The clock had stopped ticking. Amanda hadn’t wound it, and he didn’t want to. The rise of her chest was barely visible anymore. He watched her as one might watch the last glow in the hearth—knowing it would go out, but not knowing when that moment would be.
With trembling hands, Jackson removed his boots and set them quietly on the floor. He slid beneath the quilt and scooted closer, until he lay beside his precious wife. Her skin was cool, but her warmth still clung to the sheets.
He didn’t touch her at first. Just stared at a few strands of hair curled and resting at her temple. Then he folded himself around her and tucked his face into the hollow of her neck. His next breath filled his lungs with the odors of jasmine and sun-dried cotton. He’d come to crave Amanda’s scent, and it broke his heart that this was the last time he would ever feel its comfort.
The first sob came silent and sudden. Then they tore from him like a raging flood bursting from a dam. He didn’t care if she heard him. He hoped she did. Then maybe she would know how much he loved her.
Chapter 10
Caroline frowned at the insistent rapping on the door. She glanced out her bedroom window as she threw on her wrapper and tied it. What possessed a person to call on a private residence at dawn?
She descended the stairs as fast as her slippered feet would carry her and sprinted to the foyer, hoping to put a stop to the racket before it woke the entire house.
After a quick check of herself to ensure she’d managed the barest acceptable state of dress for such an intrusion, she opened the door enough to poke her head out.
A wide-eyed stripling holding a folded piece of paper nodded to her and tipped his flat cap. “Sorry to call at such an hour, Miss, but I have an urgent message for the Bennet family.”
“I’m Caroline Bennet.” She held out her hand, waiting, but the boy didn’t relinquish the note.
Forcing a sigh through her nose to dampen its volume, Caroline dug around in a small leather bag hanging from one of the coat hooks and held out a coin to him.
His brows shot up, and his eyes opened wide. “I’m not pressing you for a tip, Miss Bennet, not at all. Though I’d gladly take it. I was instructed—under strict penalty of dismissal—that if a lady answered, I was to stay with her while she read the telegram.”
“All right.” She stepped back and opened the door. “Come in.” Apprehension put a damper on her irritation, as did the young man wiping his boots before stepping inside, then swiping off his cap and averting his eyes.
Still gripping the note, he risked a cautious glance. “You should probably sit down.”
If the messenger had been a grown man, Caroline would have flatly refused, as there were no chairs near enough to the door. But he was just a boy. She led him to the parlor and, once again, held out her hand.
His gaze darted to the chair behind her then back in the direction of her hems, and he handed it over.
Caroline lowered herself onto the cushion and unfolded the note. She sucked in a breath and held it, fearing the sound she would make if she exhaled.
From: Sagebrush Springs, Nebraska
Received: 7:05 AM November 23, 1871
Location: Greenvale
To: The Bennet Family of Walnut Lane
Amanda Bennet Maguire fell suddenly ill. Passed peacefully in her sleep. Buried yesterday.
With regret, Jackson Maguire
Caroline sat, eyes closed and hand clamped against her mouth.
Her sister was dead.
“Miss Bennet...?” the messenger said in a wary yet compassionate voice. “Should I get you some water?”
She lowered her hand but only shook her head in response. She was still too shocked to speak.
The boy stood perfectly still and waited. “If you wish to send a reply,” he said after a long silence, “I can deliver it to the telegraph operator for you. Mr. Willard is a friend of your father’s. He offers his condolences and told me he’d send it at no charge.”
Caroline drew a slow breath and willed her tears into submission. “There’s no reply.”
The boy stood there, worrying his cap in his hands.
