By the time she finished, her face had become pale.
Gabriel stepped closer.
"What does it say?"
She handed it to him.
He read slowly.
His jaw tightened.
Then he turned the page.
At the bottom, beneath the attorney's signature, someone had added a handwritten sentence.
Mr. Vale sincerely hopes you will reconsider before this becomes a public matter.
Gabriel stared.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked toward Clara.
"How did he find you?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
He considered the question.
The boardinghouse.
The mail.
The marriage advertisement.
There were many ways a determined man with money could trace someone who had traveled openly under her own name.
Gabriel didn't assume he could solve the problem simply by keeping Clara hidden.
He looked toward the letter again.
"We'll send this to Finch."
Clara's eyes filled.
"Gabriel."
He looked up.
"What?"
"He's going to come."
Gabriel took a slow breath.
"Perhaps."
She pressed a hand against her stomach.
"I know him."
Her voice trembled.
"He doesn't like being refused."
Gabriel looked toward her.
For a moment, he thought about promising that no one could hurt her.
But he had learned to distrust promises that claimed more certainty than a man could honestly provide.
So he answered differently.
"If he comes, we'll deal with what he actually does."
Clara swallowed.
"And if he tries to take the baby?"
Gabriel felt his chest tighten.
He looked toward her stomach.
Then back at her face.
"We'll get legal help and make sure nobody uses threats in place of proper authority."
She stared.
For a moment, tears filled her eyes.
Then she whispered, "You're still helping me."
Gabriel folded the letter.
"Yes."
Her voice broke.
"Even after everything?"
He looked at her.
For several seconds, he didn't answer.
Then he said quietly, "Clara, I haven't forgotten what happened."
She nodded.
"I know."
"But I don't want fear to become the only thing you remember about this house."
She began crying.
He looked toward the bread dough.
Then at the flour on her hands.
For a moment, he seemed uncertain.
Finally, he reached for a clean cloth.
Held it out.
She accepted it.
Then he added, almost shyly, "Besides, I'd rather not lose the woman who finally taught me how to make decent biscuits."
Clara laughed through tears.
The sound surprised them both.
Gabriel smiled faintly.
For a moment, the kitchen felt warm again.
Then he looked toward the letter.
The danger hadn't disappeared.
But neither had the possibility of happiness.
Christmas arrived beneath nearly two feet of snow.
The valley was quiet.
The road to town remained passable only with difficulty.