The backyard of our new home spread out before me, stretching over a gentle slope then unfolding into a pasture. Beyond that, the land melted into a quiet hush of sugar maple trees and smudgy, rolling hills in every direction.

Two mares stood in the pasture, silent and watchful, unbothered by the eerie hush of falling snow. I stood at the edge of our veranda, weightless snowflakes brushing my cheeks and hands. I wondered if the horses were sleeping… Do horses stand when they sleep or lie down?

The smell of manure was strong, despite the cold, but the odor didn’t bother me. The realtor had warned us when we walked the place, but the pasture smelled just fine to me—like farmland and fresh air. Like a fresh start for my tiny two-person family…

Asher and I had lived here for nearly a month now, but still, I hadn’t adjusted. Half our belongings were stowed away in boxes, pushed aside in the deep dark corners of our three-bedroom farmhouse.

It’s perfect, Asher told the real estate agent, before turning to me. Isn’t it perfect, Rosalee?

What else could I say but ‘yes’, in that moment? I loved the farmhouse; this was true. And the way Asher’s eyes lit up when he was excited about something, whether it was a big case he was working on at the law firm, or a story he’d read online; his eyes, warm and brown like pecans, would grow smiley and wide, like a kid bubbled over with Christmas morning delight.

Later, as the real estate agent typed up the deal, Asher repeated those words: It’s perfect. Adding this: For now.

Us and a couple of kids. The perfect place to raise a family. Until we want to have even more kids, and we eventually outgrow the place, he had said.

I shivered at the memory. Yes, the house was perfect, and I loved my fiancé, but the thought of having so many kids we would soon outgrow it? That wasn’t in the plans for me.

I loved the solitude of Moon County. The earthiness of dirt and manure. You could drive from one side of town to the other in thirty minutes, counting the crows and telephone wires, pointing out the silos and family farms that had obviously been around for generations. One generation gave way to the next, a bunch of knock-offs walking around, replacing the youth that came before them. We were all different here, yet all the same.

I loved it here, but also—I didn’t feel settled. Not yet.

“You’re freezing.” Asher wrapped his thick arms around me from behind, squeezing me close to his chest. He smelled like aftershave and his favorite coffee, an over-priced bourbon barrel aged brew. He was wearing his thick, black, terrycloth robe. But still, I could feel his erection as he held me close. I shivered and pressed up against him.