Harlon had repaired the broken frame during the night with spare boards.
A small lamp burned near the table.
And beside it sat a plate of bread, eggs, and potatoes.
She smiled faintly.
The largest mountain man she'd ever seen was also the first man who had ever made breakfast for her without expecting applause.
She dressed in the simple wool skirt and flannel shirt.
Then stepped toward the kitchen.
Harlon stood beside the stove stirring a pot.
He turned.
“Morning.”
Amily smiled.
“Good morning.”
He looked her over carefully.
“Feeling better?”
“Much.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
She glanced toward the food.
“Did you make all this?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“No. The squirrels helped.”
She burst out laughing.
Harlon grinned.
“Though one of them complained about the potatoes.”
Amily shook her head.
“You're impossible.”
“Been told that.”
She sat at the table.
The chair was broad and sturdy, built from thick cedar.
For the first time in years, she didn't need to examine the furniture nervously before sitting.
The realization caught her unexpectedly.
At boardinghouses and respectable homes, she'd learned to calculate which chairs might support her comfortably.
She avoided delicate furniture.
Chose benches whenever possible.
And often remained standing longer than she wanted because she feared the familiar creak of wood beneath her.
Here, the chair felt as steady as the mountain itself.
Harlon placed breakfast in front of her.
She looked up.
“Did you make this chair?”
He nodded.
“Years ago.”
“It's beautifully built.”
He glanced toward it.
“Needed something that wouldn't wobble when I sat in it.”
Amily smiled.
“You don't seem like a man who worries about wobbling furniture.”
He laughed.
“You'd be surprised.”
She took a bite of bread.
It was excellent.
For several minutes, they ate quietly.
Then she asked whether she could help with the house.
Harlon looked surprised.
“You're still recovering.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the table.
“But I don't want to spend all day sitting while you do everything.”
He considered that.
Then pointed toward a basket of torn clothing near the hearth.
“I've got a shirt that needs mending.”
Amily smiled.
“Now that's something I can do.”
He brought the basket.
She examined the damaged garments.
A shirt sleeve.
Two pairs of wool socks.
A coat with a torn lining.
And a leather strap that needed proper repair rather than sewing.