Talk about her parents

You wanted to talk to her about her parents, but is that a good idea? The wound is still fresh, but maybe she doesn't have an outlet for talking about them. Maybe sharing some fond memories of her past would help alleviate the sadness a bit. Maybe someone being there wanting to know about her would indicate a want to be a part of her future. But maybe it would only make it worse.

Your eyes fall upon a photo hanging on the wall adjacent to you. It's a family photo. It features Claire, and her mom and dad standing in front of the house. Claire looks smaller. You estimate the picture to be three or four years old. They look happy. In the oval frame someone has engraved: "Hibbert Family, 1880"

"Jess?" Claire prods you.

"Hmm?" you hum.

"You said you wanted to ask me something." she responds: "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh nothing." you answer: "It doesn't matter."

"No, please. Tell me what's on your mind." she pleads.

"I was just thinking about the photo on the wall." you admit.

"Oh." she trails off, her voice becoming sorrowful: "Yeah. I remember that day."

"I'm sorr-" you want to apologize but she interrupts.

"Craig had picked up this guy on his way here. It turns out he was a photographer. He wanted to take photos of the desert for some journal." she says starting to perk up a bit: "I'd never seen a real camera before. Or since, really. We don't get to see a lot of new things out here. My dad convinced him to let him hire him to take a picture of us. It was a fun day."

Her expression instantly turns sad: "I still miss them."

You grab her shoulder and push her into your side.

"I'm not gonna **** you to talk about them. Just tell me to shut up next time." you say.

"No, I... I want to talk about them." she sniffles: "At first, I wanted to just forget them as quickly as I could, so it could stop hurting, but I don't think I can do that. I don't want to that."

"You shouldn't." you say.

"And you don't have to." Emily says. She's put the book she was reading down, and is now kneeling in front of Claire, sympathetically caressing her thigh.

"Yeah..." Claire sighs: "So ask me anything."

"You're strong Claire." Emily says: "What were your parents like?"

"They were really nice. They never hit me, and they only rarely shouted. They were busy with their job, so I took care of the house. I cleaned, made food, and I fixed their clothes. I'd also help fix other people’s clothes."

"What did they do?" you ask.

"They didn't really have a specific job. They just helped around the town with anyone who needed help. They'd usually help Juliette with her farm, since she was getting old. They'd also help the sheriff with stuff every now and then. They'd restock the shelves with the shopkeeper Jason, or they'd help Richard Wilson with the stables. They didn't really help with the bar, since the sheriff was there to kick out rowdy guests. They uh... they did drink a lot. It wasn't a problem or anything. I just don't think they had much else to do much of the time."

"Wouldn't they spend time with you?" you ask.

"Oh they did. We did have lots of evenings together. They were always so grateful to me that they had a nice warm meal every day. At evenings we would usually either read together or play cards. They'd mostly only go out to drink once they thought I was asleep."

"They sound dear." Emily smiles.

"They were." Claire nods.

"Thanks for telling us." you say in a low respectful tone.

"Thank you for listening to me." she responds a couple of tears in her eyes, but a small smile on her face.

"Always." Emily assures her, while giving her a hug. After the hug, Emily gets up and sits back down into the armchair.