“No objection?”
“Why would I object?”
“My first husband would have.”
“I am beginning to dislike a dead man.”
“You are late.”
Caleb smiled.
Eleanor deposited part in her own account in town.
Then used part to purchase three dairy cows.
Caleb objected fiercely.
“Cows?”
“Yes.”
“We don't need three cows.”
“We need one.”
“Then why three?”
“Because I intend to sell butter.”
“Eleanor.”
“What?”
“You moved to the mountains and became entrepreneurial.”
“I was always entrepreneurial.”
“Baltimore suppressed it.”
He looked at the cows.
“One of them hates me.”
“Good judgment.”
Caleb stared.
Eleanor laughed.
Life became busy.
Not easy.
Busy.
They argued.
About money.
About Caleb taking dangerous routes alone.
About Eleanor buying chickens without warning him.
Twenty-three chickens.
He counted.
Twice.
“You bought an army.”
“I bought eggs.”
“They are occupying the barn.”
“They live there.”
“It was my barn.”
“It is our barn.”
Caleb stopped.
Then smiled.
“Yes.”
“Our barn.”
That ended the argument.
Mostly.
Their physical relationship deepened at its own pace.
Caleb never became careless with consent.
Eleanor eventually teased him for asking too often.
He learned confidence.
She learned to say what she wanted instead of waiting for him to guess.
Sometimes what she wanted surprised her.
Sometimes him.
Their intimacy became playful.
Warm.
Private.
There were nights when Eleanor remembered the frightened man sharpening an unnecessary knife and could hardly reconcile him with the husband now capable of making her blush with a single look across the table.
Yet some part of him remained that nervous man.
Especially when she wore the pale-blue nightgown.
One evening in early summer, she stepped from behind the screen wearing it.
Caleb looked up.
Then immediately looked toward his knife.
Eleanor laughed.
“Do not start sharpening anything.”
He put both hands flat on the table.
“Wasn't planning to.”
“Liar.”
“Possibly.”
She approached.
He smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“You once complained I didn't.”
“Fair.”
She stood between his knees.
His hands settled at her waist.
No trembling now.
She kissed his forehead.
“Do you remember asking me to teach you?”
His eyes warmed.
“Yes.”
“How did I do?”
Caleb pretended to consider.
“Acceptable.”
Eleanor stared.
“Acceptable.”
“Room for improvement.”
She stepped away.
He caught her gently.
“Excellent.”
“Too late.”
“Exceptional.”
“Still too late.”
“Life-changing.”
She laughed.
“There.”
“Truth at last.”
He looked at her.
Something changed in his expression.
Not desire this time.
Emotion.
Quiet.
Deep.
“What?”