Gabriel cleared his throat.
"I meant what I wrote. You don't owe me anything simply because you came here."
Her eyes filled.
She looked down quickly.
He mistook her silence for discomfort.
"If you'd rather return east, I'll arrange passage. I wouldn't keep you here against your wishes."
Clara stared.
He was offering her the freedom to leave.
After paying for her journey.
After preparing the house.
After hoping for a wife.
He was making it clear that she wasn't trapped.
And that kindness nearly broke her.
She looked toward him.
"I don't want to leave."
Gabriel's expression softened.
"Good."
For a moment, they stood quietly.
Then he gave a shy smile.
"I suppose we'd better find out whether you like my cooking."
Clara laughed through tears.
"I've been warned about the biscuits."
He groaned.
"So my letters have betrayed me already."
She laughed harder.
The sound filled the hallway.
Gabriel stood looking at her.
For a moment, something bright entered his face.
Then he stepped aside.
"Come on. Supper's nearly ready."
That night, they ate at the kitchen table.
Elk stew.
Potatoes.
Bread he'd purchased in town.
And a jar of peaches he'd saved from the previous summer.
They spoke cautiously at first.
Then more easily.
Gabriel told her about Jasper.
About the horse that refused to cross bridges.
About the neighbor who insisted every lost cow had been stolen even when the animal was usually found eating in his own orchard.
Clara laughed.
She told Gabriel about the boardinghouse.
The noisy streets.
The women she had known in Missouri.
And the books she loved.
She didn't mention Edmund.
Didn't mention the attorney.
Didn't mention the child.
But when Gabriel smiled at her, she felt the weight of those omissions growing heavier.
Later, alone in her room, she sat on the bed and rested both hands over her stomach.
The house was quiet.
But not frighteningly quiet.
She could hear Gabriel moving downstairs.
Banking the fire.
Checking the door.
Speaking softly to Jasper.
It was the sound of ordinary domestic life.
The kind she had wanted for years.
She closed her eyes.
Then whispered, "I have to tell him."
She meant it.
She truly did.
Tomorrow.
She would tell him tomorrow.
But tomorrow came with chores.
Gabriel showed her the pantry.
The garden.
The chicken coop.
The water pump.
He explained how the back door stuck when the temperature dropped and how to keep the stove drawing properly during strong winds.
He gave her a small ledger to record household purchases.
Clara studied it.
Then asked whether he wanted her to organize the accounts.
Gabriel looked surprised.
"You know bookkeeping?"
"A little."
She smiled.