Her eyes filled.
“A little.”
He nodded.
“I would too.”
Beatrice looked toward the meadow.
“You hardly know me.”
Caleb’s voice softened.
“I know more every day.”
The silence changed.
She turned.
“What do you know?”
He thought.
“You hate cinnamon.”
“True.”
“You pretend not to be tired until you become angry at furniture.”
She almost smiled.
“You read after I fall asleep.”
Her smile disappeared.
“You know?”
“The lamp shines through the floorboards.”
“Oh.”
“You talk to the mule when you think I’m not listening.”
“He understands me.”
“He hates everyone.”
“Exactly.”
Caleb stepped closer.
“You always leave the last biscuit even if you want it.”
Beatrice’s throat tightened.
He had noticed.
“You fold blankets twice.”
“My mother did.”
“You watch doors.”
That one hurt.
Caleb continued.
“You taste food before swallowing like you’re waiting for your body to warn you.”
She looked down.
His voice became quieter.
“And every time someone treats you kindly, you look for the price.”
Beatrice’s eyes filled completely.
Caleb regretted the bluntness.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
She wiped one tear.
“You’re right.”
He extended his hand.
Again, only halfway.
Beatrice took it.
“What do you know about yourself?” she asked.
Caleb laughed softly.
“Less.”
“I can help.”
“Dangerous.”
“You sleep with one boot closer to the bed.”
“In case someone enters.”
“You hate onions.”
“Correct.”
“You are kinder to horses than people.”
“Usually deserved.”
“You make terrible coffee.”
He looked offended.
“You’ve gone too far.”
She laughed.
Caleb smiled.
Then she continued.
“You’re afraid that if you need someone, they will become something you can lose.”
His smile disappeared.
Beatrice regretted nothing.
“Your turn to be seen.”
Caleb looked toward the mountains.
“My younger brother died in the logging accident.”
Beatrice’s breath caught.
“The scar?”
“Yes.”
“I thought another man—”
“My brother.”
“Oh, Caleb.”
“He was behind me when the cable snapped.”
His hand tightened around hers.
“I lived.”
Beatrice said nothing.
“Afterward I stopped building plans that required people.”
Her chest hurt.
“Then why answer Marcus’s offer?”
Caleb looked at her.
“Because loneliness eventually becomes heavier than fear.”
Neither moved.
Beatrice’s hand remained in his.
“Caleb.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want your land either.”
He smiled faintly.
“Good.”
“But I may want the man on it.”
His eyes lifted.
Her face burned.
That had not been rehearsed.
Caleb stepped closer.
Slowly.
“May I kiss you?”
She almost laughed from nerves.
“We are married.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Beatrice looked at him.
The man everyone in Ridge Creek called frightening was asking permission to kiss his own wife.
“Yes.”
Caleb touched her cheek first.
Then kissed her.
Softly.
No urgency.