~~~

Late one afternoon, Kevin returned from the farmer's market to find the house in darkness.

"Chrissy?"

The skies outside were unseasonably dark, a late fall storm on the horizon.

He called out again. "Chris?"

Turning on the small lamp by the sofa, he found her: silent, enshrouded in an afghan, staring blankly at the empty fireplace.

Her demeanor struck fear into his heart. He tried one last time, softly so as not to frighten her.

"Chris, I'm home," he whispered.

"I know. How was shopping?" she asked, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Fine." This had to be one of the more inane conversations he'd ever participated in.

"Good."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not especially."

"The fruit selection was especially good-" God, stop me now, he thought.

"I'm tired. I think I'll go lay down before dinner."

He watched her every expression, or lack thereof, becoming more perplexed by the moment. "Sure. I'll call you when it's ready."

"Thanks." She paused in front of him, taking a moment to look deeply into his eyes. Laying her hand against his cheek, she stretched on her tiptoes, placing a gentle kiss on his mouth. "You're a good friend, Kevin. Thank you."

He brushed his hand over her head, slipping easily through the short wisps that barely brushed the tops of her ears. "Go on, get some rest."

It wasn't until he turned back toward the kitchen that he saw the paper that had fallen to the floor. Instinctively he knew that what it contained would change their lives forever, yet he was no more able to stop himself from reading it than he was able to stop the sun from rising in the morning.

A thin parcel, it was covered in cornflower blue paper that he recognized all too well ... a legal document.

Scanning the words, he immediately recognized the intent.

"... State of Florida ... named herein, I, James W. Anderson ... citing irreconcilable differences .... hereby petition Christa L. Anderson ... dissolution of marriage ..."

Flinging the offending papers across the room, he sank onto the sofa, burying his face wearily in his hands.

One more blow. How much more could she take? And *now* what? Dear God, what now?

~~~

It was nearly 9 p.m. when Chrissy finally emerged. The rain was pelting the windows and the house was dark, save for the fire Kevin had built. Soft music was playing, and he was reading in the recliner.

"Good book?" she asked quietly.

"Not especially," he answered closing it softly. "Hungry?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Whatcha got?"

"Salad ala Richardson," he grinned. "Pull up a blanket by the fire, and I'll bring it out."

"Kev ..."

He paused mid-stride. "Hmm?"

"Thanks."


"Anything for you, you know that."

~~~

Dinner was a silent affair, the unspoken events of the day weighing heavily between them.

Together they cleared the dishes, settling in front of the fire with a glass of wine.

Long moments passed as Chrissy watched the flames, the sparks reflecting in her eyes. Finally, she spoke.

"You read it, didn't you." A statement, not a question.

"I'm sorry."

"For reading it or-"

"Chris, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

"What I'm *thinking*? God, Kevin, how can you ask me that?" She turned on him. "My husband has left me, I have cancer, I'm dying -"

Her voice broke and he was beside her in an instant gathering her into his arms.

"Irreconcilable differences," she laughed, on the verge of hysteria. "Can you believe it? The only irreconcilable thing about our relationship is that he can't face life with an invalid. Let alone an invalid who would be permanently disfigured."

"Stop it."

"He-"

"Do you love him?"

"What?" The question served its purpose; it brought her back to the present, a shocked expression on her face. "I married him -"

"That's not what I asked you."

"He promised me ..."

"A lot of things, didn't he? But where the hell is he, Chrissy?" His anger was getting the best of him, and there would be no stopping it this time. "Where has he been while you've been fighting this goddamned disease? Has he been here to hold your hand? To wash your face when you've thrown up the last of your lunch after yet another fucking session of chemo? Was he there to hold you and tell you he'd love you no matter what?"

"Kevin-" she whispered, tears flowing freely down her face.

"No, he wasn't." He grasped her arms, raising her to her knees so that they were now at eye level. "That's not love, Chrissy. *This* is love."

Without further thought, he grasped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. Kissing her thoroughly, he expressed more emotion in those few seconds than Chrissy had been exposed to during the whole of her marriage and it shook her to the core.

Pulling away, she gazed at him, an expression of profound wonder on her face.

When she would speak, he pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't Chris. Not a word," he whispered. "Just feel. *This* is what it's like to be loved. This is what you deserve every single day of your life, and you never have to settle for anything less. Not as long as I have breath in my body."

Gently she touched his face, smoothing away the tears he had no recollection of shedding. For the first time in her life, she had no doubts, not a single thought that what was to come was not the best choice she could possibly make.

Resting her forehead against his, she crossed the final bridge. Three small words sealed their destiny.