Page 35 of Eleanor’s Earrings

Nathaniel looked at the garnets. “Your mother's earrings should not be the first thing sacrificed every time the trail becomes difficult.”

“They would not be the first. I have already sacrificed my home, my furniture, my father's grave, and every expectation I had for my life.”

He had not expected the sharp words. Eleanor seemed startled by them herself.

“I am sorry,” Nathaniel said.

“Do not be. You did not take those things.”

“Neither did the trail. Not all of them.”

She looked toward the river. “Father gave me the earrings because he trusted me to know when memory mattered less than a living sister.”

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Trust yourself to know.”

Eleanor was quiet.

Nathaniel understood the answer. He sat on a fallen log. After a moment, she sat beside him.

“I sold Abigail's piano after she died,” he said.

Eleanor turned toward him.

“I could not listen to it,” he continued. “She played every evening. Not well, but with great enthusiasm.”

Eleanor smiled slightly.

“When she was gone, the silence seemed worse with the piano in the room. I sold it to the first man who made an offer.” Nathaniel picked up a small stone and turned it between his fingers. “A year later, I wanted it back. Not because I could play it, but because she had loved it.”

“Did you find it?”

“No.”

“I am sorry.”

“So am I.” He looked at her. “Do not let grief convince you that everything you love is expendable.”

Eleanor’s eyes filled, though no tears fell. “I will not sell them to protect my pride.”

“That is all I ask.”

“You ask a great deal for a wagon master.”

“It is an important position.”

She laughed softly.

They walked back to camp together. Their shoulders brushed once, then again. Neither moved farther apart.

Nathaniel knew Caroline Whitaker saw them. She was standing near the first wagon with her arms folded and a thoughtful expression.

He suspected that gaining Eleanor’s affection might be easier than surviving the opinions of all seven sisters.

That was not a comforting thought.