“My mother died when I was young. My father lived longer, but we didn't see eye to eye. He wanted me to settle in town and take a position at the trading post. I wanted to stay in the mountains.”
“So you left?”
“When I was twenty-two.”
“Were you lonely?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you still miss having people around?”
Caleb looked at her. “I suppose I do.”
“Then why live so far away?”
“Peace is easier to find when the nearest neighbor is several miles off.”
Josie smiled faintly. “And now you have a wife.”
“Yes.”
“Does that make your cabin less peaceful?”
He gave a quiet laugh. “It makes it less predictable.”
She smiled at that, then looked down at their hands again.
“I'm sorry I brought trouble here.”
“You didn't bring it. Someone chose to follow you.”
“But the cabin is yours.”
“And you're my wife. Your safety matters here.”
Josie absorbed the words, feeling their weight.
“My safety,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“Not my obedience.”
“Not your obedience.”
“Not my gratitude.”
“Not that either.”
She looked up at him. “Then what do you want from me?”
Caleb's expression softened. “I'd like to know you. I'd like to learn what makes you happy, what makes you angry, what you want to do with your days. I'd like us to build a home where you don't have to be afraid to speak.”
Her eyes filled once more.
“And if I never become the wife you imagined?”
“I didn't imagine a wife who had to become someone else.”
She bowed her head, and a tear slipped onto the back of their joined hands.
Caleb did not reach to wipe it away. He waited.
After a moment, Josie lifted her free hand and brushed the tear from her cheek herself.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that I would like to try.”
“Try what?”
“Being married to you. Not just living here because I have nowhere else to go. I want to see whether I can choose it.”
Caleb's eyes remained on hers. “We can try.”
“But slowly.”