Jack was taken to a nearby homestead by the next day, and Rose made a point of staying in the barn. Weeks passed, and he did not return home. Everyday she went to him, Cora in tow, and every day she left without him. There was no doubt about it; Jack would not return home any time soon.
He was beyond weak, and bordered on unconscious most days. He lay in bed, unable to move, while the wife of his friend tended to him.
Rose, although they were kind to her, knew he presence was a burden. She would spend all day there, and plead that if anything did go wrong overnight that they would send for her.
He made little improvements over time. His appetite increased, and the colour went back into his cheeks. She fretted still that he might not come home for a long while. Each day, her hope grew dim. What if they had come this far only to loose each other again?
Cora was perhaps the most affected by Jack's absence. Every night she refused to settle without "uncle Jack" and each morning she cried for him. She played with Laura, the daughter of Jack's friend, when Rose sent her outside to play, but most days she stayed nearby while she tended to Jack.
Rose did not want to think about what would happen if Jack did not recover.
It was thoughts like that that kept her awake each night. When she did finally go to sleep, she was awakened by nightmares. Those lonely, dark hours had her turning towards Cora for comfort; she slept beside Rose each night, under the warm of the covers. The little straw mattress she had made out of sacks and linen wasn't the quality which she was used to, but the exhaustion that set over her made it a little easier to bare it.
It was the difficult nights that led to the worst of days, she found. It seemed that everything wanted to go wrong at once, and that when she was tired she could not handle the worry of loosing Jack. Any improvements were valuable, she promised herself. Any important might see him coming home.
It was after one of those dreadful nights that Rose spent her day at Jack's bedside, holding back tears. As much as she tried to hide it, he couldn't miss the exhausted look in her eyes, "what is it, Rose?"
At the gentle, caring sound of his voice stirred a sob in her throat, "I'm just worried about you, Jack. You've been really sick..."
"I know, but I'm feeling better, see?" He gestured vaguely to himself.
"I know. And I'm glad."
His fingers grazed her cheek, "you're exhausted."
"I know."
"Why don't you lie down for a bit? Look, there's plenty of space," he moved over on the bed to make room for her, "you look like you haven't slept in days."
"I don't think I have," she admitted, "but I can't."
"Why not? Come on," he pulled her down beside him, pulling the covers over them both.
The last thing she remembered was his steady breathing beside her, and how it felt to have his arms around her again.