Evelyn smiled.
“Hello.”
Awkward.
James entered the house.
Saw the restored curtains.
Stopped again.
His fingers touched the blue edging.
“Mother made these.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn’s heart raced.
“I repaired them.”
James looked at Nathaniel.
“You let her?”
Nathaniel’s face tightened.
Evelyn answered first.
“He didn’t let me.”
“I asked whether he minded.”
James looked at her.
Then back at the curtains.
“They look right.”
That was all.
Evelyn exhaled.
The first week remained cautious.
James did not dislike her.
That might have been easier.
He observed.
Asked practical questions.
Why was she there?
How long?
Was Rose Nathaniel’s child?
No.
Did Nathaniel plan to marry her?
Nathaniel answered:
“I don’t know.”
James respected that answer more than false certainty.
One afternoon, Evelyn found him holding Rose.
Badly.
Rose screamed.
James panicked.
“What do I do?”
“Support her head.”
“I am.”
“Less like she’s a sack of flour.”
“I’ve never held one.”
“A sack?”
“A baby.”
Evelyn laughed.
She adjusted his arms.
Rose calmed.
James looked amazed.
“She stopped.”
“You’re less terrible now.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled.
Something relaxed.
Days later, Nathaniel laughed at supper.
Not polite laughter.
Full.
James stared.
Nathaniel noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
James looked toward Evelyn.
Later, she found the boy near the barn.
He said:
“Dad’s different since you came.”
Evelyn’s pulse changed.
“Different how?”
James thought.
“Like someone turned a light back on.”
She looked away.
“That’s a big thing to put on someone.”
James frowned.
“What?”
“I don’t want to be responsible for keeping him happy.”
He considered.
Then nodded.
“Mother used to say that.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“What?”
“That Dad thought loving people meant holding onto them too tightly.”
James shrugged.
“She told him happiness had to belong to him too.”
Evelyn smiled sadly.
“She sounds wise.”
“She yelled a lot.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Wisdom comes in different volumes.”
James smiled.
By the end of summer, Evelyn no longer thought of herself as a guest.
That frightened her.
Her things spread naturally.
A shawl on the chair.
Sewing basket by the window.
Rose’s blankets near the hearth.
A jar of hairpins upstairs.
Nathaniel began referring to “our pantry” without noticing.
Then Evelyn noticed.
Every time.
One evening, they sat at the kitchen table after James went upstairs.
Rose slept nearby.
Nathaniel reached across.
Covered Evelyn’s hand.
She looked down at their fingers.
Then at him.
His expression was nervous.
That amused her.
“You’ve faced stampeding cattle.”