Page 22 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“Only for a moment.”

“A moment is long enough to lose one.”

“I would be careful.”

Eleanor's expression softened. She sat beside Lucy and touched one garnet. “They belonged to Mother.”

“I know.”

“Father gave them to me because I was the eldest. That did not make them more mine than yours. It made me responsible for keeping them.”

Lydia leaned closer. “Keeping them for what?”

“An emergency.”

Nathaniel stopped where he was, not wanting to interrupt.

Eleanor continued. “Father said the stones could be sold if there was no other way to keep the family safe. Until then, I wear them to remember Mother.”

“Do they make you brave?” Grace asked.

“No.” Eleanor smiled. “But sometimes they remind me that I already am.”

Nathaniel looked toward the river.

He had spent years believing courage meant carrying fear without speaking of it. Eleanor carried hers in plain sight, disguised as red stones and a straight back.

She noticed him a moment later. “Were you listening?”

“I was standing nearby.”

“That was not my question.”

“Then yes.”

Her hand moved to the earring. “You should announce yourself.”

“You should stop saying interesting things when I am nearby.”

Lydia grinned. Eleanor ignored her.

Nathaniel explained that the Whitaker wagons would cross among the first group in the morning. Eleanor asked sensible questions about the animals, the cable, and how much of the load should be removed.

“You do not trust the ferry,” she said.

“I trust wood and rope to behave like wood and rope. That means I expect both to break eventually.”

“Comforting.”

“I did not say tomorrow.”

Charlotte’s inventory system became a source of both comfort and irritation.

She had divided the supplies into categories, then subcategories, then added small symbols beside anything that required special attention.

Eleanor stared at the page. “What does the triangle mean?”

“Use sparingly.”