So there had been others.
That detail had not appeared in the agency letter.
Neither had the fact that there were five children.
She had been told children.
Plural.
Not five.
Five was not a grammatical distinction.
Five was a life.
Nathan finally spoke.
“Enough.”
His voice was low.
Not loud enough to frighten anyone.
The oldest boy immediately went quiet anyway.
Clara noticed.
The children were not afraid of Nathan.
They were accustomed to him.
That mattered.
She looked at him.
“You knew I was coming?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Six days.”
“And you never thought to write that there were five children?”
His expression shifted.
“I assumed they told you.”
“They told me you were a widower with children.”
“I am.”
“That is technically accurate in the same way saying Wyoming has some land is technically accurate.”
The twelve-year-old boy almost smiled.
Nathan noticed.
The boy immediately erased it.
Clara tightened her grip on the suitcase.
Wind pushed strands of chestnut hair across her mouth. She brushed them away impatiently.
She had imagined this moment many times during the journey.
Not romantically.
She was not foolish enough for that.
But she had imagined a greeting.
A handshake perhaps.
A stiff introduction.
Maybe Nathan would say he hoped the trip had not been too difficult.
Maybe one of the children would stare.
Maybe Clara would feel terrified and hide it.
Instead she had been on the platform less than two minutes and already knew she had not been told enough.
She looked at Ethan.
“Why did the other women leave?”
Nathan answered before the boy could.
“That’s not something we need to discuss here.”
Clara turned toward him.
“If I crossed half the country to marry you, I think I’ve earned the right to know whether women regularly flee your property.”
One of the little girls made a tiny choking sound.
Nathan looked briefly toward the sky.
Perhaps asking God for patience.
Clara hoped God denied the request.
“You haven't married me,” Nathan said.
“Not yet.”
“Then perhaps we should get off this platform before deciding whether you intend to.”
The words caught her.
Not before the wedding.
Before deciding.
She looked at him more carefully.
“You’re giving me a choice?”
Nathan’s brows drew together.
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
“My family did not describe this arrangement as especially democratic.”
Something dark crossed his face.