PART 1: The Promise
Three days before my wife died, she asked me to find the woman I had spent forty years trying to forget.
Then she tightened her fingers around mine and whispered, “Please forgive me in advance.”
I thought the illness had confused her. I wanted to believe that so badly that, for a little while, I did.
The hospital room smelled of disinfectant and the lavender lotion Carol liked me to rub into her hands. She had always complained about dry skin in winter. Even now, with everything else slipping beyond my control, I could still do that small thing for her.
I worked the lotion gently over her knuckles, careful around the tape holding her IV in place.
“Remember when I painted the porch swing?” I asked.
Her eyes opened. “That terrible green.”
“You picked it.”
“I picked sage. You came home with something closer to a traffic light.”
I laughed, and for a moment, she looked pleased with herself.
“Rebecca wanted pink,” I said.
“Rebecca was four. She wanted the entire world pink.”
Then Carol shifted against the pillow and winced, and the moment was over.
Two days earlier, a doctor had taken me into the hallway and explained that the treatments were no longer helping. I remembered watching his mouth while he spoke, waiting for a sentence that included something we could try.
It never came.
Now I sat beside the woman I had loved for almost four decades, talking about paint because I couldn’t bear to talk about goodbye.
Carol had found me during a miserable stretch of my life. She never demanded explanations when I went quiet. She brought dinner, asked about my day, and kept showing up until I began looking forward to the sound of her car.
Loving her had happened gradually. Eventually, I couldn’t imagine our kitchen without her in it.
Early in our relationship, she told me she couldn’t have children. I told her that wouldn’t change how I felt. Later, when she suggested adoption, I discovered how badly I wanted to be a father.
We married, and soon afterward, we brought Rebecca home.
“Tell me about Sunday breakfast,” Carol murmured.
