Clara laughed.
“Silas?”
“Yes.”
“You’re supposed to kiss me.”
He opened eyes.
“May I?”
That nearly undid her.
“Yes.”
He kissed her carefully.
Then less carefully when she pulled him closer.
The mountains did not change.
No music.
No witnesses.
Only wind.
When they separated, Clara said:
“One condition.”
Silas looked alarmed.
“I want room of my own.”
His expression softened.
“I can build.”
“I know.”
“And key.”
He nodded.
“A key from inside.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll make two.”
“No.”
He frowned.
“One.”
“Yours?”
“Mine.”
Silas smiled.
“Fine.”
They married in Harlan’s Crossing three weeks later.
Not because they needed legal permission to live together.
Because Clara wanted vows said in front of people who had watched her father try to sell her.
Not revenge.
Correction.
She wore dark green dress.
Silas wore clean black coat Harlan forced him to purchase.
Ephraim stood at back.
Clara had not invited him.
Neither had she barred him.
He came quietly.
When preacher asked who gave woman away, Clara interrupted.
“No one.”
The preacher blinked.
Silas looked at her.
She continued:
“I walked here.”
The preacher smiled faintly.
Then proceeded.
When Silas placed simple silver ring on her finger, Clara still wore her mother’s letter sewn into inside pocket.
After ceremony, Ephraim approached.
He removed hat.
“Clara.”
She waited.
“You look like your mother.”
Her throat tightened.
“Thank you.”
He looked at Silas.
Then back.
“I am sorry.”
Clara watched him.
“For what?”
This time he managed.
“For trading you.”
“For making you responsible for keeping me alive.”
“For drinking what you earned.”
“For taking your mother’s things.”
“For being glad when you were hungry because it meant you wouldn’t leave.”
Clara inhaled sharply.
That last one was new.
Ephraim’s face crumpled.
“I hated myself for needing you, so I made you need me.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“I am sorry.”
Clara stood very still.
Everyone else had moved away.
Silas stood nearby but not close enough to intrude.
Clara said:
“I forgive the man standing here saying this.”
Ephraim looked up.
She continued:
“I do not pretend the man who did it did no harm.”
He nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“And I’m not coming home.”
“I know.”
“I may visit.”
His eyes filled again.
“I’d like that.”
Clara hugged him.
Briefly.
Then stepped back herself.
That was enough.
The mountain cabin changed.
Silas built the room.
Clara helped.
It had one window facing east.
A small desk.
A narrow bed.
A shelf for books.
A door with one lock.
One key.