He looked toward the valley.
"What if he wants to cut?"
"We say no."
"What if he wants to tell people?"
"We leave."
"What if—"
Eleanor interrupted:
"What if he is simply a doctor?"
Caleb looked at her.
She continued:
"You spent nineteen years living according to the worst thing one doctor did."
"I spent five years believing the worst thing one husband said about me."
She placed one hand over her stomach.
"I don't want either man controlling the rest."
Caleb stared at her.
Then nodded.
"Spring."
"Spring."
Winter became their first season together.
They learned each other slowly.
Eleanor learned Caleb hummed while chopping wood but stopped whenever he realized she could hear.
Caleb learned Eleanor talked to bread while kneading it.
She denied this.
He heard.
They argued over blankets.
Caleb slept without enough because he believed Eleanor needed more.
She discovered and threw two back at him.
He threw one back.
War followed.
Eleanor won.
By January, she no longer slept behind a locked door.
By February, Caleb occasionally rested his hand at the small of her back when they crossed ice.
Always gently.
Always removed if she stiffened.
By March, Eleanor stopped stiffening.
Their first real kiss happened over spilled flour.
Nothing elegant.
Eleanor opened a sack badly.
White powder covered both of them.
Caleb stared at her.
She stared at him.
Then laughed.
He laughed.
She stepped closer.
The laughter disappeared.
Caleb whispered:
"May I?"
Eleanor nodded.
The kiss was careful.
Too careful.
She pulled back.
"Caleb."
His face fell.
"What?"
"You are kissing me like I'm injured."
He turned red.
"I don't know what I'm doing."
"I noticed."
She kissed him again.
Less carefully.
When they separated, Caleb looked stunned.
Eleanor smiled.
"Better."
He whispered:
"Can we practice?"
She laughed so loudly snow slid from the roof.
The scar remained part of their marriage.
Not the center.
Some nights it hurt.
Eleanor used heated cloths.
Sometimes the second rhythm became stronger after heavy labor.
Caleb learned to tell her before pain reached seven.
Progress.
When spring finally opened the trail, they rode to a settlement nearly two days away.
Caleb wanted to turn back three times.
Eleanor pretended not to notice the first two.
On the third:
"If you turn that horse around, I will follow you."
Caleb looked hopeful.
"And drag you back."
Hope vanished.
The doctor was an older woman.
That surprised Caleb almost enough to distract him from panic.
She had trained back east before moving west with her husband, who had since died.
She examined the scar.
Listened.
Asked questions.
Never once looked excited.
That mattered.