Alleghany found herself heaving her breakfast into the mop bucket. It was a terrible lie to call such a thing morning sickness because she threw up in the afternoon, the evening, and at night too.

Jackson came into the kitchen, having heard the sound. Wordlessly his large, warm hand spanned across her forehead and then some. She bristled and recoiled under his touch. "You don't feel feverish." His hand fell back to his side. "I thought you'd drunk the last of the liquor?"

She glared. He sounded so patronizing, especially when she wouldn't be drinking so much if it weren't for him. "I'm saving it for a rainy day. I'm just plain sick."

He wouldn't have believed her except that she had perfect balance getting up off the floor and nothing else about her suggested that she was anything less than sober.

"You go lay down. I'll clean up," he told her.

"I'm fine. Just a touch of food poisoning probably. I thought one of the jars I opened smelled funny. I think I feel better already. You go ahead and go." She really didn't want to have to spend the day with him.

"No. I'll stay here with you today. It wouldn't be right for me to go off and leave you while you're sick. The traps can wait."

She saw the determined set of his jaw and she retreated from the room. At least if he thought her sick, he'd leave her alone. It might even be kind of nice to kick back and put her feet up. So she laid down on the couch. She felt safer there than laying in bed with him moving all around the house, which may have been irrational, but they'd never been together on the couch.

She watched as he did her chores. He did the dishes, the floors, and washed up the laundry. Though he must've done all these tasks before her arrival, she would've never thought he'd lower himself to do them again when he had her to do them.

She chuckled when he put on an apron to make lunch. Loud enough for him to hear, but he didn't get angry or remove the protective garment. She had thought him too masculine to have the guts to wear it. It surprised her in a way, but then he was doing a lot of things that surprised her lately. Things that set her teeth on edge as she waited for this new mask he wore to drop.

It was a simple lunch of leftover soup and grilled cheese he brought over to her. "I don't know if you feel up to eating yet. It's tea in the glass. Figured it'd be easy on your stomach."

She sat up and took the tray. He went back for his lunch and sat in the living room chair across from the couch like there was some kind of rule they had to eat together. She bit into her sandwich while he did his newfound habit of praying before he ate.

"Huh," she said when he opened his eyes. "You made my grilled cheese just the way I like it. Bacon between 2 slices of cheese and the bread heavily peppered. How'd you know?"

"I notice a lot of things about you."

She humphed. It would have been sweet coming from anyone else. From him, it just sounded wrong.

Jackson watched as she took careful bites, doing her best to ignore his presence. "Can I ask you something? What can I do to help you like me?" He'd asked everybody but her.

She stared at him only a moment before answering. "Nothing. You're just not my type. Pure and simple. You can't change who you are and I can't change who I am. And let's face it, our married life so far hasn't been the stuff romance is built on." He started to speak, but she interrupted. "And I know we both played our parts in that, but I think it's high time we cut our losses, don't you?"

"No. I think there's hope. I think it's going to take work, but that we could still have a good marriage."

"I don't. Too much has happened. And I'm miserable living on this godforsaken mountain."

"I'll move to the city."

She dropped her sandwich in the soup and had to fish it out. Then she looked up at him disbelievingly. "What? You'd do that? Be miserable your own self?"

"I wouldn't love it, but I'd do it. Once it makes sense to do it economically." There was more silence before he spoke again. "My mother ran away when I was a kid and never came back."

"And what does that have to do with me?" she asked angrily.

"Not a thing. I just want you to understand why I may have held on too tightly."

"May have? You forced yourself on me and you're holding me hostage even as we speak."

"Okay. I did. And I am sorry. If I could go back, I'd do things differently."

She studied him carefully before responding. "I think I almost believe you. The problem is life doesn't work that way, does it?"

He spun his spoon around in the soup a few times before he said, "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Go ahead. Doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Why do you value yourself so little that you would have meaningless relations with a stranger?"

"How dare you!"

"I mean that as a compliment. Any man who would love and leave you ain't worth your time."

"And I suppose you are? And anyway maybe it's me doing the leaving. Not them."

She wasn't interested in sharing. He could see that. Finished with his meal and not ready to start the dishes, he picked up a book the pastor had lent him and started reading.

That's why it surprised him when she finally answered a few minutes later. "Because sometimes I'm lonely even when I was a part of a large family. Sex can be a great comfort and make you feel alive."

"I can understand what it is to be lonely."

"Married people can be the loneliest people."

"Been lonely for a long time. Except I'm not lonely anymore. Now that I know God."

She seemed done talking for she looked away and he went back to his book.

"What are you reading?" she asked after a time.

"The Life of Christ," he said, holding it up for her to see the cover. "It brings the gospel to life and makes you feel like you're there with Jesus."

"Figures. Nothing I'd be interested in."

"I can get you some books. There's a small lending library. Not much selection but enough that you're bound to find something of interest. I've read most all of them. I'd be happy to recommend something if you tell me what you like to read."

"I'll think about it." And she did look mildly interested.

Had they finally found something they had in common? The love of books? A flicker of hope burned bright in his chest.

When he came to a good stopping place, he closed the book and stood up. He gathered up the dishes.

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? You're trying to get me in your bed again, ain't you? Well, I got news for you. I wouldn't sleep with you of my own free will if you were the last man on earth."

He surprised his own self when he didn't get angry. Instead, he felt only love and a deep sense of compassion for he could see her venom sprung from her unhappiness. "No, that ain't it. I'd like it, of course, if you were willing to open up to me in that way again, but I love you whether you ever return that love or not. Love drives me and it's something I'm still learning to do well, so I hope you'll be patient with me." He turned away and moved toward the kitchen.

"If you loved me, you'd let me go."

He flinched like he'd been struck as he wondered if she wasn't right.