"I know what you meant."
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "I'll pay everything through the end of the month. More if there's anything still owed."
Rachel looked at him. Every dollar she was owed. That was what he offered.
Fair wages. A ride. Respect. The decent ending to an employment agreement.
Her chest tightened. "That won't be necessary."
"It is if you've earned it."
There it was. Earned. Rachel looked down.
Matthew mistook the silence. "If you want to go back to Cold Water, I'll drive you."
"I can arrange a ride."
"I'd rather do it myself."
"Why?"
The question came too quickly. Matthew stopped. Rachel immediately wished she could take it back, but it remained in the room.
Why? Why would you drive me? Why do you care? Why won't you ask me to stay?
Matthew looked at her for a long moment. His jaw moved once. "Because I brought you here."
Rachel felt something inside her sink. Of course.
Responsibility. Not desire. Not belonging. Responsibility.
She nodded. "That makes sense."
Matthew heard something in her voice. "Rachel, it's late. Are you angry?"
"No."
That was almost true. Anger would have been easier. Matthew looked at the packed bag.
"I don't want you thinking you're being put out."
"I don't."
"If this is about money—"
"It isn't."
"Langley?"
"No."
"Did somebody say something?"
Rachel's eyes lifted to his. Emily's words came back. He'll need a proper wife.
Rachel said, "No one said anything that matters."
Matthew knew that answer for what it was. He took one step closer, then stopped again. His restraint, once something she valued in him, suddenly felt unbearable.
"You don't have to leave because the worst of the work is done."
Rachel gave a small, tired smile. "That's usually when people leave, Matthew."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I came here because you needed a cook."
"Yes."
"You needed somebody to fix the stores."
"Yes."