“Sometimes.”
He lowered his gaze.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know. But loving you means I have to accept that your life began long before I came into it.”
He reached for her hand.
“And yours began long before me.”
“Yes.”
“I want to know all of it.”
Ruth smiled sadly.
“There are parts I have not told you.”
“Then tell me when you’re ready.”
She looked at the box.
“My mother used to say that a person can be haunted by more than the dead. Sometimes we are haunted by the life we thought we would have.”
Jonah listened.
“I thought I would marry someone from Boston. I thought I would have a little house with a garden and teach school for a few years. I thought my mother would be there to see my children. When she died, I thought my father and I would somehow go on as before. Then he died, and the house was sold, and I had to decide what kind of life I could build without them.”
Jonah’s hand tightened around hers.
“I was not only choosing you,” Ruth continued. “I was choosing to leave behind the life I had imagined. That frightened me. But I came because I wanted something new, not because I had no other choice.”
He looked at her steadily.
“I’m glad you chose me.”
“So am I.”
They sat together on the floor, the little wooden box between them. Outside, snow slid from the roof with a soft rush. The room was quiet, but not empty.
Jonah leaned toward her and kissed her temple.
“Thank you for trusting me with your story.”
Ruth rested her head against his shoulder.
“Thank you for trusting me with yours.”
The first sign of spring came in March, when the snow softened along the south-facing fence and a small stream appeared beneath the ice near the barn.
Clara discovered it and announced that the creek had returned.
Ruth took her outside to look, wrapping the child in a wool coat and tying a scarf beneath her chin. The air was cold but bright, and the distant hills shone beneath a blue sky.
Jonah came out of the barn carrying a coil of rope.
“What have you found?”
“The water!” Clara cried.
“So it seems.”
“Will the flowers come back?”
“They will.”
“Will the rabbits?”
“If we build the hutch.”
Clara turned to Ruth triumphantly.
“You promised.”
“I did.”
Jonah laughed.
That afternoon, he and Ruth began building the hutch behind the house. Clara carried small pieces of wood, though most were too heavy for her. Jonah measured and cut the boards while Ruth held them in place. Their hands brushed often, and the work became an excuse for quiet conversation.
At one point, Jonah looked at the structure taking shape.
“You’re better at this than I expected.”