Chapter 47
Not peaceful.
Quiet.
Calvin lay back against the pillow, breathing carefully. Henrietta began restoring order to the table. Papers had landed beneath chairs, beside the stove, under the bed. Each one she recovered felt suddenly fragile.
After several minutes Calvin spoke.
“You should have told me.”
Henrietta knew what he meant.
She did not look at him.
“So should you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the one you earned.”
He accepted the blow without protest.
She placed a statement atop the others.
Calvin watched her.
“The money was yours.”
“Yes.”
“Your father didn’t give it to me.”
“No.”
“And you let me think he did.”
Henrietta stopped.
“I told you the money could be transferred. You never asked whose it was.”
His face tightened.
“That sounds like something I would do.”
“It sounds exactly like something you did.”
He looked away.
Snow hissed against the glass.
Henrietta rested both hands on the table. “Why does it matter now?”
Calvin took a long breath. “Because I used it against you.”
She said nothing.
“At the wedding. Here. Every day after.” His voice roughened. “I looked at you and saw the price of keeping Broken Spur.”
Henrietta’s throat tightened.
He continued before she could stop him.
“I told myself that made everything simple. You needed a husband. I needed money. Papers were signed. Nobody owed anybody tenderness.”
“Except I never asked for tenderness.”
“I know.”
“I asked not to be treated with contempt.”
“I know.”
She turned then.
Calvin’s face was pale with pain, but he did not hide behind it.
“I told myself you were spoiled,” he said. “Then you cleaned this place. I told myself you would quit when your hands blistered. You didn’t. I told myself the accounts were none of your concern, then you found what I had missed.”
Henrietta’s grip tightened on the table.
“You do not get to make today erase those months.”
“I know.”
“You humiliated me because you were ashamed of yourself.”
“I know.”
“You let a bargain excuse cruelty.”
His eyes did not leave hers.
“I know.”
The absence of defense made anger difficult to hold cleanly.
Henrietta looked down at the papers.
“I don’t know what to do with you when you agree.”
Calvin’s mouth shifted.
“Mercer says I’ve always been inconvenient.”
“That is the kindest diagnosis he has made.”
A sound escaped Calvin that might have become laughter if his leg had not begun throbbing again. His face tightened, and the moment passed.