Knowing he was suffering pained me. That’s the way love tangles you up. I couldn’t stop loving him, and couldn’t shut off the feelings of wanting to care for him— but I also didn’t have to run to answer his letters. I was hurting, too, and no one was running to me.

On December 8, 1921, when the Leopoldina set sail for Europe, we were on board. Our life together had finally begun. We held on to each other and looked out at the sea. It was impossibly large and full of beauty and danger in equal parts-and we wanted it all.

Nothing hurts if you don't let it.

I didn't want to be a sweet boy's sweet girlfriend. I wanted to be Fawn's equal, the kind of girl who stood up for herself and took care of business, who cut guys loose when it was required.

I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.

To marry was to say you believed in the future and in the past, too-that history and tradition and hope could stay knit together to hold you up.

I would gladly have climbed out of my skin and into his that night, because I believed that was what love meant.