The mountain had protected him for nineteen years.
Now, for the first time, he was beginning to understand that hiding forever might be the one thing Solomon Whitmore needed him to do.
The blizzard lasted three days.
Snow accumulated against the cabin walls, covering the porch steps and turning the surrounding forest into a landscape of white silence. The trail disappeared beneath drifts too deep for safe travel, and the mountain seemed to withdraw from the rest of the world.
Eleanor had never experienced such isolation.
At first, the silence frightened her.
Then it began to reveal the ordinary rhythm of Caleb's life.
He rose before dawn.
Checked the hearth.
Tended the animals.
Cleared necessary paths around the cabin when conditions allowed.
And returned to prepare breakfast with the solemn concentration of a man performing a complicated ceremony.
He wasn't a particularly graceful cook.
His biscuits were sometimes uneven.
His coffee was stronger than necessary.
And he had a habit of forgetting where he placed the spoon while searching for it with increasing frustration.
Eleanor found that endearing.
On the second morning, she watched him turn the kitchen upside down looking for a wooden ladle.
“Caleb.”
He stopped.
“Yes?”
She pointed toward his hand.
He looked down.
The ladle was there.
For a moment, he stared.
Then slowly looked toward her.
Eleanor began laughing.
It wasn't a restrained little laugh.
It was loud.
Warm.
And so unexpected that she startled herself.
Caleb stared.
Then smiled.
“I'm glad my foolishness is entertaining.”
She laughed harder.
“I'm sorry.”
He shook his head.
“Don't be.”
For several seconds, he simply watched her.
Then his expression softened.
“It's a beautiful sound.”
Eleanor stopped.
Her cheeks grew warm.
“What?”
“Your laughter.”
She stared.
Henry used to complain when she laughed too loudly.
He said it made her look ridiculous.
He said people would stare.
She'd learned to cover her mouth and lower her voice.
Now Caleb stood in the kitchen holding a wooden ladle, looking at her as though she'd given him a gift.
Eleanor swallowed.
“You don't mind?”
He looked puzzled.
“Mind what?”
“That I laughed.”
Caleb stared.
Then shook his head slowly.
“Eleanor, this house has been quiet for so long that I sometimes talked to Bracken just to hear a voice.”
The enormous dog lifted his head at the sound of his name.
Caleb looked toward him.