Safe.
Working as a seamstress in Boston.
But Harlan never forgave himself for sending her back once.
Josephine listened silently.
“That’s why you turned around when I asked.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you stopped when I moved.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why my mother trusted you.”
Harlan stared at the ceiling.
“Your mother taught me something I should’ve already known.”
“What?”
“A door that locks from the outside is a prison.”
He looked at Josephine.
“A door that locks from the inside is shelter.”
Josephine felt tears gather.
She kissed his chest.
“I think she would have liked this cabin.”
“She did.”
Josephine lifted her head.
“What?”
Harlan froze.
Josephine stared.
“My mother was here?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“Why?”
“Passing through.”
“You never told me.”
“I forgot.”
She slapped his shoulder lightly.
“You forgot my mother visited this cabin?”
“I had other things on my mind.”
“Like what?”
Harlan looked embarrassed.
Josephine narrowed her eyes.
“Harlan.”
He sighed.
“She talked about you.”
Josephine became still.
“What did she say?”
Harlan hesitated.
“That you were stubborn.”
Josephine smiled.
“What else?”
“Smart.”
“What else?”
“Kind.”
Her smile weakened.
“What else?”
Harlan looked toward the window.
Josephine waited.
Finally he said, “She said you believed no man would ever want you.”
Josephine’s chest tightened.
“And?”
Harlan looked at her.
“I told her men were idiots.”
Josephine laughed through tears.
“She asked if I meant myself.”
Josephine stared.
“What did you say?”
“I said I had never met you.”
“And she?”
“She said that wasn’t an answer.”
Josephine laughed harder.
Harlan smiled.
“She showed me a photograph.”
Josephine stopped.
“What photograph?”
“A family portrait.”
“Oh God.”
“You were wearing a terrible hat.”
Josephine covered her face.
“I was seventeen.”
“I know.”
“My aunt chose it.”
“I suspected.”
She lowered her hands.
“You remembered me from a photograph?”
“Yes.”
“For six years?”
Harlan’s ears reddened again.
Josephine stared.
Something dawned on her.
“You noticed me before the letter.”
He looked trapped.
“Harlan.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
He exhaled.
“Six years.”
Josephine sat upright.
“You married a woman you’d been thinking about for six years?”
“That sounds worse when you say it.”
“It sounds better.”
Harlan stared.