She wrote the question in the notebook anyway.
He answered:
For our child. And for you.
Rosalie looked at him.
She thought about the day her father had taken fifty dollars and handed her future to a stranger.
She remembered the snow, the cracked mirror, and the fear that had followed her to the church.
If someone had told her then that the marriage would lead her to a man who would become her closest friend, she would never have believed it.
But love had not arrived as a sudden miracle.
It had grown through small acts of respect.
A separate bedroom.
A warm meal.
A notebook placed in her hands.
A promise kept.
And the courage to face a painful truth together.
She leaned toward Gideon and kissed him.
He touched his forehead to hers.
For a long moment, they sat in the spring sunlight without writing a single word.
