“How old were you when they operated?”
“Thirteen.”
“You remember it?”
Caleb gave a hollow laugh.
“I remember everything before they gave me enough whiskey.”
Eleanor’s hand lowered.
Caleb immediately began pulling his shirt closed.
She caught the fabric.
He froze.
“Leave it.”
His eyes lifted.
“I want to understand.”
“You don’t owe me that.”
“Stop telling me what I owe.”
The words came sharper than she intended.
Caleb flinched.
Eleanor released the shirt.
Then softened her voice.
“My first husband spent five years deciding what I was allowed to feel. What I was allowed to eat. What I should be ashamed of. What I should apologize for.”
She looked directly into Caleb’s blue-gray eyes.
“I will not begin a second marriage by letting another man decide what I am capable of seeing.”
Something changed in Caleb’s expression.
Not confidence.
Perhaps respect.
Perhaps relief.
He let the shirt remain open.
Outside, wind slammed against the cabin.
The window rattled so violently that Eleanor glanced toward it.
Caleb noticed.
“That latch holds.”
“You’re certain?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
He almost smiled.
“Comforting.”
“I built the shutters stronger than the window.”
“And if the window breaks?”
“We close the shutters.”
“And if the shutters break?”
“We move away from the window.”
“And if the wall comes down?”
Caleb finally smiled.
“Then you may criticize my construction.”
The smile transformed him.
Eleanor had seen hints of it during the day, but never like this.
The severe face softened. The lines around his eyes changed. For a moment he was not the enormous mountain man people in the settlement whispered about.
He was simply a lonely man who had discovered humor in the middle of terror.
Eleanor smiled back.
Then the movement beneath his scar came again.
Caleb’s smile disappeared.
Eleanor noticed.
“You still think I’m going to change my mind.”
He looked toward the fire.
“Wouldn’t blame you.”
“I would.”
Caleb frowned.
Eleanor continued.
“I married you this morning.”
“Yes.”
“I am allowed to discover unexpected things.”
“That seems larger than unexpected.”
“You’ve met my family.”
He looked puzzled.
Eleanor almost laughed.
“My eldest brother once tried to sell our mother’s piano because he thought she wouldn’t notice.”
Caleb stared.
“She noticed.”
“I assume.”
“She chased him three streets with a broom.”
Caleb laughed.
Eleanor pointed at his chest.
“Compared with that, your strange heartbeat remains under consideration.”
He shook his head.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make something I spent nineteen years fearing sound ordinary.”
Eleanor’s smile faded.
“I spent years wishing someone would do the same for me.”
Caleb looked at her body.