“Martha.”
She laughed through them.
“You built me a room before you even knew I’d come.”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“Probably.”
“You could have wasted all that work.”
“Wood grows back.”
That did it.
Martha turned away because crying in front of him felt unbearable.
Sarah climbed onto her bed.
“This one is soft.”
Caleb sat carefully on his.
Bess was already asleep against Martha.
Gideon said quietly:
“I’ll leave you.”
He started toward door.
Martha caught his sleeve.
He stopped.
Her fingers rested on heavy coat.
“You’re not what they say.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What do they say?”
She almost smiled.
“You probably don't want list.”
“No.”
Martha looked into his face.
“Thank you.”
Gideon nodded once.
He started away.
Martha did not release his sleeve.
He looked down at her hand.
Then up.
Something unfamiliar moved between them.
Not gratitude exactly.
Not yet desire.
Recognition.
Martha said:
“You’re making this difficult.”
“What?”
“Hating you enough to keep my sense.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
“Sleep.”
He left.
That first night, Martha did not.
She lay beneath a clean quilt listening to unfamiliar sounds.
Wind outside logs.
Creek.
Fire settling.
Bess breathing from the little bed in next room.
Sarah rolling over.
Caleb whispering something once in sleep.
The cabin was warm.
Actually warm.
Martha kept expecting someone to knock.
Landlord.
Creditor.
Church woman offering pity.
No one came.
Near midnight, she heard Gideon moving in main room.
Then silence.
Martha slipped out.
He was sleeping in a chair beside stove.
His own bed stood unused.
She stared.
Of course.
He had given the children the main bedroom because it held three small beds and did not want to sleep there with them.
So the man who owned four rooms and had built Martha a separate one was sleeping upright.
She almost woke him.
Did not.
The next morning Gideon was already outside when Martha woke.
Caleb stood by the window.
“Where’s he going?”
Martha looked.
Gideon was splitting wood.
“I don't know.”
Caleb frowned.
“He’s too big.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
Martha laughed unexpectedly.
Sarah looked up from table.
“Are we staying?”
Martha’s smile faded.
“For now.”
“For always?”
“I said for now.”
Caleb asked:
“You marrying him?”
Martha leaned against counter.
“I don't know.”
The boy looked relieved.
Then disappointed with himself for being relieved.
Martha saw.
“Caleb.”
He looked away.
“You do not have to replace your father.”
“I know.”
“No one can.”
He swallowed.
“Good.”
“Gideon isn’t asking you to.”
Caleb glanced out window.
“How do you know?”
“Because if he does, I leave.”
Simple.
Caleb looked at her.
He nodded.
That became the foundation.
Not love.
Rules.
Martha needed rules.
Gideon did too.
That afternoon they sat at table.
Children outside near barn.
Martha folded hands.
“If this arrangement continues, we need terms.”
Gideon sat across.