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Beach Rental(56)

By:Grace Greene


“Go ahead. What?”

“Now, I’m regretting the decision not to seek aggressive treatment. The odds wouldn’t have been good even then, but maybe.” He drew in a slow, ragged breath. “I made an appointment with him for today thinking it might still be worth a try, even if it only extended….”

He fell silent again. The answer he’d found in his doctor’s office seemed obvious given his downcast air. Gently, she squeezed his hand.

“I hope you aren’t angry Luke took me. I didn’t want to say anything to you about it until after I’d spoken with the doctor. False hope and all that.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Juli, I haven’t really lived in many years. I didn’t know it. I had things, people, events in my life, but no real heart since Deb died. Dr. Lewis said I’d waited too long. For treatment, I mean.” He snatched his hand away and placed the heels of both fists against his forehead.

Juli’s chest seized and her heart ached. For his regret, she could think of nothing to say except the usual platitudes and that wasn’t enough. Before this, her personal relationships had never been close. She mentally rummaged through what experience she did have and came up empty. Words failed her. Her lips felt numb.

It was as if a weight was pressing hard against the back of her eyes, forcing moisture out even as she fought crying. She wanted to support Ben, not bring him down further. Why should she care so much about him? This was a business relationship—or rather he crafted their relationship as a business arrangement because her heart wasn’t engaged—because it wouldn’t hurt her.

But she didn’t know him then, his value, and he didn’t know her. They didn’t know they would come to care about each other. He cared a great deal, Juli knew. Her chest ached, her throat was tight, and the pressure behind her eyes was relentless.

Juli reached over and reclaimed his hand. Her pain at the thought of his loss must surely communicate itself in the tight grip of her fingers, the almost-controlled trembling and the warmth of her flesh. These sensations must say what she couldn’t vocalize. Oh, Ben, I love you.

He leaned toward her as she leaned toward him. The awkwardness of the two separate chairs didn’t prevent them from reaching each other, their hands enfolding. Their foreheads touched in mute despair. When they stood, Juli rested her face on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was a fool.”

“What?”

“A fool. An arrogant fool to think I was ready to die. Remember how I told you that for me it was almost instant, the feeling that I wanted to be with you? I was a fool to think it was enough to bring you into my life for companionship for a few weeks, that it would be good for both of us. A liar. I lied to us both, but it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are many ways to lie.” He pulled her more tightly into his embrace. “You were the breath of life, a stranger who didn’t see me as a dying loved one, someone with whom I could pretend I had a future, as if you were a lifesaver I could attach myself to, then leave quietly without regret when the time came. I was a fool. I’m not afraid of death, and I’ll go when God says it’s time, but I don’t want to die now, not yet. I want to be with you.”

She felt his breath on her hair as he worked his fingers through it, caressing the back of her head, the nape of her neck. A sigh slipped past her parted lips. He urged her head back, stared into her eyes, then slowly his lips touched hers. Their kiss was something they built together, designed by love and grief.

Finally, offended by the premature tears, Juli broke the spell of the kiss.

“You aren’t dead yet. You don’t even seem sick. Not very. Just tired.”

She wouldn’t mention his discomfort, or how thin he’d gotten. He needed to eat more, and treatment might help that. “We’ll go see the doctor together. I’m going with you this time, no argument. If there’s nothing to be done, I want to hear it for myself.” Stubborn, digging in against fate, was her style. Not bewailing her fate, but instead, fighting it tooth and nail.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a shaky smile. “I love you. I love you for many things, in so many ways. I won’t try to list them. I love those things because they are you—all a part of you. When I think of you I see crystal, brilliant with light, and diamonds, strong and beautiful.”

She laughed. “More like a junkyard dog.”

“Persistent, yes, but glorious in action. Nothing junkyard dog about it.”