At last—at long last—everything snapped into place. An eerie clarity settled over her head, and Clara reached out to put a hand on his arm.
“No,” she said softly.
“Clara...” His face was twisted with pain.
“I can’t let you kill him.”
Yes, her mind said. She had saved him when she thought he was no more than another soldier, and she would save him again now.
“Don’t you see?” Cyrus pleaded. “You were right, Clara. You tried to keep the secret, and I understand. This dishonors your family.”
“It dishonors Solomon,” Clara said steadily. “You must know, Cyrus, that I gave shelter to both of them. Even when I knew what they were, I gave Jasper work so that he could tend to Solomon.”
“Clara, you have a kind heart. I forgive you. I won’t tell anyone.” He clasped her hands, and his eyes burned into hers.
It was all there, just as she had imagined it: the comfort and security of a friend. She would live near her family, and Cecelia would play with her children. The farm would be secure.
It was not enough. It never had been.
“Our life would be built on lies.”
“Does it matter? We could be happy together.”
“We could not.” Where the courage came from, she could not have said. She twisted the ring from her finger and turned his hand over to drop it into his palm. “You must forgive me, Cyrus. I could never be the wife you want.”
“You could,” he insisted.
She wavered. She would hurt him, and she had never wanted to hurt him. But at last, she saw something she had never noticed before. How his interest had changed, and when.
“Cyrus, tell me truly. How much of this is a boy’s infatuation?”
“I’m not a boy any longer and—”
“And how much,” Clara said, speaking over his protestations, “is your promise to Solomon?”
That stopped him. He closed his mouth, opened it to speak, and closed it once more.
“We’re not a good match,” Clara told him softly. “You thought of me fondly when we were children, and you thought you could love me—perhaps you even do. But someday you will wake up and realize I’m not your match. I know I am not.” He bowed his head, and she squeezed his hands. “Cyrus, you would protect me from all Solomon has done, but it is not your place. I am not a child any longer either. I will bear my grief and the trials of my family myself; I never needed you to carry that for me. You must make your peace with Solomon, and I will make my own.”
“Clara...” His voice trailed away.
“You don’t have to protect me anymore.”
“I see.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Then I will go. I wish you every happiness, Clara.” A glance at Solomon, and he left without stopping to retrieve his pistol, his steps heavy.
Clara looked down at her hands, too self-conscious, suddenly, to look around at her family.
“Solomon. Cecelia.” Millicent’s voice was implacable. “There are animals to be tended to. Come along.”
“Mother...”
“Your work will wait,” Millicent told her simply. Her eyes found Jasper’s, and she gave a tiny nod. “We’ll be waiting at the house.”
They were gone in what felt like a moment, and Clara found herself alone with Jasper.
Epilogue
“Clara.” The sound of his own voice startled him.