Seven Day Mail-Order Bride

Lazy Day

Clara shoved at Noah's chest and pulled away.

Hard.

Like distance might fix what she had just done.

She rolled off the bed, breath uneven, dragging her nightgown over her body with hands that didn't feel steady anymore.

"This was wrong," she said quickly, like speed might make it true. "I was always supposed to marry my Elijah."

Silence settled behind her.

Heavy.

Then,

"It's my Elijah now?"

Noah's voice was quiet.

But it cut.

Clara froze just long enough to tie the ribbon at her front.

Then shook her head.

"This doesn't change anything," she said, forcing the words out. "You still don't know me."

That wasn't true.

They both knew it.

The bed creaked.

Noah was up before she reached the door.

His hand caught hers.

Warm.

Steady.

Unyielding.

"Clare," he said low, like he was holding onto something already slipping. "You wrote me first."

The words hit.

Harder than she wanted.

Clara yanked her hand free.

"It doesn't matter now."

She didn't look at him.

Couldn't.

Because if she did,

She might hesitate.

And she couldn't afford that.

Her chest rose sharply.

"There's something bigger than this," she said. "You and him, both of you, you die in seven days if we don't change it."

The room went still.

Noah didn't laugh.

Didn't question it.

Didn't call her crazy.

He just... absorbed it.

The hurt in his eyes didn't disappear.

It shifted.

Made room.

He nodded once.

Slow.

Controlled.

"Then we'll change it."

No argument.

No hesitation.

Just certainty.

Clara swallowed.

Nodded.

Then turned,

and ran.

She didn't stop.

Not for breath.

Not for thought.

Just forward.

Because if she slowed down,

If she let herself think about what she had just done,

She might turn back.

And she couldn't.

Not now.

Not after choosing.

Elijah's door stood slightly open.

She pushed inside without knocking.

The room was dark.

Quiet.

Still.

Elijah lay exactly where she had left him.

One arm thrown over his head, the blanket kicked down like nothing in the world had ever asked anything of him beyond sleep.

Clara stopped for a second.

Just looking.

At him.

At the man she had chosen.

The man who had no idea what was coming.

Who had no idea she had just,

Her throat tightened.

"No," she whispered.

Don't go there.

Don't think about it.

Just,

stay.

She moved quickly, slipping back into the bed, into the warmth he'd left behind.

The mattress shifted.

Elijah stirred.

Not fully awake.

Just enough.

His arm moved without thought, finding her, pulling her close like it belonged there.

Like she belonged there.

"Mm," he murmured. "You come back already?"

Clara pressed into him, her face against his chest, breathing him in like it could steady her.

"I'm here," she whispered.

He didn't question it.

Didn't ask.

Didn't pull away.

His hand settled at her waist, his breathing evening out again almost instantly.

Trusting.

Completely.

Clara's chest tightened.

Because he didn't know.

Didn't know where she had gone.

Didn't know who she had been with.

Her fingers curled into his shirt.

"I won't let you die," she whispered.

So soft it barely existed.

But she meant it.

For him.

For Noah.

For both of them.

Even if it tore her in half.

**********

"You could trade her for two mules and a good horse and get more use out of 'em," Mr. Jenkins called with a grin.

"Now, Norton," his wife said, swatting his arm, "you're just sore he found himself a pretty one."

She pressed a warm bundle into Clara's hands.

"Biscuits and jam," she said, then leaned in, placing a soft kiss on Clara's cheek. "Come back again. I'll teach you more than just vittles."

Clara smiled.

"Mary Ellen, thank you. Truly."

Children tore past them in a blur of noise and laughter, chasing each other across the yard.

Clara watched them longer than she meant to.

The noise.

The life.

Her chest tightened.

Chaos wasn't quiet.

It wasn't written in neat lists of names.

It looked like this.

Alive.

The wagon creaked as they headed back, the afternoon sun dipping lower.

Elijah settled beside her with easy familiarity.

Noah took the reins.

Clara sat between them.

Exactly where she was supposed to be.

And exactly where she didn't know how to stay.

"Thank you for bringing me," she said, leaning into Elijah, brushing a kiss against his cheek.

"Well," Elijah said with a grin, "can't take all the credit. Noah figured if we left you behind, we'd come home to nothin' but charcoal."

Clara glanced toward Noah.

His jaw was set.

Controlled.

Nothing in his expression gave anything away.

"We've got pork and beans tonight," he said.

Like nothing had changed.

Like everything had.

Elijah's arm came around her shoulders.

"We'll handle the cookin'. Your biscuits are effort enough."

Clara smiled.

Then her gaze drifted back.

To the Jenkins' place.

To Mary Ellen.

To the children still running through the yard.

To Norton, laughing as he called after them.

Her fingers tightened around the napkin.

One of them.

At least one, if not all.

On the list.

Her throat closed.

She didn't say it out loud.

Didn't look at Noah.

But she felt it.

And a second later,

So did he.

Noah's grip tightened on the reins.

Just slightly.

Then eased again.

A breath left him.

Quiet.

Controlled.

And he clicked his tongue, urging the horses forward.