Keeper of the Light

He set down the newspaper and took her hand, drawing it onto his thigh. “So what does that mean exactly?” he asked.

“I’ll have to go to Chicago. The surgery’s scheduled for Tuesday.” She wrinkled her nose, and when she spoke again her voice was small, hesitant. “Do you think you could go with me?”

“Of course.” He let go of her hand and smoothed her hair over her shoulder. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“You bet.” She stood up and bent over to kiss him. “I’ll start breakfast.”

She was quiet for the rest of the day, and he didn’t press her to talk. He sensed she was grappling with something that she needed to work out on her own. At dinner that night, she told the children as much as she knew about the little girl who would surely die without her help. Lacey and Clay were eleven and fifteen, and they listened carefully, with serious faces. They would stay at Nola’s, Annie told them, and she and Alec would be home Wednesday night.

“How do they get the bone marrow out of you and into the girl?” Lacey asked.

“Well,” said Annie, her face animated, “first they’ll put us both to sleep so we don’t feel any pain. Then they’ll make a little incision in my back and take the marrow out with a needle and that’s that. The doctor said I’ll have a stiff back for a few days, but that will be the worst part. And I’ll be saving the little girl’s life.”

That night she could not sleep. She tossed and turned, finally working her way into Alec’s arms. “Please hold me,” she said.

She trembled as he pulled her close to him, and when she rested her head on his bare shoulder, he could feel the warm dampness of her cheek and knew she’d been crying.

He held her tighter. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so scared,” she whispered. “I’m so scared I’m going to die during the surgery.”

He was alarmed. It was so unlike Annie to give a thought to herself. He leaned away from her, trying to see her eyes in the darkness. “Then don’t do it,” he said. “You don’t have to do it.”

“I do.” She sat up, facing him, her hand on his chest. “It’s a child’s only chance.”

“Maybe there were other matches.”

“They said I was the only one.”

“Christ. Nothing like a little guilt trip.”

“The feeling is so strong.” She shivered. “As though I’m definitely going to die. It would be punishment for all the bad things I’ve done.”

He laughed and lifted her hand from his chest to his lips. “You’ve never done a bad thing in your life.”

“I can’t stand the thought of not getting to watch Lacey and Clay grow up.” She began crying in earnest, and he knew her imagination was taking over as it so often did, tormenting her with the worst possible fantasy. “I’d never get to hold my grandchildren. I want to grow old with you, Alec.” She was pleading, as though there was something he could do to assure her of a perfect future.

“I want you to back out of this, Annie.” He sat up too, holding her hands, squeezing them between his palms. “Blame it on me. Tell them…”

“I can’t. The little girl needs…”

“I don’t give a damn about the little girl.”

She snapped her hands away from his. “Alec! How can you say that?”

“She’s anonymous. I don’t know her and I never will. You, on the other hand, I know very well, and you’re too frightened. It’s not good for you to go into surgery feeling this way.”

“I have to do it. I’ll be all right. I’m just…” She shook her head. “You know how nuts you can get in the middle of the night.” She lay down again and snuggled next to him, and it was another minute before she spoke again.

“Let me just ask you something, though,” she said. “Hypothetically.”

“Mmm?”

“If I died, how long would you wait before you started going out with someone?”

“Annie. Cancel the damn surgery.”

“No. I mean it, Alec. Tell me. How long?”

He was quiet for a moment, aware of how quickly he could lose her. She could, in a perfectly voluntary surgery, leave him forever. He pulled her closer. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to be with anyone else,” he said.

“You mean, sexually?”

“I mean period.”

“Well, God, I wouldn’t want you to be alone forever. But if I did die, would you wait a year please? I mean, that’s not too long to grieve for someone you completely and thoroughly adore, is it? That’s all I ask. Then you can do whatever you like, although it would be nice if you could think of me from time to time, and find your new woman lacking in almost every way.”

“Why not in every way?” he asked, smiling. “Go for broke, Annie.” He raised himself up on his elbow and kissed her. “Maybe we’d better make love one last time since you already seem to have a foot out the door.” He slipped his hand to her breast, but she caught his fingers.

“You didn’t promise yet, Alec,” she said. “Just one year. Please?”