"How?" he asked incredulously.
"Once you been through them and you move on, it becomes easier for you. You learn a lot too."
"And what happened with your father then?"
"Well, when he went to sea, he was in his element, he loved it. When we moved to St. Louis, his work was not important to him. But after my Mom died, he'd sit around telling me stories of the sea. How one of his mates caught the biggest fish they'd all ever seen. How he helped on a whalin' boat a time or two. He was a storyteller, when he talked you could almost see the men he was talking about. He'd tell me about men who'd been shanghaied onto the whalin' boats and how they did their best to escape them. Some didn't make it either. During Halloween he'd gather all the kids in the neighborhood together and scare the pants off us with his tales."
Lance chuckled, "He must have been quite a character."
"He was. But all the kids loved him, and their parents too. But later inside he had lost two of his loves, my mother, and the sea. It was hard on him, and he turned to drinking. He never got mean though. Never got in fights. He was a jolly drunk, and the people that knew him understood him. Just like I did."
"I guess it was hard to give up the sea, for him at least. A man's work is very important to him."
"Very much so. I agree."
"And you? How did you fare during all of this?"
"A child doesn't see it all until they are grown. It was merely tales to me until I was old enough to understand what he was telling me. He was telling me about his life, about his love."
Lance stared.
"When my father got to drinking too heavy, he was fired from his job. So, to keep a roof over our head, I went to work. Not that my father was pleased about it, but he couldn't work and drink like he did. He tried a time or two, but he just couldn't. My Mom had showed me how to clean a floor on my hands and knees and I worked hard at trying to be good at it. She'd told me no matter what I did, be good at it. Take pride in your work. The only thanks I got for it was the pleasure of knowing I did a good job and my Pa took over the cooking for me."
"Good at it?"
"My mother taught me that anything worth doin' was worth doin' right. The Mayor hired me, and I had plenty of work. I guess it kept me healthy though. I hardly ever got sick.
"The Mayor, he could never have enough land or power. He owned seven properties in town and two ranches one in St. Louis and one in Kentucky. He raced horses in Kentucky.
"The secret to happiness isn't how much you have, but that what you have satisfies you and you can take care of it. The one thing I wonder about you, do you want children?"
He chuckled, "Well, it took me this long to figure out I needed a wife. If I wait that long for children, it will be too late."
"Are you an only child?"
"Yes. My mother had a hard time having me, and the doctor said she couldn't have any more."
"That's sad, did she want more?"
"She wanted to give my father more, but he wouldn't risk it with her. He loved her too much to take a chance on losing her in childbirth."
"What did she look like?"
"Come here, I'll show you."
He took her into his bedroom and showed her his mother's picture. She glanced around the room quickly, not wanting to seem too curious. Being in his bedroom was no ploy for her and she didn't want him thinking in that direction.
She took the picture in her hand, held it to the lamp light and smiled. "You have her smile and hair. And your father?"
He handed her a picture of them together then. "Oh, he was handsome too."
"You think I’m handsome?" he grinned.
"You know you are." She grinned at him.
"You look a little like him, only different color of hair. How long ago did she die?"
"I was fourteen."