Clara learned his pattern.
Whenever he felt guilt, he tried to exhaust it through labor.
She stopped him when she could.
One evening she found him repairing a fence after dark.
“Samuel.”
“Almost done.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
She took the hammer.
He stared.
“Give that back.”
“No.”
“You are extremely comfortable stealing tools.”
“I married you.”
“That was apparently the beginning.”
She set the hammer down.
Samuel sighed.
“What?”
Clara touched his chest.
“You had a bad dream last night.”
He looked away.
“Nothing.”
“You said a name.”
Samuel went still.
“Whose?”
“Daniel.”
He closed his eyes.
Clara waited.
Samuel eventually said:
“A boy who rode with us.”
“How old?”
“Seventeen.”
Clara’s heart hurt.
“What happened?”
“I told him to scare a farmer.”
Samuel swallowed.
“He went too far.”
“Farmer fought back.”
“Daniel died.”
Clara said nothing.
Samuel continued.
“I blamed the farmer for years.”
“Truth was I sent a child to do a cruel man’s work.”
Clara touched his face.
“Samuel.”
“I can’t fix that.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
She did not lie.
No easy absolution.
“No.”
she repeated.
“But you can remember him honestly.”
Samuel’s eyes watered.
“And?”
“And stop making suffering your payment.”
He stared.
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Yes.”
Samuel looked toward the dark fence.
Clara continued.
“If guilt could resurrect people, you’d be a miracle worker.”
“It can’t.”
“What it can do is make you waste the life you still have.”
Samuel’s expression broke.
Clara held him.
He cried against her shoulder.
Rarely.
Fully.
Their first child came two years after the wedding.
A daughter.
Samuel was terrified throughout Clara’s pregnancy.
He had seen women die in childbirth.
Clara knew.
When labor began, he tried to hide panic by chopping wood.
He split enough for two winters.
Abraham finally said:
“If you swing that axe again, there’ll be no stump left.”
Samuel stopped.
Their daughter was born before dawn.
Healthy.
Dark hair.
Loud enough to offend neighboring livestock.
The midwife placed her in Samuel’s arms.
He stared.
Clara watched from bed.
Samuel’s eyes filled.
“You okay?”
she asked.
“No.”
Clara smiled.
“Good no or bad no?”
“I don’t know.”
The baby grabbed his finger.
Samuel went completely still.
Clara understood.
Leverage.
Samuel had spent most of his life avoiding anything the world could use against him.
Now his entire heart weighed seven pounds and could not hold up its own head.
He looked toward Clara.
“This is terrifying.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“You still wanted this?”