“He died last year.”
Henry understood.
“Then you ran.”
“I prepared first.”
She looked toward the battered carpetbag near the wall.
“I copied everything I could.”
Henry followed her gaze.
“Documents?”
“Some.”
“How important?”
“Important enough that my uncle would prefer they disappear.”
Henry stood.
Clara watched him cross toward the bag.
“You knew about this when you answered my advertisement?”
“Yes.”
“You chose Montana because it was far away.”
“Yes.”
“You chose me because I was isolated.”
Clara's eyes closed briefly.
“Yes.”
The word hurt more than Henry expected.
He turned away.
She saw it.
“Henry.”
“You don't need to explain.”
“I do.”
“No.”
“I do.”
He looked back.
Her face was no longer defensive.
Only tired.
“I didn't know you.”
“That much is obvious.”
“I knew you owned land in your name. I knew you lived far from town. I knew your nearest neighbors were miles away. I knew you were asking for a practical marriage.”
“You thought I wouldn't ask questions.”
“Yes.”
Henry gave a humorless laugh.
“Well.”
“I thought practical meant safe.”
“And now?”
Clara looked at him.
“Now I know I was wrong about what practical meant.”
Henry waited.
She continued.
“I thought I needed a husband who wouldn't care enough about me to become dangerous.”
That confused him.
“What?”
“If you did not care, nobody could use me to hurt you.”
Henry stared.
Clara swallowed.
“I never expected you to reinforce the porch.”
Silence.
“I never expected salve on the table.”
Another pause.
“I never expected you to eat burned bread so I wouldn't feel ashamed.”
Henry looked away.
“I was hungry.”
“No, you weren't.”
He almost smiled.
Clara continued.
“And I certainly didn't expect you to punch a man for insulting me.”
“You told me not to do that again.”
“Yes.”
“Then why mention it?”
“Because it mattered.”
Henry slowly sat again.
Clara reached toward him.
Her fingertips barely touched the back of his hand.
“I am sorry I used you as an escape.”
Henry looked at her fingers.
Then turned his hand beneath hers.
Their palms met.
“I’m not angry that you escaped.”
Clara's eyes lifted.
“I’m angry you thought you had to do it alone.”
She stopped breathing for a second.
Henry seemed surprised by his own words.
He looked toward the stove.
“Get some rest.”
Clara tightened her hand around his.
“Stay?”
Henry frowned.
“I’m not going outside.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
He looked at her.
For three weeks, the canvas divider had remained between their sleeping areas.
For three weeks, Henry had slept on the cot and Clara in the heavy bed.
For three weeks, they had obeyed every boundary of their arrangement.
Now she shifted slightly beneath the blankets.
There was room beside her.