Janie's trip to visit Aunt Myrtle was cut short when Auntie M's pen pal got sick. Myrtle bundled Janie on the train home and made her own arrangements to travel to New Jersey.
The three-week-long visit had been a badly-needed distraction. But every mile the train traveled toward Calvin seemed to make the voices in Janie's head louder. Hussy. Seductress.
She couldn't focus on the book in her lap. She stared out the window, but the scenery passing didn't catch her interest either.
At the stop in Cheyenne, passengers disembarked and boarded. She watched the activity absently.
And then Nathan Bingley boarded the train.
He'd entered the car from the door in front; she sat near the rear, which gave her a clear view as he looked for a seat.
She wanted to sink into the floor. Or maybe hide her face in the book currently resting in her lap. But she sat frozen, unable to look away.
He looked pale, drawn. Pronounced lines around his eyes made it seem as if he might be ill.
His eyes skated around the compartment. There were several empty seats—including one next to her.
Please God, don't let him sit there.
His eyes met hers. He stopped in the aisle, one hand clutching a seat back.
He nodded slightly. And then sat, facing away.
Nearly half a train car separated them.
If she'd held out any hope that he'd want to rekindle their friendship when he returned to Calvin, it was obliterated in that moment.
He'd seen her and chosen to sit elsewhere.
Her hands shook as she opened her book again. She stared at it without seeing.
She felt near tears as the conductor moved up the aisle, checking tickets. She considered asking if there were any available seats in the next car. With still a day and a half of travel along this line, perhaps being out of Nathan's sight would calm her nerves.
But the words froze behind her lips, the conductor passed by, and she was stuck.
She should be relieved that Mr. Bingley hadn't taken the seat next to her. If he had, she'd have had to speak to him.
But the thought was small comfort.
The morning dragged, minutes seeming like hours, hours like years.
Several times, she heard a wracking cough from Nathan's seat. It was bad enough that she found herself lifting her eyes, no matter how fiercely she told herself to ignore the man.
Lunch was a quick stop at a Harvey House. She was jostled by passengers as she disembarked the train. The mess hall was crowded and noisy. She tried not to look for Nathan but did anyway. She didn't see him anywhere. Had he stayed on the train?
What food she could force down lodged in her stomach like lead.
She determined to board a different passenger car—there were two—after the quick meal, but she was near the back of the crowd, and by the time she'd gotten to the platform, she was in danger of missing the train completely. The whistle blew, blasting her ears with sound as she stepped onto the train.
Nathan was there, still in his seat midway up the car.
She sank into a seat nearest the door. She’d get a blast of hot, dusty air each time they stopped, but she didn't dare try for something closer to the man who didn't want her.
The clickety-clack of the rails lulled her into a drowse during the heat of the afternoon. But a loud hacking cough woke her with a jarring start. Nathan.
The conductor moved through the compartment, announcing the next two stops. They were coming up on Cottonwood Cove.
The town where Albert and his mother lived. Where she'd been treated with such contempt over what had been an innocent mistake on her part. She'd been so distraught that she couldn't eat. Couldn't leave the house. And Mama had convinced Papa to uproot the entire family to move to Calvin.
As far as she was concerned, they couldn't pass by quickly enough.
Nathan coughed again.
Was it her imagination, or was his cough worsening? The dry hacking sound had turned wetter.
As a child, Kitty had once come down with croup. She'd nearly died from the sickness. Janie could still remember being awake in her bed into the middle of the night, watching Mama tend Kitty. Being so afraid she would die.
Nathan's cough was beginning to sound just the same.
Nathan should've stayed in Cheyenne and found a doctor.
His stubbornness might be the death of him. The cough that he'd developed in St. Louis had worsened with each mile, and now he felt as if his lungs were filled with the smoky, sooty air from the car's boiler. Each breath burned. Chills wracked his body.
He'd lost two seat mates. No doubt his worsening cough had scared them off.
The conductor called for a stop, but the fuzziness in Nathan's head made it impossible for him to understand the words. Was this a stop for a watering station, or a town?
Janie was on the train. If he could marshal his strength, perhaps he could walk back to her and ask for her help. She was a kind soul, wasn't she? She might overlook that awful letter he'd sent and help him.
But his neck felt rubbery, like it wouldn't support his head, and he had to lean back against his seat.
It had grown dark outside, and he strained his eyes trying to see through the reflection on the window. If there was a town out there, it was small enough that he couldn't make out any lights from this distance.
Another bout of shivers wracked him, and he closed his eyes, trying to rally the strength to do something to help himself.
And then there was motion next to him. Someone sat on the seat beside him. A she someone, because her skirts brushed his knee.
