She thought.
“This.”
“What?”
“You asking.”
His eyes softened.
“I can do that.”
“For the rest of your life?”
He went still.
She realized what she had said.
Then, for once, she did not retreat.
The mountain man whispered:
“If you’ll let me.”
The woman sat upright.
“Is that a proposal?”
He looked horrified.
“No.”
Her face fell slightly.
Then he hurried:
“I mean—I don’t have a ring.”
She laughed.
He continued.
“I don’t have anything prepared.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
Her smile widened.
“How often?”
“Frequently.”
“How frequently?”
“Uncomfortably.”
She laughed.
He took her hand.
His enormous fingers trembled.
“I don’t want your land.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I don’t want gratitude because I opened a door during a storm.”
“I don’t want your father’s promise to become a chain between us.”
The woman’s eyes filled.
He continued:
“I want mornings.”
“Bad coffee.”
“You complaining about my books.”
“You reading too late.”
“You taking up as much room in this cabin as you want.”
Her tears fell.
He looked terrified.
“Did I say something wrong?”
She laughed through tears.
“No.”
He continued:
“I want you angry.”
“Happy.”
“Loud.”
“Quiet.”
“Hungry.”
“Full.”
“Tired.”
“Strong.”
“Whatever shape life makes you.”
She covered her mouth.
The mountain man swallowed.
“If that sounds like marriage to you, then yes.”
“I’m asking.”
The woman stared at him.
Then said:
“No.”
His face collapsed.
She almost felt cruel.
Then she smiled.
“Not yet.”
Hope returned carefully.
She continued:
“I’ve been married because circumstance cornered me.”
“I will not marry because a storm brought me to your door and danger made everything feel larger.”
He nodded.
Pain remained, but respect came with it.
She squeezed his hand.
“Ask me again when life is boring.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“When there are no robbers.”
“No court hearings.”
“No inheritance.”
“No secret tunnels.”
“When we’ve argued about laundry.”
“And money.”
“And whether you track mud across my floor.”
He smiled.
“Your floor?”
“We’ll negotiate.”
She continued:
“Ask me when I know whether I love you during ordinary weeks.”
The mountain man looked at her.
“And if I do?”
“Then I’ll answer.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
Life became boring.
Gloriously.
Spring arrived.
Mud replaced snow.
The woman moved into a house closer to her land.
The mountain man repaired fences.
She hired him and paid him.
He hated being paid.
She insisted.
They argued.
She won.
He tracked mud into her kitchen.