She packed blankets, food, the medical notebook, and Gideon’s papers into a leather bag.
Then she returned to the bedroom.
He was awake, watching her.
She took his hand.
“You don’t have to face this alone,” she said, knowing he could not hear every word.
She wrote the same message in his notebook.
We will find the truth.
Gideon stared at the page.
For a long moment, his eyes remained fixed on her handwriting.
Then he took the pencil.
Why are you helping me?
Rosalie thought about her father, the fifty dollars, and the life she had been forced to leave behind.
She thought about the first night Gideon had given her a bedroom and slept beside the fire.
She thought about the way he had smiled when she laughed over the burnt biscuits.
Finally, she wrote:
Because you have treated me with more kindness in eight days than my own family has shown me in years.
