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Chapter Seven

“I ain’t doing it.”

Eden had spent the morning upstairs sorting the few belongings she’d brought from Missouri. She’d written half a letter to Mama before Carolina asked whether she wished to sit with Jesse during his next attempt to sit upright.

Now she set her sewing on her lap while Nate stood beside Jesse’s bed, ready to help his brother.

“You haven’t tried,” Nate said.

“That’s because I have sense.”

“Use some of it to listen, then. We’ll go slowly.”

Jesse’s good eye found Eden. “You can leave.”

“Would you rather I did?”

He tugged at the sheet with his left hand. “Don’t want an audience.”

“Then you won’t have one.” Eden carried her chair to the window and faced the street. “I’ll be right here if you want me.”

“That’s still an audience.”

“It’s a woman with a torn cuff and a needle. I’ll be too busy to applaud.”

Nate gave a short laugh. Jesse muttered something Eden was glad she hadn’t heard clearly.

The bed ropes creaked as Nate lifted him. Jesse drew a breath through his teeth.

“Tell me if the dizziness gets worse,” Nate said.

“Already worse.”

“Keep your eye on the washstand.”

“Washstand’s moving.”

“Then hold on to my arm.”

Eden pushed her needle through the cloth. She had promised not to watch. A moment later, Jesse cursed, and her fingers stopped.

“You’re upright,” Nate told him. “Stay with me.”

Jesse answered with a groan.

Eden had heard Josiah make that sound often enough to know what it cost a man to let anyone hear it. She threaded the needle again and waited.

“Another few breaths,” Nate said. “Then back down.”

“Make it quick.”

Nate eased him to the mattress. The ropes creaked once more.

Eden turned only when Nate said he was finished. Jesse lay pale against the pillows, his hair damp at the temples. One hand gripped the sheet.

“You were watching,” Jesse accused.

“At the end. I’m sorry.”