of how it hadn’t changed, of how it wouldn’t die just because one of us will, and I appreciated it for that reason alone. That’s why, when I saw it, I forced a grateful smile rather than shed my bitter tears.
Turning my attention to today, I note the fact that I’m in bed alone. I neither see nor hear any evidence of Nate, which leave me free to take stock of my body in complete privacy.
Gently, I push the covers off and let my hands skate over my bare skin. Some part of me expects to be able to feel what’s going on beneath the surface, even though I know I won’t.
“Don’t get started without me,” a deeply familiar voice says from behind me. I jump guiltily and crane my neck to look at my husband where he stands in the doorway that leads out to the living area. Between his fingers, he twirls a single red rose. On his lips, he carries a smile that’s allll man.
A blush stings my cheeks at his insinuation.
“I…I wasn’t…” I begin to explain.
Nate pushes himself off the doorjamb he’d been leaning leisurely against and walks slowly to the bed. Bringing the rose to his nose, he inhales and then sets one knee on the edge of the bed, stretching out across it until his face is inches from mine.
“You weren’t? Then what were you doing?” he asks suggestively, tickling the tip of my nose with the velvety petals of the blossom.
I hate to admit it to him, but I’m caught. To lie at this point would only make things worse.
“I…I guess I expect to wake up one day and be able to feel it.”
Nate’s eyes hold mine for several long seconds before he drops his forehead onto my shoulder. My chin trembles once as I reach across my chest to thread my fingers into his hair, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
God, how I hate to hurt him!
“What do you have to be sorry about?” he inquires softly, his voice as tortured as I know his expression would be if I could see it. He tries to hide it, but like I’ve come to realize, it’s nearly impossible to hide very much from the person you’ve lived with and shared your life with for the better part of two decades.
“I just wish you hadn’t seen that.”
Nate raises his head and brings his glassy green eyes up to mine. “Do you do this every day?”
Hesitantly, I nod, still opting for the truth.
He exhales on a sigh laced with grief and sadness. “I wish I could take it from you. I wish it had been me instead.”
My heart squeezes with panic at the mere thought of such a twist of fate. Although I’d have wished that neither of us would ever get sick, I know I’m much more capable of handling sickness in my own body than sickness in his. “Don’t say that. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand watching it take someone else that I love. It’s better this way.”
“Then don’t shut me out like this. Let me carry it with you. Give me that. Please.”
I stroke Nate’s stubbly cheek with the tips of my fingers, memorizing every strong line of the only face I’ve ever loved. “It’ll be easier for me if I bury it. It’ll be easier for me if I put it out of my mind so that we can have as much normal as we can get for the next little while. There will come a time when normal will be a thing of the past. Remember, I’ve seen this before. I know how it works.”
And I do. I saw something similar with my father. At nearly fourteen years old, I’d known that he wasn’t well. I’d watched him wither with unexpected weight loss. I’d witnessed his unusual bouts of confusion. I’d seen him deteriorate over those few short months.
He’d done his best to hide the worst of it from me. He’d gone to work every day, made sure there was food on the table. He’d fought it so hard, refusing to give in until the very last. He’d even pulled himself out of bed to chase lightning bugs with me, begging me to come outside with him when I’d complained about being “too grown up” for it.
But he never gave up. Not for one second.
After my sister died, Momma grew distant, but not my father. He never neglected our time together. Daddy coaxed me outside to chase the lightning bugs right