“Yes.”
“And lonely?”
His eyes lifted.
Clara expected denial.
Instead:
“Yes.”
She appreciated it.
Nathaniel looked tired suddenly.
“I miss having another adult in the house.”
“Someone who understands why a broken hinge matters before it becomes a missing door.”
“Someone who knows when flour is low.”
“Someone who notices which child has gone quiet.”
“Someone I can speak to after they sleep.”
Clara’s chest tightened.
“That sounds less like a housekeeper.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward her.
“That's why I said wife.”
Silence settled between them.
Then Samuel coughed from the bedroom.
Both moved immediately.
The moment disappeared.
By dawn, his fever finally dropped.
Nathaniel sat beside the bed holding the boy’s hand.
Clara stood at the doorway.
Samuel’s breathing remained rough but easier.
Nathaniel looked toward her.
His eyes were red from exhaustion.
“Thank you.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Don't thank me yet.”
“He needs another day.”
“Maybe two.”
Nathaniel nodded.
Then said:
“Come to Black Pine.”
Clara folded her arms.
“You have terrible timing.”
“I know.”
“You haven't slept.”
“Neither have you.”
“You're asking because I helped your son.”
“Partly.”
“No.”
Nathaniel became quiet.
Clara continued.
“I won't marry you because you feel indebted.”
“I don't.”