His breathing became jerky, and his eyelids twitched. Was he dreaming? Now his cheek twitched, his fingers, his foot. Suddenly he exhaled, long and low, and his eyes opened.

Before she could look away, his gaze met hers. Dark eyebrows hiked up, and his face fell.

So did Leah’s heart. Was this how her biblical namesake felt on her bridal morning when Jacob discovered he’d married a woman he didn’t love? “Behold, it was Leah.”

Clay snuffled and pushed up to sitting, dragging the sheet across his lap. “G’morning.”

“Good morning.” She kept her voice cheery.

He leaned his head back against the wall. “Had that dream again.”

“Just now?”

“So real. Honestly thought when I opened my eyes, I’d see Jesus’s face.”

Instead he’d seen hers. No wonder he’d been disappointed.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then turned to her. “Say, you look as fresh as a daisy. How long have you been up?”

“About half an hour. When the sun rose.”

“Huh. I’m usually a light sleeper.” He stroked his jaw. “Reckon I should make myself presentable before church.”

It seemed a shame. He looked cute with his hair sticking up and dark stubble accentuating his jawline.

Clay wrapped the sheet around his waist, grabbed his trousers from the clothes rack, and entered the bathroom.

Leah turned pages in her composition book. So many unfinished poems, all in want of a lyrical word or a phrase with the right cadence or a final stanza to complete the thought—including her poem about three dancing muses.

Prickling pain dug in below her collarbone, and she pressed her fingers over the scar and crossed her legs hard. That poem was supposed to remind her of her little sisters—not of the wolf and his bite.

Clay emerged from the bathroom, his hair slicked back, his jaw shaven, and his T-shirt tucked into khaki trousers. He looked nice like that too, but so serious.

He plopped onto the foot of the bed. “Reckon I ought to brief you on my family, seeing as how you and my parents will be writing and calling.”

They would? How little Leah knew about families and marriage.

Clay leaned his elbows on his knees. “I warn you, it’s ugly.”

“All right.” He didn’t realize how many ugly stories she’d heard in the orphanage.

“How much did I tell you about my brother Adler?”

Leah sorted the details. “He’s the one who lost his fiancée, right? Then he blamed your brother Wyatt and tried to kill him. You stopped him, and he ran away. You said something about him . . . stealing your girlfriend.”