"For all the words you have yet to write," she whispered.
Then she looked toward him.
"Gideon, nobody ever thought my words mattered very much."
His expression tightened.
"Well, they do."
She began crying.
He opened his arms.
Lydia leaned into them.
For a long time, they held each other beside the little Christmas tree.
Then she drew back.
"I have something for you."
Gideon looked surprised.
"You do?"
She smiled.
"Of course."
She went to her sewing box.
Then returned carrying a neatly folded parcel.
Inside was a pair of thick winter mittens lined with wool and reinforced at the palms.
The stitching was careful.
The fit generous.
Along the cuffs, she had sewn a tiny pattern of dark-blue stars.
Gideon examined them.
"You made these?"
Lydia nodded.
"Your old ones were nearly worn through."
He slipped them on.
They fit perfectly.
For a moment, he looked unable to speak.
Lydia smiled.
"Well?"
Gideon opened and closed his hands.
Then looked up.
"These are the finest mittens I've ever owned."
She laughed.
"You've probably owned only six pairs."
"Seven now."
She laughed again.
He pulled her gently into his arms.
And kissed her.
It was no longer quite as shy as their first kiss.
But it remained tender.
Careful.
Freely given.
Outside, snow sparkled beneath the winter sun.
Inside, they celebrated Christmas with warm bread, roasted meat, apples, and a small tree decorated by a man who once believed he would spend every winter alone.
Ruth and Elsie arrived the following afternoon.
Elsie was eleven, bright-eyed, and incapable of remaining silent for more than a minute.
She entered the cabin carrying a basket of biscuits and immediately began asking questions.
"Did you really come all the way from St. Louis?"
Lydia smiled.
"Yes."
"Was it bigger than Calder's Crossing?"
"Much bigger."
"Did you ever see a train?"
"Many times."
"Did you ride one?"
"Several."
Elsie's eyes widened.
"Was it frightening?"
"Sometimes."
"Did you ever meet a famous person?"
Lydia laughed.
"Not that I know of."
Ruth removed her cloak.
"Elsie, let the poor woman breathe."
The girl looked embarrassed.
"Sorry."
Lydia smiled.
"It's all right. I like questions."
Elsie's face brightened.
"Really?"
"Yes."
She pulled out the wide wooden chair.
"Come sit beside me."
For the next hour, Lydia told Elsie about St. Louis.
Not the frightening parts.
The riverboats.
The bustling markets.
The music drifting from open windows during summer evenings.
The elaborate dresses women wore to formal gatherings.