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Ed rose to follow. For a moment, his eyes met Rebekah’s. His apology would have to wait a little longer.

* * *

Darkness had settled over the homestead hours ago, but only in the past hour had the endless trips outside slowed.

Rebekah moved to stand by the kitchen window as the chorus of crickets chirped on.

She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, weariness threatening to overtake her.

The children’s fevers had broken, but Rebekah was worried for Kaitlyn.

If her fever kept on, that couldn’t be good.

Ed must be as exhausted as she felt, maybe even more so. Yet he’d gone over to see about the animals at her aunt and uncle’s place after most of the sick had drifted off to sleep.

The aroma from the coffeepot she’d placed on the stove earlier told her it was ready.

Reaching up on her tiptoes, she pulled down two coffee cups.

The front door closed with a creak, and soft footsteps approached in that easy cadence she knew so well.

Only this time, they stirred a sense of comfort in her instead of bristles.

“All the animals were fine at your uncle’s place. I checked on ours too. All good.” Ed spoke in low tones. He threw a glance over his shoulder to where the family slumbered. “Think I should go for the doctor?”

“Everyone has been calm this past hour. For the most part.” There had been that last trip with Tillie. But Ed appeared so weary that she’d hate for him to ride out without a chance to rest. “At least they can sleep.”

His blue eyes fastened on her as he moved to wash his hands. “It’s the fever I’m worried about.”

Rebekah poured the coffee in silence. Nothing in her dared voice her own concerns. Ed needed good news. “You’ve done all you can for now. Perhaps the fever will break in the night.”

He didn’t answer as she moved from the kitchen out to the table. As she sat, she placed one cup opposite her before taking a sip of her own coffee. A rustling sound escaped the kitchen. Maybe Ed had finally decided to get a bite to eat.

In a matter of minutes, he emerged with a plate of cheese sandwiches. He blinked as if startled to see her still there, waiting at the table.

Where did he think she might’ve gone? It was a sign of his exhaustion and worry that she’d surprised him.

“I figured you might’ve taken one of the girls’ empty beds upstairs.

Want a sandwich?” He scooted the plate across the table at her as he sank into a chair.

Only then did his eyes shift from cup to cup, realizing she’d made him coffee.

The corner of his mouth lifted as if in surprise that she’d thought of him.

She took the offered sandwich as he sipped the coffee, then she pushed the plate back his way.

The softness of the bread blended with the cheese to satisfy the hunger she hadn’t stopped to recognize before.

They’d worked in tandem all afternoon. Most of the night too.

Mixed with the pleasant food was pleasant company.

Odd how agreeable his company had become in so short a time.

The irritation that had stung so badly this morning had faded as they’d worked together.

“This sandwich is perfect.” She watched him smile a weary smile as she took another bite. This comfort in someone’s presence. This knowing how to work together. It was what her imagination conjured up for her every time she wrote a letter to Isaac. Every time she read his responses.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something.

” Ed shifted in his seat. Was he uncomfortable?

He scanned those sleeping in the living area as if to be sure they were all still deep in their slumber.

With the cup at his lips, he took another sip, then leveled his eyes on her. “About that incident in school.”

“Do we really need to talk about it?” That day intruded on the peace of this moment, threatening to evaporate the camaraderie between them and making it the last thing she wanted to discuss.

Ed stared into his coffee cup, fidgeting it back and forth before raising his gaze again. The faint light of the lamp softened his features. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. I wasn’t at my best back then.”

“Not that day, at least.” Before she could go on, he held up a hand.

“I always felt like I was in Isaac’s shadow.

When you started reading your story, all I saw was Isaac being made out to be a hero again.

” His jaw worked in a different sort of way.

Not like when being forced to do a task he didn’t want to do.

More like trying to hold on to a piece of himself to keep it from escaping for her to see.

“I laughed to hide my hurt. It was never meant to hurt you. And I’m sorry for it. ”

Her stomach dropped as she registered the fear in his face as he glanced at his family again. Here was the evidence that he was only human. He’d made a mistake.

As they sat together in the night’s quiet, all those years of promising herself she’d never forgive Ed McGraw faded away as so much foolishness. The mistake of a hurting boy clashed against the tenderness of the man sitting across from her now.

“You were just a kid.” She’d made her own mistakes, hadn’t she? Played her own part in this ongoing spat?

“Still. It wasn’t right.” He ducked his head.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, she imagined him carrying her letters in his saddlebag after picking them up in town to unwittingly deliver them to his brother who rode the herd.

Imagined him bringing Isaac’s letters back in return.

Always doing whatever his family needed.

This Ed she’d seen today was so unlike the image she’d carried for so long.

This man had ridden around with her all day as she’d pursued her story, then returned home to a sick family and put off sleep to care for them.

This man had chosen to offer a truce. How could she not freely give him the forgiveness he asked for?

Rebekah straightened up in her chair and reached her hand out over the table. “Friends?”

A slight smile tilted up one side of his mouth. He swiped his hand across his britches to dust off crumbs from his sandwich, then lifted it to wrap around hers. A feeling beyond warmth, almost a tingle, jolted from his hand to hers. “Friends.” Her stomach tumbled even further.

Ed withdrew his hand slower than she’d expected, leaving her to contemplate this strange new sensation.

With his eyes averted, he cleared his throat. “You best try to get some rest. I’ll ride for the doctor in the morning.”