Then asked:
“Do you always obey dead women more easily than living ones?”
For the first time, Nathan Cole smiled.
Not much.
Barely there.
But real.
“No.”
Then he left.
Clara sat on the bed.
The letter remained in her hands.
She stared at it for nearly ten minutes before opening it.
The first page began:
Dear stranger,
Clara stopped.
Not “future wife.”
Not “replacement.”
Stranger.
She continued.
If you are reading this, then Nathan did not frighten you away, the children did not frighten you away, and the agency has finally sent someone stubborn enough to ignore first impressions. That already makes me fond of you.
Clara laughed unexpectedly.
Then covered her mouth.
The house beyond the door remained quiet.
She read on.
Mara wrote directly.
No sentimentality.
She admitted she did not know whether the woman reading the letter would marry Nathan.
She did not demand it.
She did not even recommend it.
My husband is a good man in the same way an old barn is a good barn. Strong, useful, dependable, and occasionally convinced that because it has stood through one storm it requires no repair. Do not believe him when he says he is fine.
Clara smiled again.
Then the letter changed.
My children will test you. Please understand that they are not testing your patience. They are testing your disappearance.
Clara stopped.
The words reached somewhere deep.
She returned to the page.
Ethan will be angry first because anger is easier for him than hope. Samuel will watch what you do when nobody praises you. Lucy will try too hard to please. Rose will ask questions until you are exhausted. Ben may not speak to you at all. Please do not make any of them love you. If they do, let them choose the pace.
Clara wiped her eyes angrily.
She had known these children three hours.
Already Mara understood every moment at the station.
Then came the line that changed everything.
I did not ask the agency to send Nathan a wife. I asked them to send my children an adult who would not leave simply because grief made them difficult. If marriage grows from that, let it grow honestly. If it does not, I have arranged wages for six months from my own funds. You owe Nathan nothing.
Clara read it twice.
Then a third time.
Six months.