Ruth smiled.
“You admitted that eventually.”
“I was thirty-four.”
“You were an idiot.”
“Yes.”
She reached for his hand.
“Did you marry me because of my father?”
Jonah looked at her.
After forty years, the question no longer carried pain.
Only curiosity.
“Partly.”
Ruth nodded.
He continued.
“I saw his daughter being destroyed by people I already suspected had killed him.”
“That mattered.”
“Yes.”
“I thought I could give you safety.”
“Arrogant.”
“Very.”
“I also thought you were beautiful.”
Ruth raised an eyebrow.
“Thought?”
Jonah smiled.
“Dangerous question.”
She squeezed his hand.
“What else?”
“You were angry.”
“That attracted you?”
“Yes.”
“Strange man.”
“You looked at people like you could see exactly how disappointing they were.”
Ruth laughed.
“I liked that.”
“Anything romantic?”
“I thought about kissing you the second time we spoke.”
“What stopped you?”
“You looked like you might bite.”
“Reasonable.”
Jonah lifted her hand and kissed it.
Ruth looked toward the barn.
“Do you regret not staying that first night?”
“No.”
She turned.
“Really?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if I had stayed, you might always have wondered whether I expected payment.”
Ruth thought.
He was right.
Jonah continued.
“And leaving gave you the chance to call me a coward.”
“That was valuable.”
“Apparently.”
She leaned against him.
Outside, snow fell.
Like the night they married.
Jonah said:
“You know Daniel’s letter was wrong about one thing.”
Ruth looked up.
“What?”
“He said not to marry you out of debt.”
“Yes.”
“I think debt brought me to your porch.”
Ruth listened.
“But it isn’t why I stayed.”
Her throat tightened.
“Why did you?”
Jonah looked almost offended by the question.
“You know.”
“I like hearing it.”
He sighed dramatically.
“Manipulative.”
“Yes.”
Jonah smiled.
“Because I loved you.”
Ruth rested her head against his shoulder.
“Good answer.”
“Forty years of practice.”
They sat until the candles burned low.
Years later, when Jonah died, he did it in that room.
Not dramatically.
No final speech.
He woke before dawn.
Looked at Ruth.
Squeezed her hand.
Then his breathing slowed.
She knew before calling anyone.
For the first time since their wedding night, Ruth looked toward the barn and knew Jonah would never sleep there again.
Grief came quietly.
That surprised her.
She had expected something violent.
Instead it was absence.
His boots by the door.
His hat on the peg.
The mare waiting for a man who would not arrive.
A place beside her in bed becoming too cold.
Ruth buried him near the hill where his first wife already rested.
People wondered whether Ruth minded.
She did not.
Love was not a competition between graves.
Jonah had loved before her.
She was glad.
It meant his heart had practiced.
On the day after the funeral, Ruth returned to the bedroom.