Page 79 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“The courage was never in the stones,” Nathaniel said.

“That sounds like something a man says when he still has every keepsake he brought.”

Pain crossed his face, and Eleanor immediately regretted the words.

“I am sorry.”

“You are not wrong.” He looked at her bare ear. “But I promise you this sacrifice will not be forgotten.”

*****

THEY REPAIRED THE WAGON by late afternoon.

Nathaniel should have spent the evening checking the altered load, but instead he found himself walking toward the Whitaker fire. Eleanor sat alone with a cup in her hands. Her sisters had made themselves scarce with such obvious purpose that Nathaniel knew they were listening.

He sat beside her.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Is that wise when you have only one bag?”

“Martha says some occasions require recklessness.”

“I like Martha.”

“Everyone likes Martha. It is very annoying.”

He smiled. “How are you?”

“Still without earrings.”

“I noticed.”

“I keep reaching for them.”

Nathaniel touched the place below her left ear with one finger. “They will be there again.”

Eleanor went still.

He should have moved his hand. Instead, he let his fingers slide lightly along her jaw.

“Nathaniel.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head.

He kissed her.

This kiss was not born of fear and smoke. It was slow, deliberate, and entirely chosen. Eleanor leaned toward him. Nathaniel cupped her cheek and felt her hand settle against his chest.

When they parted, her eyes remained closed for a moment.

“I cannot promise you anything,” she whispered.

“I did not ask.”

“You will.”