"I suppose I am," she said with a smile. There was something to be said about a good environment. For the young widow, it would seem that she was blooming again after a year of being wilted. Color bloomed in her cheeks with good health. Having gotten out of the town proper and even, perhaps, independent of her brother, had given her a new lease on life and healing began. Though she missed Pony, he really had been so very deeply hurtful to her and she didn't know if she wanted to see him again any time soon.

There she was, glowing, and wearing something besides her widow's garb, a blue cotton number that looked to suit her just fine; she had purchased the fabric just a month before with that in mind. She looked lovely and even had some spring flowers stuck into her braid from her garden.

She looked to him and said, "I confess I am nervous."