The winter's chill left the house cold, even with the heater running. Even if Elliott would rather spend his time with the farmer—his spouse—staying warm in the bed, he knew they both had things to do.

So now he sat, writing at his desk while they were out on the farm. They reassured that they didn't need help, but he still worried. His head lifted when the front door of the farmhouse opened again.

"Is that you, love?"