“Nothing.”
She grabbed his arm.
He winced.
“That is not nothing.”
“A branch.”
“Sit.”
“Miriam—”
“Sit.”
He sat.
She cut the sleeve open.
The wound was shallow but long.
While cleaning it, Miriam noticed Jonas watching her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You stare a great deal for a quiet man.”
He looked away.
“That is because speaking usually makes things worse.”
“Staring can accomplish that too.”
“Noted.”
She tied the bandage.
His arm remained beneath her hand.
Neither moved.
Jonas’s voice was low.
“I meant what I said on our wedding night.”
“Which part?”
“That vows give me responsibilities, not permission.”
Miriam looked at him.
His gray eyes held hers.
“I won’t ask you for more than you want to give.”
Warmth moved through her in a way that had nothing to do with the stove.
She released his arm.
“Good.”
Jonas stood.
Then Miriam caught his sleeve.
He looked down.
She kissed his cheek.
Just once.
The beard was rough against her lips.
Jonas froze.
Miriam stepped away.
“That was what I wanted to give.”
He stood motionless.
She smiled.
“Try not to look terrified.”
“I’m working on it.”
By January, Miriam had moved his pallet closer to the bed.
Not onto it.
Closer.
He said nothing.
Two weeks later, after an especially cold night, she woke to find him shivering despite two blankets.
“Jonas.”
He sat up immediately.
“What?”
“Get into the bed.”
He stared.
“The temperature is twenty below.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are visibly shaking.”
“I shake often.”
“That argument has unfortunate history.”
He almost laughed.
Miriam lifted the blanket.
“Get in.”
He obeyed with the caution of a man approaching a wild animal.
He lay rigidly on the far edge.
There was nearly two feet between them.
Miriam turned onto her side.
“You may breathe.”
“I am.”
“Barely.”
Silence.
Then his breathing deepened deliberately.
Miriam smiled in the darkness.
They slept.
Nothing else happened.
In the morning Jonas made coffee with an expression so solemn that Miriam finally laughed.
“You look as though we committed a crime.”
“I was trying not to move.”
“All night?”
“Yes.”
“That explains why my husband now looks injured.”
His mouth curved.
It was the first time she had called him her husband without irony.
They both noticed.
Neither mentioned it.
Spring arrived late.