“And sunsets.”
He looked toward the window.
“And sunsets.”
“And the sound of the creek in the spring.”
“Yes.”
“And a little girl who believes rabbits are capable of understanding human conversation.”
Jonah smiled.
“She may be right.”
Ruth leaned back against him.
“You see? An adventure.”
He bent and kissed the top of her head.
“I suppose I do.”
Their marriage had not become effortless. Jonah still sometimes retreated into silence when grief surprised him. Ruth still occasionally felt the sting of comparison when someone in town spoke warmly of Anne’s kindness or skill. But they had learned to speak before resentment hardened.
When Jonah withdrew, Ruth asked what troubled him rather than assuming he no longer wanted her. When Ruth felt overlooked, Jonah listened instead of telling her she had nothing to fear.
They learned to disagree without treating disagreement as a threat.
They learned that desire did not vanish when a marriage became ordinary. It changed shape, deepening through familiarity and trust. Jonah discovered that Ruth’s laughter could undo the worst of his temper. Ruth discovered that the stern rancher who seemed so reserved in public could be playful and tender in private.
He began leaving small gifts on her desk: a smooth stone from the creek, a sprig of wildflowers, a new ribbon, or a book he had found in town.
She began leaving notes in his coat pocket.
Remember to eat your lunch.
The north pasture is muddy.
I love you.
Sometimes the notes were practical. Sometimes they were affectionate. Once, after a particularly difficult day, Jonah found a scrap of paper folded inside his hat.
Come home to me. I have saved the last piece of apple pie.
He carried it in his pocket for a week.
One evening in late August, a storm rolled across the plains.
The sky darkened before supper, and a sharp wind swept through the cottonwoods. Jonah went outside to secure the shutters while Ruth brought Clara in from the garden.
Thunder sounded over the hills.
Clara clapped her hands over her ears.
“I don’t like storms.”
Ruth knelt beside her.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“Will the house be safe?”
“Yes. Your father has made sure the shutters are secure.”
Another rumble shook the windows.
Clara flinched and reached for Ruth.
Ruth gathered her close.
“Would you like to sit by the lamp and read?”
Clara nodded.
They settled in the front room with a blanket and a book. Ruth began reading aloud, while rain tapped against the windows and Jonah moved about outside, checking the barn and corral.
The story was nearly finished when the front door opened.
Jonah stepped inside, wet from the rain, his hair darkened and his shirt clinging to his shoulders.
Ruth looked up.
“Are the animals safe?”