He pried his eyes open. Through vision now gone hazy, he saw hope. He smiled. "Dearest Janie." The breath he'd drawn to speak the words burned his throat.
Instead of returning his smile, she frowned. "Are you—?"
"Ill," he announced cheerfully. She was here to save him, and he hadn't even had to ask. "Caught something just before I left my sister in St. Louis. It seems to be getting wor—" Another bout of coughing took him, and he ratcheted up in the seat, doubling over as it stole the very breath from his chest.
This one was the worst yet, and he braced with hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath through burning lungs and throat.
The train began to slow with a squeal of brakes, the change in motion throwing him off balance. Janie braced his shoulder.
She was kinder than he deserved.
He was probably smiling at her like a dolt, but she was frowning again, this time her face nearer as she settled him back against the seat.
She touched his forehead with the back of her wrist, her skin cool and refreshing against his.
"You're burning up." She didn't sound happy about it. She almost sounded angry. Was she angry?
He realized his eyes had closed, and it was more difficult to pry them open this time.
The conductor yelled "Cottonwood Cove" from the front of the car, and Nathan winced at the harsh sound.
"You've got to get off the train." Her voice was faint, as if he was hearing her through a fog, and he smiled again, his eyes falling closed.
He meant to ask her to help him, to take him off the train, but his voice emerged garbled.
He passed out.
"Nathan."
The man's head had lolled back on the seat again, and he didn't respond when Janie spoke his name.
The train rolled to a complete stop, and several passengers moved toward the door. It opened, and cool evening air whooshed into the cab.
With her hand on his arm, she felt a shiver wrack Nathan's body.
He needed a doctor. There hadn't been one in Cottonwood Cove three years ago, but perhaps there was one now.
Regardless, he couldn't stay on this train. He almost hadn't been able to draw breath after that last bout of coughing.
She looked around for help, but the other passengers were studiously avoiding looking at them, possibly afraid they'd catch whatever he had.
If no one would help, then it was up to her. She couldn't just leave him like this. What if he died?
She had a debt to repay. He'd once braved the floodwaters for her. Surely, she could brave one town for a night. Even if the town had betrayed her once before.
"Last call," the conductor was blaring out the door to the platform.
"Wait!" she called out.
She collected both of their satchels from their feet and roused Nathan by grabbing his upper arm. He moved slowly, but she finally dragged him to his feet. He immediately weaved.
She moved closer, and he hummed, as if he were enjoying her closeness. The way he'd smiled when she'd first sat down in the seat beside him... His entire face had lit. And she didn't know what to do with the emotions his expression had stirred up in her.
Now she needed him to move, so she slid her arm around his waist. His arm came around her shoulders.
He was burning up with fever. She could feel heat radiating off of him through the suit jacket and her light shawl. Her satchel banged against her hip, throwing her further out of balance.
The conductor saw their approach and moved out of the way so they could disembark. Nathan stumbled on the last step to the platform and nearly toppled the both of them.
The train blew, the whistle drowning out any other sound. Smoke curled around them, and Nathan coughed again, bracing one hand on this thigh. She fought to keep him upright.
They needed to find a place to settle him. Three years ago, there hadn't been a hotel in Cottonwood Cove, but she knew where the boardinghouse was. It was only a few blocks.
With Nathan's weight dragging them both down, she wasn’t sure whether they could make it that far on their own.
This late in the evening, the town's sidewalks would have rolled up. Only one other person remained on the platform, and he walked away before Janie could call out, leaving her and Nathan along on the windy platform.
What had she done?
She'd disembarked in Cottonwood Cove. If Albert or his mother found out she was here… They might do violence to her. Edna had threatened it enough times.
She couldn't think about that right now. Nathan's breaths were coming even rougher, sounding more wet. He needed a bed and some steam. She hoped that was all he needed.
He'd rescued her once. Now it was her turn.
The moon was only a sliver and the streets were shrouded by leafy trees overhead. The darkness would've been frightening if she weren’t so worried for Nathan.
With each step, he seemed to lean on her more heavily. They had to stop twice as he lost his breath to his coughs. Once, he wheezed so badly that she was sure he would suffocate. Fear surged. All she could do was pray.
A light remained on in the boardinghouse. Perhaps the proprietress expected the occasional evening traveler?
Janie held her breath as she knocked at the door. Her heart pounded with more than the exertion of toting Nathan here. If the proprietress recognized her, if she wouldn't allow Janie in... what would they do?
The door opened a crack.
"Do you have a room for the night?"
Janie didn't know the older woman. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Janie waited for recognition, but none came.
And Janie was worried enough for Nathan, frightened for his very life.
Words that she hadn't planned rushed out of her mouth. "My husband is ill, and we need a room."