The mountain man went completely still.
For a moment, she thought he might not have heard.
Then he whispered, "Yes."
Lydia rose onto her toes as much as she could.
Gideon bent toward her.
Their lips met gently.
It was a brief kiss.
Warm.
Careful.
Almost shy.
When they parted, Gideon's eyes were wet.
Lydia smiled through tears.
"You're trembling again."
He laughed softly.
"Terribly."
She touched his cheek.
"Do you wish I hadn't?"
Gideon shook his head.
"No."
His voice was rough.
"Not for a single second."
She smiled.
Then rested her forehead against his chest.
Gideon wrapped his arms around her.
For a long time, they stood beside the table, surrounded by papers that threatened to unravel their marriage.
Yet the tenderness between them had become something no document could simply erase.
Over the next several weeks, the cabin changed.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
But in small ways that Lydia began to notice.
A second hook appeared beside the door for her cloak.
Gideon made a wooden shelf for her sewing supplies.
He repaired the window near the bed so the cold air no longer crept through the frame.
He moved a heavy chest away from the hearth to give her more room to sit comfortably while reading.
And one morning, Lydia discovered a small vase on the table.
Inside were three dried mountain flowers.
They had been preserved from summer.
She looked toward Gideon.
"What's this?"
He appeared uncomfortable.
"Flowers."
"I can see that."
He rubbed his beard.
"Found them in a box."
Lydia smiled.
"And decided they belonged on the table?"
He nodded.
She touched one delicate petal.
"They're beautiful."
Gideon smiled faintly.
"So are you."
Lydia looked up.
He seemed startled by his own boldness.
Then he turned toward the stove.
"I'll get more wood."
She laughed.
"Gideon Hayes."
He stopped.
"Yes?"
"You needn't run away every time you say something kind."
He looked back.
A sheepish smile appeared.
"Still learning."
Lydia crossed the room.
She took his hand.
"Then so am I."
But the past had not finished reaching into their lives.
One cold morning, a sealed envelope arrived with the weekly supply wagon.
It was addressed to Lydia Bowman.
Not Lydia Hayes.
Lydia stared at the name.
Gideon stood beside her.
The seal was ordinary brown wax.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
She opened it carefully.
Inside was a short message written on expensive paper.
Mrs. Bowman,
Certain documents in your possession remain the property of your lawful husband. You are advised to present yourself at the office of Silas Rusk in Calder's Crossing before the next full moon.
Failure to comply may result in legal action concerning your current domestic arrangement.