“Where did you get that?”

Jonas Hargrave pointed toward Rebecca’s suitcase.

She followed his gaze and went pale.

“The box belonged to my sister.”

Jonas felt the room tilt.

“Martha Hale?”

Rebecca nodded.

Three years earlier, Jonas had found a woman collapsed beside a mountain road. He had carried her to town, paid the doctor, and visited until she recovered enough to travel.

But months later, he received word that Martha had died.

“I knew your sister,” he whispered.

Rebecca gripped the table.

“Martha told me about a mountain man who saved her without asking anything in return. She said you were the kindest man she’d ever met.”

Jonas stared into the fire.

“Then she didn’t know me very well.”

“She knew you better than you think.”

Rebecca opened the wooden box.

Inside were Martha’s letters, a faded photograph, and a silver watch Jonas had given her to pay for her journey home.

“She never sold it,” Rebecca said. “She said it reminded her that good men still existed.”

Jonas could barely speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted you to choose me for myself. Not because you felt you owed my sister something.”

Rebecca hesitated.

“After Martha passed, I married a man who promised me safety. Instead, he took everything I earned and treated me like property.”

She pulled her sleeve over her wrist.

“When I finally escaped, I had nowhere to go. Then I found your marriage advertisement.”

Jonas lowered his head.

He had spent years believing the world was filled with people who wanted something from him.

Now a woman who had every reason to distrust men had traveled across the country because his kindness had once saved her sister.

“I tried to send you away,” he said quietly.

“Yes.”

“I was cruel.”

“Yes, Jonas. You were.”

He almost smiled at her honesty.

Then he rose, took a second blanket from the cupboard, and placed it beside her chair.

“You won’t have to prove your strength to earn a place here, Rebecca.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“And you won’t have to earn my kindness.”

For several moments, neither spoke.

Then Rebecca reached across the table and placed Martha’s silver watch in his hand.

“She wanted you to have this back.”

Jonas closed his fingers around it.

Outside, the mountain wind howled.

Inside, Rebecca asked softly, “Will you teach me how to chop firewood tomorrow?”

Jonas looked at the woman he had nearly abandoned.

“Tomorrow,” he replied, “we’ll start with something easier.”

“What?”

“Breakfast. Together.”

And for the first time in seven lonely years, Jonas Hargrave found himself looking forward to morning.