“I didn't get them.”
“I wrote.”
“Then the post is also an idiot.”
“Agreed.”
She held his face.
“You're here.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Elias looked at her.
He smiled.
“That depends.”
Clara’s heart tightened.
“On?”
“Whether the woman in this house has room for a man who owns almost nothing except one horse, three shirts, government back pay, and a deep suspicion of fruit pies.”
Clara stared.
“Are you proposing?”
“I’m attempting.”
“Badly.”
“I practiced.”
“Where?”
“Most of Maryland.”
“That explains it.”
Elias laughed.
Then lowered himself to one knee.
Clara immediately looked horrified.
“Get up.”
“What?”
“It's muddy.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
“Clara.”
“Your trousers.”
He laughed.
Then remained kneeling.
“Marry me.”
She looked at him.
No speech.
No promise to protect her.
No claim he would fix everything.
Just:
Marry me.
Clara folded her arms.
“One condition.”
“Anything.”
“Dangerous answer.”
“Fair.”
“You never call this your farm.”
Elias smiled.
“Our farm?”
She considered.
“Eventually.”
His smile widened.
“And?”
“You never tell me I can't handle something simply because you're afraid.”
“Agreed.”
“And you learn the appleless pie recipe.”
His face fell.
“No.”
“Then no marriage.”
“This is coercion.”
“Yes.”
Elias stood.
“Fine.”
“I'll learn.”
Clara smiled.
“Then yes.”
He froze.
“What?”
“Yes.”
“You could've led with that.”
“Where's the pleasure?”
He picked her up.
Clara shouted.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“I mean it.”
“You're my fiancée.”
“That grants no lifting rights.”
He put her down immediately.
She stared.
Then softened.
“Thank you.”
Elias nodded.
Learn.
Always learn.
They married in November.
Small church.
Twenty-two people.
The sheriff came.
So did farmers whose names appeared in Thomas's ledger.
Several had recovered money through claims against Silas's seized accounts.
Clara wore burgundy because she hated white.
Elias approved.
The reception was in the cabin.
There were two pies.
One real apple.
One false.
Nobody knew which was which.
Clara refused to label them.
Elias had helped make both.
His mock pie was ugly.
The crust uneven.
But it tasted right.
Mostly.
A neighbor took a bite.
“Apple?”
Elias looked at Clara.
She smiled.
“Ask the cook.”
Years passed.