She had dressed in one of her surviving gowns.
It barely buttoned at the chest because the laundress who packed her trunk had shrunk it weeks earlier.
Clara hated the way it looked.
She nearly remained inside.
Then Juniper scratched the door.
Clara stepped onto the porch.
The world had changed.
Snow covered everything.
Mountains rose behind Caleb’s cabin, white and violent beneath the morning sky. Pine trees carried thick snow along every branch. A frozen lake reflected pale sunlight.
Clara forgot her dress.
Forgot her body.
Forgot Red Hollow.
“Oh.”
Caleb stopped swinging the ax.
Clara walked slowly toward the bench.
Her ankle remained stiff.
He noticed.
Immediately.
“You shouldn't be outside.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You're walking.”
“Temporarily.”
“Cold can worsen swelling.”
“Are you doctor today?”
“No.”
“Then split your wood.”
He stared at her.
Clara sat.
A burgundy wool blanket rested over the bench.
She wrapped it around herself.
Caleb returned to chopping.
One strike.
Log split.
Another.
Clara watched.
He removed his coat after a few minutes.
His gray shirt stretched across a back that looked unfairly designed for distracting injured widows.
Clara looked away.
Then looked back.
Caleb caught her.
The ax stopped.
Clara’s cheeks heated.
He looked just as embarrassed.
This was ridiculous.
She decided to make it worse.
“You're staring.”
Caleb blinked.
“I’m holding an ax facing opposite direction.”
“You were staring before.”
“No.”
“You do it often.”
He buried the ax into stump.
“Want coffee?”
“Changing subject.”
“Yes.”
He went inside.
Clara smiled.
He returned with two enamel mugs.
She accepted one.
Their fingers touched.
Caleb pulled away so quickly hot coffee almost spilled.
Clara watched him.
“What is it?”
“Coffee.”
“I mean you.”
“That’s broad.”
“You look at me and then act like touching me might cause an avalanche.”
Caleb’s jaw moved.
“Maybe.”
She smiled slightly.
“Do I frighten you?”
“No.”
“Disgust you?”
His head snapped toward her.
“What?”
There.
Too fast.
Too sincere.
Clara looked down at her cup.
“Nothing.”
Caleb remained still.
Then slowly sat on the porch rail opposite her.
“Who told you that?”
She shrugged.
“Nobody had to tell me this morning.”
“People told you before.”
Clara stared toward frozen lake.
“You’ve met Red Hollow.”
“Yes.”
“That’s answer.”
Caleb’s hands tightened around mug.
“They’re fools.”
Clara laughed softly.
“Convenient assessment from a man who barely goes there.”
“I barely go because they’re fools.”
She looked at him.
He continued.
“You think I carried you two miles through chest-deep snow and spent four nights checking whether you were breathing because your hips offended me?”