He seemed unaware of what he had said.
Something inside her shifted.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But curiosity.
Harlan carried the trunk inside.
Warmth struck Josephine’s face.
The cabin was simple but unexpectedly comfortable.
A large iron stove glowed near one wall.
Heavy blankets covered a wide bed.
Shelves contained flour, beans, preserved fruit, medicine, tools, and enough supplies to survive months of isolation.
There was a proper table.
Four chairs.
A rocking chair near the stove.
A second door apparently opened into a small storage room.
Josephine stood just inside.
Snow melted from her dress onto the floor.
Harlan set down her trunk.
Then looked at her carefully.
Her breathing had become worse.
His eyes narrowed.
“What’s wrong with your ribs?”
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t true.”
Josephine swallowed.
“The dress is tight.”
Harlan looked lower.
Then understood.
“The corset?”
Heat filled her face.
“Yes.”
“How tight?”
“I said I’m all right.”
Harlan came closer.
Josephine backed immediately against the door.
He stopped.
Something flickered through his eyes.
Understanding.
Harlan slowly raised both hands.
“I’m not touching you.”
Josephine felt foolish.
But fear remained.
She knew what men bought wives for.
The church certificate did not disappear because the cabin was warm.
Neither did the twenty dollars.
Harlan removed his coat and hung it beside the door.
“Your clothes are soaked.”
“I know.”
“You need them off.”
Josephine stiffened.
Harlan saw it.
His expression tightened as though annoyed with himself.
“Not for me.”
Silence.
“You’ll get sick.”
She said nothing.
Harlan looked toward the stove.
Then back at her.
“Take off everything wet.”
Josephine’s heartbeat accelerated.
He added, “I’ll turn around.”
She stared.
Harlan turned immediately and faced the opposite wall.
Josephine hesitated.
“Everything?”
“Anything soaked.”
“My underclothes are dry.”
“Keep them.”
She began removing the wedding dress.
The fabric clung.
Her large hands shook.
It took several minutes to free herself from the frozen layers.
Harlan never looked around.
Josephine removed the heavy petticoats.
Eventually she stood in a thin cream chemise and the brutal ivory corset.
Her body remained almost painfully compressed.
“You can turn around.”
Harlan did.
His eyes went directly to her face.
Not her chest.
Not her legs.
Her face.
Then his gaze moved to the corset.
His jaw hardened.
“Who laced that?”
“My aunt.”
“Does she hate you?”
Josephine almost laughed.
“Depends on the day.”
“Take it off.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“The knot.”
Harlan stepped forward.
Josephine’s arms crossed instinctively over her chest.
He stopped again.
“May I look?”
The question surprised her.
“At what?”
“The knot.”
Josephine hesitated.