“He was never much for conversation.”
Eleanor laughed again.
This time, she didn't apologize.
Caleb smiled.
And something began changing between them.
Not all at once.
Not through an extraordinary declaration.
Through the ordinary discovery that being together could be pleasant.
Eleanor learned that Caleb liked stories about the sea, even though he'd never seen the ocean.
He listened while she described books she'd read during long, lonely winters at the Whitmore house.
Sometimes he asked questions.
Sometimes he interrupted to argue about a character's foolish decision.
And sometimes he simply sat beside her with his eyes closed, enjoying the sound of her voice.
She discovered that he loved music.
His father owned an old fiddle, and Caleb could play a handful of simple tunes.
He was embarrassed by his skill.
Eleanor insisted he play anyway.
On the third evening, while the blizzard continued outside, he sat near the hearth and played a slow melody he'd learned from Nathaniel.
Eleanor listened.
The tune was imperfect.
One note came out rough.
Another was held too long.
But the music filled the cabin with something it had lacked for years.
When he finished, she wiped her eyes.
Caleb looked alarmed.
“Was it that bad?”
She laughed through tears.
“No.”
“Then why are you crying?”
She took a breath.
“Because nobody has played music for me in a very long time.”
He stared.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he lowered the fiddle.
“I can play again tomorrow.”
Her heart tightened.
“I'd like that.”
He nodded.
Then looked toward the fire.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Eleanor studied his broad shoulders, the dark hair falling across his forehead, and the thoughtful expression he wore when he believed nobody was watching.
He was beautiful in a way she'd never learned to describe.
Not because he looked like a gentleman from an expensive portrait.
But because his strength was accompanied by uncertainty.
He could split wood, repair a broken window, and stand his ground against armed men.
Yet he blushed when she complimented his music.
And whenever he approached her, he waited until he was certain she welcomed him.
She began to understand that Caleb wasn't afraid of women.
He was afraid of causing harm.
That fear had shaped almost every part of his life.
Eleanor recognized it.
Her own fear had simply taken a different form.
She was afraid of being a burden.