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not well enough for the long walk back to Juneau. She didn’t ever again want to plunge back into snow that reached her waist, but she would think of something. She must think of something. She glanced behind her and saw that Noah was wiping the soap off his face, looking at her.
    â€œGood morning,” he said. The outer corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile, genuinely happy to see her.
    It was such a domestic thing to say. Had anyone ever said that to her before? She felt anger overtake her. Quickly turning away she said in a stiff voice, “Before you go and ask how I’m feeling, let me tell you. I’m stiff and sore from lying down so much, and I don’t smell very good either. I’m hungry and I need a bath. Is there any possibility I can get a bath?”
    Noah’s brow creased and with a wavering smile he said, “Sure, I have a tub. I’ll fill it up for you and set it in front of the fire. It will take awhile to warm though, so if youwant to go over to the table, I’ll cook you some breakfast while you wait.”
    She gritted her teeth in frustration. He was so good! So unable to understand her response that she wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he be like everyone else and shout back at her? She would know how to respond to that. Instead he made her feel churlish and whiny by being so patient.
    â€œThank you,” she said in a low voice instead.
    Noah only nodded and set about getting her breakfast of sourdough biscuits and gravy on the table, all the while talking to her like … she was his friend, like she was his equal.
    â€œI’ll need to go back out to the smokehouse for some more meat today. It’s a good thing the storm finally blew itself out. We’re running low on wood, too.”
    His list of his chores made Elizabeth feel guilty. Her bath would no doubt put him behind schedule, but he wasn’t complaining. He never seemed to protest the ebb and flow of life’s changing moments.
    â€œI should get back to Juneau.” It sounded harsh in the face of his kindness, but she couldn’t help it she was disrupting his life.
    He paused in the act of making biscuits—something she couldn’t help but feel she should be doing for him.
    â€œI’ve been thinking about that.” He sounded hesitant, like he knew she wouldn’t like it. “I’m not sure you’re ready to travel yet.”
    â€œNo, maybe not yet. But soon.”
    He nodded. “Let’s get you a bath set up. We can figure out your plans later.”
    He clearly didn’t want her to leave. She pondered it, wondering what he might want with her. What could a man who had everything want from a woman like her? But she remained quiet, watching him hurriedly eat his breakfast and then rush out to fetch a big metal tub stored in the rafters of his barn. She watched quietly as he hauled it through the door, placed it in front of the fire and then set to work hauling buckets of snow. The snow piled high in the tub made her shiver. It would probably take some time to melt, all that snow.
    Spearing another forkful of fluffy biscuit and swirling it in the brown gravy, she took a bite, a spectator from her comfortable seat at the kitchen table. His cooking was really good, just enough salt and not a lump in sight. She had watched him prepare the dough for the biscuits using his clay pot of sourdough starter to make the bread rise. Every morning he mixed the dough, let it rise, and then rolled it out and cut it into biscuits. Coming fresh from the oven for breakfast they were wonderful, light and flaky and oozing with butter. She knew the importance of a good batch of starter for sourdough; it could last forever and keep a person alive on the trail. His biscuits were just about the best she’d ever had, which again brought to mind this puzzle—he was just too perfect. There had to be a chink in that shining armor somewhere, and she was going to find