Phoebe nodded and didn’t question him when he tucked her hand away and reached for the other. The tingling was certainly gone, but that was because he had replaced it with heat that went all the way to her marrow. This time she withdrew her hand while he was still holding it. “Mm. Thank you.” She felt heat creep into her face and would have blamed her proximity to the stove if he had said something. He didn’t, though, and she was glad for not having to tell a lie that he would have seen through anyway.
Remington pitched another piece of wood into the stove and brushed his hands on his knees. “I could bring the mattress over and we could sit on it. Bound to be more comfortable than this floor.”
Because the damp and cold seemed to be seeping up through the floorboards, Phoebe agreed. She didn’t offer to help him and he didn’t ask. Her contribution was moving out of the way to give him enough space to throw down the mattress. She had already claimed her place on top of it when he returned with the canteens and the other saddlebag.
“Something to drink?” he asked, holding out a canteen.
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Something stronger?” He reached into the same saddlebag that had held the matches and came out with a silver flask. “Whiskey.”
“Yes, please.”
He opened the flask. The cap hung from the neck by a thin silver chain. “Ellie and Ben gave me this when I graduated.” He held it out to her. “It’s engraved.”
Phoebe tipped the flask to her lips and swallowed a generous mouthful before she examined the engraving. The flourishes were elegant and quite elaborate. “RFL.” She returned the flask. “What does the L stand for?”
“Lawrence. My mother’s maiden name.”
“Was she a city transplant like Fiona?”
“No. Born and raised in Frost Falls.”
“So this is what she knew, what she always knew.”
“This?” he asked. “You mean growing up in a small town that was barely settled when she was young, living on a ranch with no neighbors within shouting distance?”
“Yes.”
“Then, yes, it’s what she knew. In the case of Twin Star, it’s what she chose when she agreed to marry my father.”
Phoebe nodded slowly, faintly, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Do you ever wonder why Thaddeus married Fiona?”
“Never have.” He saw surprise flicker across her face. “Oh. You think it’s because I haven’t been curious, but that’s not quite right. I haven’t been curious because I’ve always known the answer. He loves her. Now, the why ofthatpuzzles me some, but I’m in no hurry to work it out. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing when a man as steady and considering as Thaddeus can lose his mind and surprise everyone who’s known him.”
“Is that what you thought? That he lost his mind?”
“Didn’t you?”
Phoebe’s smile was rueful. “I did, yes. I thought exactly that in the very beginning. I had some experience, you know, observing men abandon their good judgment where Fiona was concerned. Sometimes I thought they deserved what they got, which was to be led about by the nose and then dismissed, but there were some true gentlemen, and your father was one of them, men who were genuinely kind, mostly clear-headed, and would not allow Fiona to lead themanywhere they did not want to go. The men she could not control fascinated her, but they also frightened her. She did not so much dismiss them as make it intolerable for them to stay. Those men packed their own bags and left.”
Phoebe unfolded her legs and drew her knees toward her chest. Hunching, she hugged them. “You know why she married Thaddeus, don’t you?”
“Well, it wasn’t because she lost her mind.”
“Oh, I see. You think it was a consequence of careful calculation. Thaddeus has money, and Fiona rarely does, so that must be it. He’s not merely fine-looking, he’s distinguished, and that would have been a factor for someone like Fiona who finds pleasure in being accompanied by a handsome gentleman. He rarely drinks and never to excess—another point in his favor—and he has an even temperament, never once demonstrating the urge to raise his hand even when provoked. You probably assume Fiona’s time in the theater was nearing an end, that she recognized she would have to take secondary roles or remove herself entirely. That assumption would be wrong. She had years of work ahead of her, and she walked away from all the offers to be with Thaddeus.Nowdo you know why she married him?”
“For love? Is that what you want me to believe?”
“You don’t have to believe it, but it’s true.”
Remington extended his hands toward the warmth of the stove. “I want to think about it. You’re right about some of the assumptions I made, but I don’t know that it matters. You saw the matchstick when I struck it. The flame was hot and bright and brief. It burned itself out.”
Phoebe presented no counterpoint. She fell silent, and when he offered her another drink from the flask, she refused it. Rain beat relentlessly against the roof. Sometimes the wind shifted and raindrops splattered the window, falling heavily against the glass like batter on a hot griddle. Remington got up twice, once to look out the window, and the second time to open the door and peer up at the sky. He had no commentary on what he saw, but Phoebe had the impression that he was not encouraged.
“Why did you come, Phoebe?”
She gave a small start when he spoke after so long a silence. Maybe if she had not been mesmerized by the fire and the rain’s steady tattoo, she would have understood what he really was asking and answered differently. What she did, though, was regard him with some confusion and said, “You know why. You told me to come.”
