“After he died, everybody kept telling me how lucky I had been.”
Jedediah frowned.
“What was wrong with that?”
“It sounded like my allotment had been used.”
She laughed softly.
“One good man.”
“One marriage.”
Finished.
Jedediah's face changed.
“You believe that?”
“No.”
Meadow looked toward him.
“Some days.”
Jedediah said nothing.
A storm rattled the shutters.
The room felt smaller.
Meadow stood to add wood.
When she passed his cot, Jedediah caught her wrist.
Not hard.
She stopped.
He released immediately.
“Sorry.”
Meadow looked at his hand.
Then his face.
“Do it again.”
Jedediah's breathing changed.
He reached.
Slowly.
His fingers closed around her wrist.
Meadow stepped closer.
His hand traveled to her palm.
That was all.
They held hands beside the fire like teenagers.
It felt more dangerous than kissing.
So Meadow withdrew first.
“Good night.”
Jedediah stared.
“Coward.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“Paralyzed man calling me coward?”
“Come closer and prove me wrong.”
Meadow's face flushed.
She left.
Jedediah laughed.
Their flirting changed after that.
Not innocent.
Still restrained.
Meadow discovered Jedediah enjoyed watching her know she was wanted.
That mattered.
Most attention toward her body had been ridicule or apologetic affection.
Jedediah looked without apology.
When she bent over the stove, his eyes occasionally lingered.
Meadow caught him.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“You're staring.”
“Yes.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“Aren't you ashamed?”
“No.”
“Should be.”
“Why?”
She had no answer.
One evening she wore her blouse looser because the kitchen was hot.
Jedediah stared.
Meadow placed both hands on the table.
“Mountain man.”
“Yes?”
“My face is higher.”
“I know.”
“Then use your eyes properly.”
“I am.”
She threw a towel at him.
He caught it laughing.
Nothing explicit happened.
That was almost worse.
Desire accumulated in ordinary moments.
Her hand on his shoulder while adjusting the saddle.
His fingers around her waist during transfers.
Her body close when she lifted straps.
His breath against her neck.
Everything necessary could become unnecessary in half a second.
Neither crossed the line.
Until Mayor Abernathy returned.
He arrived in January wearing a fur coat far finer than anything Meadow owned.
His buggy stopped at the edge of the farm.
He stepped out.
Then stared.
The place had transformed.
Barn roof repaired.
Fences straight.
Stacks of firewood.
New pulley over the well.
Pathways.
Forge smoke.
A wagon repaired near the barn.
Meadow watched from the cabin doorway.
Jedediah was in the far field mounted on the draft horse, dragging an oak stump using a winch system of his own design.
Mayor Abernathy looked offended by success.
Meadow walked toward him.
“What do you want?”
He smiled.
“Always polite.”
“What?”
“Business.”
“No.”