Page 69 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“I was still in the Army,” he continued. “There was always something to count, move, repair, or order. I convinced myself I was serving her by remaining useful.”

“Were you?”

“Sometimes. Other times I was avoiding the house because I could not cure her.”

Eleanor's expression softened.

“On the last day, she asked me to sit with her. I told her I needed to finish arranging supplies.” Nathaniel swallowed. “She died before I returned.”

“Nathaniel.”

“Work is not always courage. Sometimes it is fear wearing clean boots.”

Eleanor looked down at her hands. “I do not know how to stop being responsible.”

“I am not asking you to stop.”

“It feels that way when you tell me to rest.”

“Then I should have explained instead of ordering you.”

She looked surprised.

“You were endangering yourself,” he said. “That frightened me. I spoke as a man accustomed to command, not as someone asking you to trust him.”

“And I heard every man who ever believed a woman should obey because he was stronger.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I am learning.”

They watched the road together.

“We need a signal,” Eleanor said eventually.

“For what?”

“For when I need help but do not wish seven sisters and one wagon master to behave as if the earth has opened.”

“What signal?”

She considered. “I will ask whether you have checked the weather.”

“That is a strange request for help.”

“Which means no one else will recognize it.”

Nathaniel smiled. “Agreed.”

At camp, Martha changed Eleanor's bandage. Nathaniel waited nearby until she finished, then approached with a cup of coffee.

“How is the weather?” he asked.

Eleanor looked at him, then laughed. “Clear.”

He handed her the cup.