“When did he pass?” Grace asks, her voice barely above a whisper now.
Eli glances at the table, a shadow flickering in his eyes. “Years ago. He died doing what he loved, out on the pastures.”
“You said he was a good man?”
“One of the best I’ve ever known,” he answers without hesitation.
And then I see Clara move. She shifts, detaching herself from the wall she’s clung to like it’s her anchor. Her movements are cautious, hesitant, like a deer stepping out into the open. She starts toward the table.
Eli turns his eyes toward her, and she stops, frozen. But he smiles, soft and welcoming, and gives her a small nod. The tension in her shoulders loosens, and slowly, with the grace I remember so vividly, she moves to the table. She slides into a chair at the far end, not taking her eyes off Eli, guarding herself from whatever this moment might become.
She wears a red dress that clings to her like memory itself, tender and unrelenting. Her blonde hair falls in loose waves down her back, catching the light in a soft shimmer that makes her seem both familiar and new. She carries the weight of years I was never given, and I can’t stop wondering what those years held for her. What joys, what sorrows, what pieces of her life I was never part of.
I want to go to her. To wrap my arms around her and feel the reality of her against me. I want to know if she still smells like wildflowers. I want her to seeme. I want to ask if she followed Grace here because of hope or just because of familiarity.
The air grows warmer. My skin tingles, not from heat, but from the courage blooming slowly in my bones. I’ve missed her with a hunger that years couldn’t starve out. I fell for her—so fast, so hard—in those few stolen weeks. Even knowing she belonged to someone else, my foolish heart fell for her. I carved out a place inside myself just for her, and it’s stayed lit all this time.
Then I see her hands as they rest lightly on the table.
No ring.
That bare finger hits me like a bolt from the blue—unexpected, electric, alive. It’s the sign I didn’t know I needed.
I push the pantry door open, just enough to slip through. I step into the kitchen, every nerve in my body crackling with fear, with longing. My feet move without thinking until I’m standing in the middle of the room.
Then I look up.
Straight into Clara’s eyes.
Time crashes to a halt. Her hands clench the table, her chest rising in sharp stutters, and tears well up—shimmering, ready to fall. God, I want to run to her. I want to hold her, wipe those tears away with my thumb, and never let her go again.
Eli sees it. He follows her gaze, then finds me standing there, silent, exposed.
“Grace,” Eli says smoothly, breaking the charged stillness. “I’m going to put on another pot of coffee. I hope you’ll stay.”
Just as the moment tightens, the sound of the back doorknob turning slices through the tension. Isaac steps inside, pausing when he notices the atmosphere. Grace turns her head, her breath halting mid-inhale.
“Oh, um, I would like that, Eli.” Grace’s voice stumbles over the words, eyes never leaving Isaac.
Isaac removes his hat and his eyes scan the room until they land on Grace. He stops. That look—I've seen it before. It’s the same look I’m sure I had the first time I saw Clara. Like he’s just caught a glimpse of something holy.
“I’m sorry, Eli. I didn’t know you had a guest.”
Eli chuckles, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Isaac, this is Grace Winthrop. Grace, meet Isaac Myers—my second in command here on the ranch.”
Grace’s voice trembles. “Hello, Isaac.”
“Hello, Grace.”
Their exchange is simple yet sweet, but I don’t watch them. My eyes are only for Clara. She’s watching Grace, smiling. That smile—it’s sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Her eyes are bright and alive, and just like that, the ache in my chest deepens.
I stand rooted in the galley of the kitchen, staring at Clara across the room. Her eyes return to me, and I can’t fight the pull I feel toward her. She always had that power over me. I would follow her like a happy puppy to the ends of the earth.
Isaac finally moves my way, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and filling it from the pot. He walks back to the table.
“Mind if I join you for a cup of coffee? I’ll just be here for a minute.”
Grace shifts in her seat as Eli motions to a chair. “Go right ahead. Grace is here to find out about the ranch and a hand that worked here.”
