An ache sits low in my soul. “You named him Sebastian? Does he…does he live in Cheyenne?”
She lowers her gaze. “He passed, Marcel. I’m so sorry.”
I feel tears fill my eyes. “Oh.” I swipe at my cheeks. “Did he have a good life? Did he suffer at all?”
She exhales, “He was a wonderful man, Marcel, and he had a beautiful life. He became a teacher at an elementary school. He was gentle with the children and patient. He married young, a sweet woman named Anna who worked at the Post Office. Grace was their only child. He loved them both with his whole heart.”
Her eyes glisten, the memories trembling on her lashes. “When it happened, it was sudden. I promise you that.”
I look up to the ceiling, fighting the tears. “I’ll meet him someday, when I move on. God, I thought I was only missing you all these years, I just never?—”
She reaches for my hand, shaking her head. “You don’t have to wait for that, Marcel. He still lingers in Cheyenne. People there talk about him. About the man who can be seen near the school when the sun goes down, or the warmth that gathers by the classroom window in the mornings. The children leave little stones on the steps. They say he keeps them safe.”
Her eyes meet mine, “He’s there, watching over the students, over Grace. We could visit him.”
I swallow hard, tears blurring my vision. “I would like that.”
She tightens her hand around mine, “I’m so sorry, Marcel.”
“Clara, you did what you needed to do. Just promise to tell me more?” I say, softer this time. “Stay. Stay here at the ranch with me.”
Her breath catches. “You want me to stay? Even after all of this?”
“I know it sounds foolish. I know the years are gone. But they stole so much from us, and I can’t let time steal this too. Not now. Not when I finally have you in front of me again.” I rise, my chair scraping against the floor, and take a step closer. “Please. Just stay. Tonight. Tomorrow. As long as you can bear it.”
Her lips part, her tears falling freely. She presses a hand to her chest like she’s holding her heart together.
I reach out, hovering just short of touching her. “Don’t go back to the shadows, Clara. Not when I’ve spent so many years waiting for you to walk back into the light.”
The room feels brittle, as though one wrong word might splinter it into silence and dust. In the hush, I sit, waiting. Clara’s fingers tighten around the letter until the paper creases, her knuckles pale. When she speaks at last, her voice is barely there, a tremor threaded through it.
“Stay?” she echoes, almost to herself. She shakes her head, a faint tremble running through her shoulders. “Marcel, I…I don’t want to be a burden. You’ve built a life here with Eli and Isaac and the ranch. I’d only be in the way.”
I step closer, closing the space that’s always felt too wide between us. My voice stays soft but steady. “Clara, you could never be a burden. Not to me. Not in this life. Not in whatever comes after. You being here would be the best gift to me.”
Her eyes rise to meet mine, and for an instant I see the girl from the Founders’ Dance—the one who wanted to run, who wanted to choose me but couldn’t. The years have sharpened her edges, taught her caution, but beneath it all she is still her.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispers, like she’s testing me, daring me to prove her wrong.
“I do,” I say, the words catching in my chest. “You could plant yourself right here in the middle of this kitchen and refuse to move an inch, and it would still be the best thing that’s happened to me since I crossed.”
Her lips part, her breath catching, but then her gaze flicks toward the hall. Concern darkens her features. “You don’t mean…we won’t be sharing a bed.”
Before I can respond, Eli lets out a laugh, shaking his head as he dries his hands on a rag. “Lord, have mercy, Clara. You looklike you’re about to scandalize the entire county. There’s a dozen empty rooms in this house. No one’s tossing you into the same sheets.”
Clara’s cheeks flame as she darts a glance at me. I raise both hands in mock surrender, a smile tugging at my lips. “He’s right. I won’t push that on you. I only meant to stay under this roof. That’s all. Nothing more.”
For a long moment, she studies me, the suspicion in her eyes slowly giving way to something softer. Then she exhales. “All right. I’ll stay.”
Eli chuckles again, slipping past us toward the hall. “That’s how it always starts.”
Clara shoots him a look, but I can’t stop the smile breaking across my face. She’s here. She said yes. And after decades of waiting, I’ll sleep knowing she’s under the same roof.
Help
Clara 1923
By the timeIrene’s motorcar rattles back into the long driveway of my aunt’s house, my bones feel as if they’ve turned to water. The ride with Marcel plays on a loop in my mind—the brush of his hand steadying me from the saddle, the way his eyes lingered like they could read my every thought, the words I wish I hadn’t wanted to hear but now can’t let go of.
