The Perfect Happiness(107)

She got up, staggered over to Anxious, and untied her hands and feet.

“Go and get help, as quickly as you can!”

Angelica’s voice was commanding, and Anxious gathered herself, grateful to be of use once more. She hurried out of the room, determined to raise the alarm.

Angelica ran into the kitchen, past the pile of slaughtered dogs, to the telephone. As Anxious had informed her, the line was dead. For a moment she slumped over the sideboard, defeated. The dead dogs lay like sodden coats, reminding her of the gravity of their predicament, and she gave in to a wave of helplessness. This is not happening, she thought, closing her eyes. But it was happening, and she had to be strong for Jack. Pulling herself together, she grabbed some tea towels and returned to the dining room. As she pressed the towels into Jack’s shoulder, she noticed he had gone very pale.

“Hang on, Jack. You’re going to be all right. Help is on its way.”

“I have something to tell you, Sage.”

“Nothing matters, darling. Don’t waste your energy.”

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not. You’re going to be okay.”

“Listen to me, Angelica.” His tone was firm. She stopped talking. He held her naked arm with a blood-soaked hand and stared into her eyes. “I’ve been dying for years.”

Her stomach lurched with his constant reference to his own mortality. “What are you talking about?”

“I have lung cancer, Angelica.”

Her hands began to tremble as she mopped his shoulder with a tea towel. “I know. Scarlet told me. But you’re better now.”

“No, I’m not.” He winced with pain as she put pressure on his torn flesh. “It came back. There was nothing more the doctors could do for me. I’m dying, Angelica, whether I die of a bullet to my shoulder or from the cancer in my lungs. The truth of the matter is, I have very little time to live. That is why I wanted to live it fully.”

“It’s not true!” She began to shake with frustration. “I’m not going to listen to this! We need to get help! I’m not going to let you die.”

“It doesn’t really matter one way or another. We’ve had fun, haven’t we?”

“And we’ll have more fun. More sundowners. More rides across the veld. Our lives are just beginning.”

But Jack shook his head forlornly. “No, my darling Sage. My life is ending.”

“I won’t believe you! I’ve dreamed of growing old with you. I’ve fantasized about leaving Olivier for you, bringing the children out here, starting afresh with the man I love. I’ve dreamed of sacrificing everything for you. Don’t tell me you’re dying. I won’t believe you!”

“You must. I didn’t want to tell you and spoil everything. But there’s a very good chance, by the size of this pool of blood, that I might die at any minute. So I want you to know the truth: that you have kept me going these last few months. That without your love and laughter I would have sunk into depression as my life slowly ebbed away.”

She stopped attending his wound and slumped beside him.

“Are you telling me that all the while we’ve been together, you’ve known that you’re dying?”

“Yes. I should have told you, but for my own selfish reasons, I couldn’t. At first you were just another beautiful woman who captured my attention. But you are different from every other woman in the world.” He rested his head against hers. “I love the way you make fun of yourself and the way you laugh. I love your vagueness and your vulnerability, and yet your intelligence shines out in spite of your lack of confidence. I love the way you challenge yourself and the way you write, allowing your heart to spill onto the page. I love the way you blush when I compliment you and the way you make love with such abandon. There’s no one else like you, Sage. Before I knew what I was doing, you crawled beneath my skin and I realized I couldn’t live without you. I thought I knew what love was, but I hadn’t a clue until I loved you. You gave me the will to live. You made me feel strong enough to beat anything life threw at me, including my cancer. But not even your indomitable spirit could beat that.” He winced again as the pain seared through his body. “I wasn’t in London on business, but seeing a healer I hoped might save me.”

“Mrs. Homer.”

“Scarlet’s scarlet woman!” He chuckled weakly.

“Oh, Jack.”

“I was clutching at straws. I so want to live. I haven’t done half the things I want to do.”

“You’ll do all those things and more.”

“No, I won’t. I won’t live to take my daughters down the aisle. I won’t watch them become mothers. I won’t be there to support them when they fail, to knock the lights out of boyfriends who treat them badly. I won’t ride with you across the veld and picnic at Sir Lowry’s Pass and make love to you. I just won’t be here anymore, and that is impossible to comprehend or accept.”