Her heart seemed to move into her throat.
“You're asking?”
“I am improving.”
“Slowly.”
“Yes.”
She touched his shirt near the collar.
“Then improve.”
Thomas kissed her.
Gently first.
As though she were something he wanted but did not intend to claim without permission.
Clara’s hands rose to his shoulders.
He pulled her closer.
The kiss deepened.
Then Thomas stopped himself.
His forehead rested against hers.
Clara could feel him breathing.
“That,” he whispered, “was better than the pie.”
She smiled.
“You're fortunate I love you too.”
Thomas pulled back.
“What?”
Clara’s eyes widened.
She had not meant to say it.
He looked stunned.
Then impossibly happy.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“I would like to hear it again.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
She smiled.
“You'll have to wait for the letter.”
Love did not immediately make life easy.
It made some parts more frightening.
Clara had already lost one husband.
Loving Thomas meant giving fate another target.
She never told him that directly.
He knew anyway.
When a winter storm caught him twelve miles north while helping a rancher move cattle, Clara spent one entire night beside her window imagining every disaster the mountains could provide.
Thomas returned near dawn.
Snow covered his coat.
Clara opened the door and slapped his chest before hugging him.
“You said before dark.”
“I know.”
“Do you own a clock?”
“No.”
“Thomas.”
“The herd broke through fencing.”
“I thought you were dead.”
His humor vanished.
He held her.
“I'm sorry.”
Clara pressed her face into his coat.
“This is why I didn't want this.”
“What?”
“You.”
Thomas stiffened slightly.
She pulled back.
“No.”
“I don't mean…”
She struggled.
“I loved Samuel.”
“And then he disappeared in nine days.”
“I know.”
“I survived.”
“But I don't want to become good at surviving this.”
Thomas touched her face.
“You don't have to promise me forever without fear.”
Clara closed her eyes.
“That's what marriage vows are.”
“We're not married.”
Her eyes opened.
Thomas immediately looked alarmed.
“That sounded wrong.”
Clara almost smiled.
He continued.
“I mean I am not asking you to promise something tonight.”
She stared.
“Were you thinking about marriage?”
Thomas’s ears turned red.
“Occasionally.”
“How occasionally?”
“Daily.”
Clara laughed.
He smiled.
“Too soon?”
“Yes.”