“Certainly.”
“Of what?”
“Plenty of things.”
“Such as?”
He glanced at the storm-dark window. “Losing the cabin to a fire. Getting caught in an avalanche. Riding a trail in weather like this and finding the bridge washed out. Not being able to get help to someone who needs it.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
His mouth curved faintly. “No.”
“Not even when I don't know what I want?”
“No.”
“Not when I change my mind?”
“Especially not then.”
Josie lowered her gaze. A few moments passed before she spoke again.
“My aunt used to say that a woman who changed her mind was a woman who couldn't be trusted.”
“Your aunt was wrong.”
“She said it was a husband's duty to teach his wife to obey.”
Caleb's expression grew serious. “I don't believe marriage is a lesson in obedience.”
“What do you believe it is?”
He looked down at their hands. “A promise to build a life together. To be honest. To look after each other. To disagree when we need to, and to listen when the other person says something matters.”
Josie gave a small, uncertain smile. “That sounds harder than obedience.”
“It probably is.”
“Are you good at it?”
“Not always.”
She glanced up, surprised by the admission.
“I can be stubborn,” he said. “And I spend too much time alone. Sometimes I forget that a person can need an answer instead of a solution.”
Josie smiled a little more. “You do like solutions.”
“I do.”
“You fixed the loose hinge on the cupboard while I was telling you about my aunt.”
“I was listening.”
“You were hammering.”
“I can do both.”
She let out a small laugh, then covered her mouth as though the sound had escaped without permission.
Caleb smiled. “There it is.”
“What?”
“Your laugh.”
She looked away, embarrassed. “I haven't laughed much lately.”
“I noticed.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No. I'm glad to hear it.”
The room seemed warmer.