“No.”
“Josephine.”
“You have a fever.”
“Cows don’t care.”
“Rose does.”
“She’s terrible with the red heifer.”
“You are dying and criticizing cattle technique.”
“I’m not dying.”
Josephine stared.
Harlan looked away.
That frightened her.
She sat beside him.
“Are you?”
His silence answered.
Josephine’s chest tightened.
“No.”
Harlan took her hand.
“Not today.”
“That is not enough.”
“I know.”
She began crying.
Harlan pulled her closer.
Josephine rested her large round face against his shoulder.
“I’m not ready.”
“I know.”
“You promised to stop when I said stop.”
His eyes closed.
“That was different.”
“Then I say stay.”
Harlan’s mouth trembled.
“I’ll stay as long as I can.”
He lived another nine months.
Long enough to see autumn.
Long enough to sit on the porch once more.
Long enough to attend the school’s fortieth anniversary.
Students presented Josephine with a framed copy of Eleanor’s original deed.
Harlan whispered, “Better than a corset.”
Josephine elbowed him.
He smiled.
His final night was quiet.
No storm.
No drama.
Josephine lay beside him.
Their daughters slept in nearby rooms.
Grandchildren filled the house.
Harlan’s breathing was shallow.
Josephine held his hand.
He opened his eyes.
“Josephine.”
“Yes?”
“You warm?”
She laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
“Breathing?”
The first night returned instantly.
Josephine squeezed his hand.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
His eyes closed again.
Josephine whispered, “Harlan.”
He opened them.
“I chose you.”
His mouth lifted faintly.
“I know.”
“You understand?”
“Yes.”
“You never bought me.”
“No.”
“You saved me.”
Harlan’s eyes sharpened.
“No.”
Josephine frowned.
He struggled for breath.
“I helped.”
A pause.
“You saved yourself.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Harlan smiled.
“Stubborn woman.”
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
The question from decades earlier.
Harlan remembered.
His smile deepened.
“Enough that dying feels inconvenient.”
Josephine laughed and sobbed.
He squeezed her fingers weakly.
Then whispered, “Closer.”
Josephine moved against him.
His head rested near hers.
Near dawn, Harlan Creek died with Josephine’s hand over his heart.
She did not feel grateful.
She felt devastated.
Gratitude had nothing to do with it.
She had loved him.
Freely.
That was what made losing him unbearable.
Josephine lived eight more years.
She remained active at the school as long as her legs allowed.
Eventually meetings came to her.