Hunter to sit down and had laid a gentle hand on his arm. Lying on the bed with his wife in the room next door and the sounds of his children ringing in his ears, Hunter was suddenly glad that he hadn't gone and done anything stupid. Years of controlling the temper he'd inherited from his father had allowed Hunter to keep his cool, and he'd he'd been rewarded with a brief explanation from Gretchen's mother. It may not have been completely satisfying, nor had it fully explained his wife's sudden need to leave, but in the end Beatrice's partial account of Gretchen having to go back East for a short while, on a "very important errand" had had to suffice. Hunter recalled looking at Beatrice with wondering eyes, asking for reassurance that there wouldn't be any further clues. This had been met with Beatrice's plea that Hunter trust her and Gretchen; that he wait; that he be patient; that all would be well, in the end. And Hunter had reluctantly chosen to do just that. He shifted nervously onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling, trying to figure out just how he'd managed to keep his cool during his wife's long absence. Every time he'd subsequently asked Beatrice for an explanation he'd been met with the same patient, kindly gaze and more reassurance that Gretchen was fine and that she'd be back soon. On the visits to the house in Helena, Hunter had wondered if there ever would come a day when he'd arrive at the house to find Gretchen seated in the parlor, a smile on her face, and a full explanation for the torment she'd visited upon him. But that had never happened. It had been almost a whole year. And no-one had thought to tell him that while his wife had been gone she had given birth to two beautiful twins. Hunter felt his throat tighten as the emotion rose up inside him. He'd lost so much while she had been gone. He'd lost the joy of her telling him she was expecting; he'd lost the chance to care for her and make sure she was healthy and safe; he'd lost being present at the birth of those beautiful babies. His brow furrowed and he felt a burning ache settle in his gut. He'd lost so much. How could she have done that to him? Why had she done such an incredible thing? There must have been a reason, he thought. There must have been something which had driven her to stay away from him, even during her pregnancy. Things had gone quiet next door, and Hunter debated whether he should go back to the room. But, he didn't want to run the risk of disturbing the children who had obviously settled back to sleep. He thought of Gretchen lying on the bed, nestling the infants, cradling them, keeping them safe and secure. He'd watched her from his vantage point on the bed. In the soft moonlight he'd told himself he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life, than the image of his wife and their children settled on the wide bed. He'd savored the sounds of their breathing. Never in his life had he felt such a sense of connection to any other person than what he felt toward the three people who now meant more to him than anything on earth. Was this what it meant to accept responsibility? Was this how it felt to lay aside resentment and decide that the past should be left behind, no matter what? Hunter glanced out the window at the silver moon It was the same light that would be shining on his precious children in the room next door. He heard the door open and close quietly and the footsteps of Mrs. Roper as she made her way back to her own room. The housekeeper knew all about taking care of people, of focusing on what was important, setting aside trivial concerns. It seemed as if the housekeeper wasn't even giving the slightest thought to why Gretchen had been gone. She'd accepted Gretchen's return unconditionally. The question that filled Hunter's mind was about that exact same thing. Could he forgive and trust his wife? Could they overcome the barrier that lay between them both and learn how to love once again?