“I Feel Sorry for the Man Who Marries Her,” He Said — By Autumn, He Was the One Saying the Vows

Chapter 13

Years later, their children would ask how their parents met.

Daniel always told the story differently.

He claimed Clara had chased him across the farm with a broom.

Clara denied it.

“He came looking for grain,” she would say.

“He came looking for trouble.”

Daniel would laugh.

But whenever they passed the old tavern, Clara would become quiet.

That was where it had begun.

Not with romance.

Not with a dance.

Not with flowers.

With a cruel joke.

Daniel had thought Clara was too stubborn to love.

Too serious.

Too difficult.

But what he had mistaken for coldness was strength.

What he had mistaken for pride was dignity.

What he had mistaken for loneliness was independence.

He had needed to know her before he could understand her.

And by the time he did, he had fallen completely.

One autumn evening, they stood beneath the same bell tower where they had married.

Daniel took Clara’s hand.

“Do you ever think about what I said that night?”

She smiled.

“Sometimes.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because if you hadn’t said it, you might never have learned how wrong you were.”

Daniel laughed.

“That is a very Clara Bennett answer.”

She leaned against him.

“And this is a very Daniel Whitmore life.”