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a project rather than a person. Eleanor Harrison had been raised to believe that a woman s value lay in her beauty, her poise, her ability to attract a suitable husband. She had passed these beliefs on to her daughter, not through words, but through the weight of her expectations, the coldness of her gaze, the constant, unspoken demand that Ruth be perfect. But her father had more than made up for it. He had been her champion, her protector, her biggest cheerleader. He had taught her to ride a bike, to read, to stand up for herself. He had told her that she could be anything she wanted to be, that the world was hers for the taking. He had believed in her, truly believed in her, and his belief had given her the confidence to dream. But as she grew older, the world began to narrow. She learned that there were limits, expectations, rules that she was expected to follow. She learned that being a Harrison meant something, that she had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to protect. She learned that there were certain things she could do and certain things she could not, and that deviating from the path that had been laid out for her would have consequences. She had tried to be good. She had tried to be the daughter her parents wanted. She had gone to the right schools, made the right friends, said the right things. She had smiled when she was supposed to smile and been quiet when she was supposed to be quiet. She had been the perfect Southern lady, the belle of every ball. But she had also been lonely. Beneath the surface of her perfect life, there had been a deep, abiding loneliness, a sense that something was missing. She had felt like an actress playing a role, always performing, never being herself. She had felt like a stranger in her own life, watching it unfold from a distance, never quite able to step into it. And then she had met him. He was a stranger to Harrison County, a man who had arrived in town with nothing but a suitcase and a smile. He had been hired to work on the railroad, a temporary job that had brought him through the area. He was handsome in a rugged, unpolished way, with dark hair that fell across his forehead and blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, that seemed to understand her in a way no one else ever had. They had met at the general store, where she had gone to buy some ribbon for her mother. He had been standing in line behind her, and he had helped her pick up the package she had dropped. Their hands had touched, and she had felt a spark, a connection that had taken her breath away. It had been like lightning, sudden and electric, a jolt of recognition that had left her stunned. He had introduced himself as James, and they had started talking. They had talked for hours, standing in the middle of the store, oblivious to the world around them. He had made her laugh, really laugh, for the first time in years. He had made her feel seen, understood, alive. He had looked at her as if she were the most fascinating person in the world, as if everything she said was worth listening to. They had started seeing each other in secret. She knew it was wrong, knew that her parents would never approve, but she couldn t help herself. He was