal, with Emma fighting life so hard it reduced her to stringy tendons and a cruel mouth. Emma fought with her clothes, her bureau drawers, her father, her stepmother, her breakfast, the maid.Lizzie watched it all, listening, knowing that Emma was about to lose control. She knew the signs; after all these years, Lizzie knew the signs.So when Emma threw her silverware on the floor, kicked at it until it skittled out of reach, and then ran upstairs—all provoked by something innocuous that their father had said, Lizzie knew that New Bedford was not far away.And sure enough, Emma appeared in the dining room doorway in less than a half hour, wearing her traveling hat and carrying her valise.Abby continued with her breakfast, Andrew read the morning paper. Neither one of them seemed to care that Emma was off to further her destruction at the hands of unknowns. Lizzie alone flew to Emma’s side, her heart breaking in the midst of her pain over Kathryn.
