“Yes?”
“There's nothing about you a decent man would need to overlook.”
She became very still.
Her fingers stopped moving.
Harlon didn't smile.
Didn't make a joke.
Didn't look away.
He simply sat across from her with the calm certainty of a man describing something obvious.
Amily's lips trembled.
“You don't have to say that.”
“I know.”
She looked down.
“People say kind things when they think somebody needs comforting.”
Harlon leaned forward.
“I'm not comforting you.”
Her heart began pounding.
He continued.
“I'm telling you what I see.”
For a long moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, “And what do you see?”
Harlon looked toward her face.
The chestnut curls.
The intelligent green eyes.
The softness of her cheeks.
The hands that had spent the afternoon carefully repairing things he would have thrown away.
He took a slow breath.
“A beautiful woman who's been taught to apologize for taking up space.”
Tears gathered in Amily's eyes.
Harlon continued.
“And I reckon she's had enough of that.”
She covered her mouth.
For several seconds, she couldn't answer.
Then she laughed shakily.
“You make everything sound so simple.”
He smiled sadly.
“Most important things aren't.”
Amily wiped her cheeks.
Then looked toward him.
“Thank you.”
Harlon nodded.
He wanted to reach across the table.
Take her hand.
Tell her she had become more important to him in two days than anyone had in nearly a decade.
But he understood that Amily had arrived frightened, exhausted, and hunted.
He would not mistake gratitude for affection.
So he remained where he was.
And when she returned to her sewing, he picked up the old survey book and began examining the maps.
For nearly an hour, the cabin was peaceful.
Then Harlon noticed something that made his expression change.
He was studying the original map of Bellwether Meadow when he saw a handwritten notation near the old Ward farmhouse.
Three small marks had been drawn beside the western wall.
Not ordinary survey symbols.
Not measurements.
A pattern.
Two short lines.
Then a small circle.
He frowned.
Amily noticed.
“What is it?”
Harlon turned the map toward her.
“Does this mean anything?”
She leaned closer.
Her eyes narrowed.
Then she reached for her mother's sewing purse.
She removed the blue cloth that had wrapped the silver key.