“You've done enough for today,” he said.
She looked up.
“Have I?”
“You've cooked, cleaned, taught three children, and somehow covered half the kitchen in flour.”
“That last accomplishment was largely accidental.”
He sat opposite her.
“You don't have to work every waking hour.”
Adeline lowered her eyes to the mitten.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep reminding me.”
He studied her face. In the firelight, the lines of fatigue beneath her eyes were more visible than usual.
“Why do you do it?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Give so much of yourself to people you barely know.”
She continued sewing.
“Perhaps because I know what it feels like when nobody does.”
Caleb leaned back.
“Is that why you walked all the way from Kettle Creek?”
The needle paused.
“Yes.”
“Because nobody would help you?”
She drew the thread through the cloth.
“Because I had to keep moving.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No,” she agreed. “It isn't.”
He waited.
Adeline turned the mitten over in her hands.
“My employer was a widow. Her name was Mrs. Pembroke. She had two children and very little money, but she always made sure I ate with them. When her husband died, she sold almost everything to pay his debts. I stayed as long as I could, but she eventually went east to live with her sister.”
“And you couldn't go with her?”
“She could barely afford to take her children. I wouldn't have asked her to carry me too.”
“So you left.”
“I thought I could find work in Bishop's Ford. My cousin lives there.”
“Why didn't you write ahead?”
“I did.”
“And?”
Adeline's mouth tightened.
“I never received an answer.”
Caleb frowned.
“Perhaps the letter was lost.”
“Perhaps.”
But the way she said it suggested that she had considered other possibilities.
He looked at her worn coat, the patched elbows of her dress, and the small carpetbag that held nearly everything she owned.
“How long have you been without steady work?”
“Since October.”
“And you walked for two days in this weather?”
“Three.”
He stared at her.
“Three?”
“The storm forced me to shelter in an abandoned shed for most of one day.”
“You could have died.”
“Yes.”
She said it so quietly that he could not tell whether she was frightened by the thought or had simply accepted it.
He leaned forward.
“Adeline, why didn't you ask for help?”