As they crested the final hill, the ranch spread out before them. The main house was modest but sturdy, built from local timber with a stone foundation. Margaret had insisted on the wraparound porch, saying a home needed a place to watch sunsets and welcome visitors. Now the porch looked empty, forlorn, like it was waiting for someone who would never come home. It's beautiful, Clara said quietly, surprising him.
He glanced at her. It needs work. Haven't had time for repairs since he stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence. Since your wife died," Clara completed for him, her tone matter-of-fact rather than sympathetic. Mr. Morrison explained the situation quite thoroughly.
"Your wife's death, your debts, your need for someone to care for your daughter. He made it clear that this arrangement benefits us both." "And does it?" The question came out harsher than he intended. "Benefit you?" Clara turned to look at him fully for the first time since the ceremony. I suppose that depends on your definition of benefit, Mr. Walker. I keep my position, avoid the shame of being dismissed for the crime of being unmarried, and gain a roof over my head that doesn't come with daily reminders of my failure to secure a husband through conventional means.
Whether that constitutes a benefit or merely a different form of imprisonment remains to be seen. Her honesty was brutal, refreshing, and somehow exactly what he needed to hear. At least they weren't going to pretend. "Then we understand each other," he said. "I believe we do." As they pulled up to the house, Ethan saw the curtains twitch in the front window.
Mrs. Molly O'Brien, his housekeeper, peered out with undisguised curiosity. He'd sent word ahead about the marriage. No point in shocking the poor woman entirely, but he could imagine the thoughts running through her head. Molly emerged onto the porch as they stopped, her weathered face carefully neutral. She was a widow herself, had been working for them since Sophie was born.
She'd been Margaret's friend, and Ethan knew this sudden marriage must feel like a betrayal to her, too. "Mr. Walker," she said, nodding. Then to Clara, "Mrs. Walker." Clara flinched at the title, but recovered quickly. "Please call me Clara. I suspect we'll be working closely together and formality seems unnecessary.
Molly's eyebrows rose slightly. If you wish, ma'am. The ma'am was pointed, a subtle reminder of boundaries. Clara, to her credit, didn't react. Ethan helped Clara down from the wagon again, noting how she pulled away from his touch as soon as possible.
Molly, would you show Clara to her room? Her room? Molly looked confused. But I prepared the master bedroom. The spare room, Ethan said firmly.
The one at the end of the hall. Understanding dawned in Molly's eyes, followed by something that might have been pity. Of course, Mr. Walker. This way, ma'am. Clara followed Molly into the house, leaving Ethan alone with his thoughts and the bitter taste of his new reality.
He unhitched Zeus, his movements automatic after years of practice, trying not to think about how different this homecoming was from what he'd imagined. When he'd married Margaret, they'd barely made it through the front door before he'd swept her into his arms, both of them laughing as he carried her over the threshold. They'd been young, in love, full of dreams about the life they'd built together. Now those dreams were buried with her in the cemetery on the hill, and he was left with this hollow substitute. Inside, the house felt different already.