“She did.”
“She likes you.”
“I like her, too.”
“She asked whether you were staying.”
Ruth’s expression softened.
“I told her I hoped to.”
Jonah looked at her. “I want you to.”
Ruth’s eyes returned to his.
“Then why do you keep leaving?”
He sat in the chair opposite hers. For the first time that evening, he did not seem to be searching for an excuse.
“Because I’ve been afraid,” he said. “And because I thought if I kept my distance, I could make sure I never hurt you.”
Ruth’s voice was quiet. “You have hurt me.”
“I know.”
“Do you understand how?”
He nodded, but she continued before he could answer.
“I came here believing that you had chosen me. Not because you needed a housekeeper, or because Clara needed a mother, or because you were lonely. I believed you had read my letters and wanted to know the woman who wrote them.”
“I did.”
“Then when you looked at me today, when we stood before the preacher, I thought you were happy.”
“I was.”
“But when we came upstairs, you looked at me as though you had made a mistake.”
Jonah’s face tightened.
“I didn’t think you were a mistake.”
“Then what did you think?”
He looked toward the window. Outside, the last of the evening light had faded, leaving only the dark outline of the barn and the faint gleam of the corral rails.
“I thought I was standing in front of the one person I might still lose.”
Ruth was silent.
Jonah leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.
“When Anne died, I was left with Clara and the ranch. I had to keep both alive. There wasn’t time to fall apart. So I worked. I got up before dawn, fed the stock, mended what needed mending, and came home to a little girl who wanted her mother. I learned to answer her questions, even when I had no answers. I learned to sleep in a house where every room reminded me of someone who wasn’t there.”
He paused.
“After a while, the pain became familiar. I knew where it lived. I knew what would bring it on and what would quiet it. I could work around it.”
Ruth listened without interrupting.
“Then you began writing to me,” he said. “And I found myself waiting for the post. I’d hear the rider coming up the road and leave whatever I was doing. I’d read your letters once, then again. Sometimes I carried them in my pocket all day.”
Her eyes flickered.
“I never knew that.”
“I didn’t tell you. I thought it was foolish.”
“It was not foolish.”
“I know that now.”
He drew a slow breath.
“When I asked you to marry me, I believed I could make a good life for you. I thought I could be honest, faithful, and kind. I thought if I gave you a home and treated you with respect, perhaps affection would grow.”
Ruth’s fingers tightened around the edge of her shawl.
“Perhaps?”
Jonah met her gaze.
“No. I was already in love with you.”