I said it to him in a dozen different ways over those months, and more than that I showed it to him, because Silas had never once in his life been persuaded by words alone.

I let him watch me love Daisy without loving him any less.

I let him see that Daisy’s parents and I were not rivals dividing a prize but simply more adults willing to stand around these two children.

Slowly, slowly, the arithmetic he had been taught began to come apart, and a better arithmetic took its place — not subtraction but addition, not a fixed pie to be fought over but a table that simply kept growing more chairs.

Several months later, I came out onto the back porch on a bright afternoon and found Silas sitting on the steps with his tools spread around him, fixing something that probably did not need fixing, and Daisy sitting right beside him, criticizing his every move.