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“Good.”

Mama made a protesting noise.

Laurel took Eden’s hand. “Josiah and I will manage. I’ll make mistakes, and he’ll be impossible about them. We’ll learn.”

“He doesn’t always tell you when he has a headache,” Eden said.

“I know. He gets quiet and rubs the back of his neck.”

Eden blinked. Laurel had already learned that.

“When he can’t find a word,” Laurel continued, “I know to give him time instead of guessing for him.”

Josiah squeezed Laurel’s fingers.

“You can leave him with me,” she said.

Eden had been carrying the instructions for her brother’s care in her head for three years. She’d never imagined how hard it would be to hand them over.

“All right,” she whispered.

Laurel smiled. “When you come home to visit, you’re welcome to tell me where he’s hidden the fishing tackle.”

“Under the kitchen table,” Eden said. “Usually beside his shoes.”

At that, even Mama laughed.

Later, when supper had been cleared and the ribbons settled, Eden climbed to her room. Her trunk stood packed beside the bed. Her traveling dress hung ready on the wardrobe door. On the quilt lay Emily Pickett’s telegram.

Jesse woke briefly. Condition uncertain. Come only if still led. Emily Pickett.

Eden smoothed the creases with her thumb.

Emily’s first letter had described her brother-in-law as a stubborn man who didn’t know anyone had written to find him a wife. After the attack, she’d written again, making plain Jesse might not survive and Eden owed the Pickett family nothing.

No one had said that to Eden in a long time.

She had been praised at church for her sacrifice, thanked by doctors for her careful notes, and depended upon at home for everything from meals to medicine. Some days she’d wanted to tell them she was tired. Then Josiah would call, and she’d go to him.

Now he had Laurel.

From below came Mama’s footsteps in the kitchen. Josiah laughed at something on the porch.

Eden folded the telegram and slipped it into her pocket. She would miss the wedding, and it hurt to think of it. Yet she had made her choice. Tomorrow she would board the train.

At dawn, Josiah drove her to the station in the wagon, with Mama beside him and Eden’s luggage in the back. Laurel had stayed to help prepare for the wedding but had hugged Eden fiercely before she left.

Papa had said his goodbyes the night before. He disliked railway platforms and had insisted someone needed to remain home to oversee the wedding preparations. Eden suspected he had wanted no one to see him cry.

The train waited beside the narrow platform, steam drifting past the telegraph office.

Josiah climbed down from the wagon and offered his hand. Eden took it. He steadied her on the ground, his bad leg holding firm.

Mama fussed with the clasp of Eden’s cloak.

“You’ll write?”

“As soon as I arrive.”