Rachel took nourishment. She did not speak often, and when she did, she did not say Adam’s name. Sarah was at first thankful, but then she began to worry, for when she was not sleeping, Rachel appeared to spend her time altogether in deep thought. She never asked for food, but when it was brought to her, she ate a little; when water was offered, she drank a swallow or two. She sat up in bed if pillows were propped to support her. She smiled a little at family members when Sarah allowed them to enter the room for short visits. But she seemed glad only to see Sarah and Leon, and she had little to say to them.

One morning—it was now middle October—Sarah went into Rachel’s room to find that Juanita had bathed her and helped her to dress, and that Rachel was sitting in a chair by a window looking out.

“Good morning, Mama,” Rachel said.

Sarah bent and kissed her. “Good morning, Rachel. Did you rest well?”

“Yes. Today is a special day, isn’t it?”

“You remember?” Sarah said happily.

“Oh yes,” Rachel said. “I asked Juanita to bring me my book and tell me the days that have gone. I am eighteen today. And now I may marry!”

“Rachel!”

The girl looked out the window. “You speak so sharply, Mama. What is the matter?”

“It is past time we talk of Adam.”

Rachel continued to look out the window.

Sarah brought a chair close to the girl’s and sat down, dismissing Juanita with a nod. She yearned to touch Rachel, to take her hand or stroke her cheek, but she was afraid Rachel would not want her to. So she sat still and calmed herself before she said, “Dr. Platt tells us you are nearly well. It is time for you to understand—and try to accept the fact that Adam is dead. He died of the fever.”

Rachel frowned slightly, but her gaze held to whatever in the distant view had fixed it.

Sarah continued. “Adam came back from Savannah believing he was well, but he was not. After meeting with you he went home and was ill when he arrived there. While he was still himself he told his father and grandmother that he had come upon our Stella by accident in Savannah. She was nursing a family, all of them sick, and had only left them to fetch lemons and calomel. Adam helped her with her errands, then left her. She was perfectly well, he said. But he had contracted the fever. You caught it from him before he knew he had it. His was a desperate case, and he died.”

Rachel continued to look out of the window, her expression gentle, untragic. “I know you think so, Mama.”

“It is true, my Rachel!”

“No, Mama. I do not accept it.”

“You must!”

“No.”