Page 27 of Mail Order Mercy

“I was angry,” she said. “About the account book. About Henry. About all the things you decided alone.”

“You had cause.”

“I did. But I was angrier because I wanted you to tell me I mattered more than your guilt.”

Albert looked at her. “You do.”

“I know that now.”

“Because I was foolish enough to fall into a river?”

“Because you were foolish enough to believe I married you only for flour and firewood.”

He was silent for a moment. “They were persuasive flour and firewood.”

Dorothy’s mouth trembled. “Albert.”

“I love you.”

The plainness of it stopped her breath. He did not dress the words in apology or obligation. He offered them as he offered everything that mattered—with both hands and no place left to hide.

“I loved Henry,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“Part of me always will.”

“I know that too.”

“And I love you. That is the part that frightened me.”

Albert closed his eyes. For one terrible moment she feared pain had taken him from the conversation. Then a tear slipped from the corner of his eye into his wet hair.

“Say it again,” he said.

“You are demanding for a man who cannot sit up without assistance.”

“Dorothy.”

She bent and pressed her forehead to his. “I love you, Albert Travis. Not because you were Henry’s friend, or because you brought wood and milk, or because the children need you. I love the man who came back after he failed, who made room for Henry while building himself into our home.”

His fingers closed weakly around hers. “That is fortunate. I am too bruised to court anyone else.”

Dorothy laughed through her tears. “You are never courting again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kissed him then. It was not their careful wedding kiss. It held fear, relief, anger, and the promise of every ordinary morning she had nearly lost. Albert lifted one hand to her cheek and let her decide how long it lasted.

*****

BY MORNING, HIS FEVER had not risen, his breathing was easier, and the children returned carrying enough food for a logging camp. Ella claimed most of it had been Belle’s idea. Belle arrived ten minutes later and claimed the opposite.

Albert remained in bed for three days and complained for all of them. On the fourth, he tried to stand while Dorothy was hanging clothes near the stove.

His knees buckled.

Dorothy caught him with one shoulder under his arm and enough displeasure in her voice to hold up a roof. “What did Belle say?”