a formal. I was there with another guy, he had a date, and after his date ditched him and my date had wandered off, we started talking. I must have given him my number because he started texting me. Nothing weird, nothing stalker-like…after a month or so, we met for pizza. We dated the last two and a half years of college, got engaged a year after we graduated, and we married a year after that.”
“And you were happy together?”
“We were both happy,” she said. “You would have liked him. He was such a genuine person, so loving and energetic.” She caught herself. “I’m sorry. Is a genuine person.” She took another sip of wine before looking at my glass. “You’re not having any?”
“In a minute,” I said. “I’m still processing.”
“I guess I owe you an apology. For not telling you straightaway.”
“Even if you had, I’m not sure it would have stopped me from going to the farmers’ market or inviting you over to see the bees.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess. But…you should be aware that it’s not a secret. A lot of people in town know the situation. Mark grew up in New Bern; his family is well-known here. Had you asked around, it wouldn’t have taken you long to find out.”
“It never occurred to me to ask anyone about you. Honestly, I don’t know enough people in town well enough to ask. But I am curious as to why you don’t wear a wedding ring.”
“I do,” she said. “I wear it around my neck.”
When she pulled out her chain, I saw a lovely rose gold wedding band that looked like something from Cartier.
“Why not on your finger?”
“I never wore rings growing up and when I was in college, I began working out at the gym. Nothing too strenuous, but I do try to do sets on a few of the machines. After I got engaged, the ring would pinch and I was afraid to scratch it. I just got into the habit of wearing it around my neck. Once I became a sheriff’s deputy, I didn’t want people knowing anything about me.”
“Didn’t that bother Mark?”
“Not at all. He wasn’t the jealous type. I used to tell him that the ring was closer to my heart. I meant that and he knew it.”
I took a small sip of water, moistening my tight throat. Humoring her, I chased that with a swallow of wine, which tasted way too sour. “What do your mom and dad think?”
“They adored Mark. But they’re my parents. I told you they worry about me.”
Because of her job in law enforcement, I remembered thinking at the time. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“It seems like they take good care of him here.”
“It’s a top-notch facility for those who can afford it. Insurance only covers so much, but his parents make up the difference. It’s important to them. It’s important to me, too.”
“What happens…”
When I didn’t finish, she nodded. “What happens if we decide to pull the plug? I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Ever?”
“It’s not my decision. It’s up to his parents.”
“But you’re his wife.”
“They have medical power of attorney. They make those decisions, not me. When he turned eighteen, Mark got access to a trust. He had to sign all sorts of documents, including the ones that gave them the right to make end-of-life decisions for him. I doubt he even thought about it afterward and after we were married, it never came up. Before the marriage, he was way more upset that his parents insisted on a prenup. He didn’t have a choice and I really didn’t care. I thought we’d be married forever and have kids and grow old together.”
“Have you spoken to his parents about Mark’s future?”
“Once or twice, but it didn’t go well. His mom is very religious and to her, ending the feeding tube is the same thing as murder. The last time I tried to talk to her about it, she told me that the week before, Mark had opened his eyes and stared at her, and she read that as a sign he’s getting better. She’s convinced that if she prays enough, Mark will just suddenly blink and be back to normal one day. As for his dad, I think he just wants to keep peace in his own house.”
“So you’re left in a kind of limbo.”
“For now,” she agreed.
“You could get a divorce.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because even if there’s less than a one