“You saved it?”
“No.”
“Bought another.”
“For what?”
Elias stood behind her chair.
Clara recognized the look.
She smiled slowly.
“You're getting predictable.”
“Sit.”
“That sounded dangerously confident.”
“Please.”
“Better.”
Clara sat before the mirror.
Her hair had grown even longer.
Elias gathered it.
His hands were smoother with the task now.
He braided carefully.
Clara watched him through the reflection.
A year earlier she had looked into this same glass and seen every reason a man might regret marrying her.
Tonight she saw Elias behind her.
Older by a year.
A small scar near his chin from repairing a fence.
Dark hair touching his collar.
Gray eyes meeting hers.
Home.
He tied the ribbon.
Clara whispered:
“Do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“What I said?”
“You threatened my sleeping arrangements.”
She smiled.
“Before that.”
His expression softened.
“I remember everything.”
Clara looked toward the worn first letter still tucked beside the mirror.
“You really read that thing until it nearly fell apart?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Elias rested both hands on her shoulders.
“Because before you came, it was the closest thing I had to you.”
Clara’s eyes filled.
“Still terrible at romance.”
“I’m improving.”
“Slowly.”
He bent and kissed her neck.
Clara inhaled.
“Very slowly.”
Elias smiled against her skin.
She turned.
Their faces met.
No fear this time.
No question about whether she was enough.
No question about whether he wanted her.
Still, Elias asked quietly:
“Happy?”
Clara looked around the cabin.
At shelves he built for her books.
At ledgers stacked neatly.
At the pump outside that had not frozen once since her modifications.
At his blanket, long since folded permanently into a chest.
At the window where Wyoming snow fell against dark mountains.
Then at him.
“Yes.”
She touched his face.
“But not because you rescued me.”
Elias nodded.
“I know.”
“Not because you convinced me I was beautiful.”
“I know.”
“Not because you gave me a home.”
“I know.”
Clara smiled.
“Because you gave me room to believe you.”
His eyes softened.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“What did I give you?”
Elias looked toward the table.
Two cups.
Two chairs.
Books everywhere.
A scarf Clara had left hanging on the door.
Evidence of another person occupying his life.
Then back at her.
“You made everything answer back.”
Clara laughed.
“What does that mean?”
“It used to be quiet.”
He took her hand.
“Too quiet.”