“For everything else…”

His voice dropped.

“I wanted more.”

Martha forgot how to breathe.

“More?”

“You.”

The word broke through every cruel joke she had heard.

Every stare.

Every whispered insult.

Every year she had looked in mirrors and measured herself through other people’s contempt.

Martha’s eyes filled.

“You have terrible timing.”

“I know.”

“You could have said that months ago.”

“You were grieving.”

“I’m still grieving.”

“I know.”

“Thomas mattered.”

“I know.”

“I’ll always love him.”

“I know.”

Her voice shook.

“That doesn’t frighten you?”

Gideon shook his head.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not asking you to erase him.”

Martha closed the distance.

“Then what are you asking?”

Gideon’s scarred hand rose slowly.

He did not touch her until she leaned into it.

“To let me be next.”

Martha kissed him.

Gideon went completely still.

For perhaps two seconds.

Then his hands settled around her waist as if he had spent half his life learning how not to hold her.

Martha laughed against his mouth.

“You can move out of that ridiculous little bed now.”

Gideon pulled back.

“Certain?”

“No.”

He frowned.

She smiled.

“But you can ask again tonight.”

They married three weeks later.

Not in Oak Haven’s church.

Martha refused.

They married beneath the pines behind the cabin.

Caleb stood beside Gideon.

Sarah carried wildflowers.

Bess shouted “KISS HER!” before the preacher had finished.

Everyone laughed.

Even Martha.

Especially Martha.

That night, after the children were asleep, Martha stood in the bedroom where four beds had changed her life.

The children no longer slept there.

Caleb had moved into Gideon’s old room.

Sarah and Bess shared another.

The three little pine beds remained, mostly because Martha could not bear to remove them.

Gideon stood in the doorway.

“You all right?”

“Yes.”

She ran her hand over Bess’s old bedframe.

“I keep thinking about the day we came here.”

“So do I.”

“I thought that fourth bed meant you’d planned something.”

“I had.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“What?”

“To sleep badly.”

She smiled.

Then Caleb called from the hall.

“Ma?”

Martha sighed.

“What now?”

The boy entered carrying Thomas’s old tool chest.

“I found another thing.”

Martha froze.

Gideon froze.

Caleb set the chest on the floor.

“Please tell me it isn’t another mine.”

“No.”

“Another murder?”

“Don’t think so.”

“That’s encouraging.”

Caleb held out a small envelope.

Martha recognized Thomas’s handwriting.

Again.

Her chest tightened.

Where had it been?

“In the false bottom.”

Martha sat.

Gideon remained standing.

“Open it,” Caleb whispered.

Martha broke the seal.

There was only one page.

Martha—

If you found the claim papers, then Gideon probably helped you.

That stubborn fool will never tell you this himself, so I will.

Martha looked up.

Gideon’s face had gone white.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Gideon.”

“Keep reading.”

She did.

You once asked why Gideon stopped coming around after our wedding.

I lied.

I told you he preferred the mountains.

Truth is, he loved you.

Martha stopped.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes.

Gideon looked as though he wanted the floor to swallow him.

Caleb whispered, “Oh.”

Martha returned to the letter.

He loved you before I ever had the courage to court you.

He never told you because the night I said I intended to ask you to marry me, he stepped aside.