eyes with ice water, and very carefully I applied
makeup. Then, with no real words stashed in my brain to help him survive without me, I slipped through the maze. I knocked on Troy's blue door. There was no response, just as Tony had warned me there would be
none.
It was late now, about ten. There had never
been a more glorious evening. Birds snuggling down
for the night chirped and cheeped sleepily. Hundreds
of rose bushes wafted sweet perfume to tickle my
nostrils. Primroses and pansies glimmered beside his
blue door. Gardenia bushes waxed brightly in the
moonlight, their blossoms huge and almost blue. The
air was as soft as a lover's kiss, and he was inside,
shut away.
"Troy," I called as I opened his door and
hesitated on the threshold. "It's Heaven. I'm back. I'm
so sorry I fell ill and couldn't return on the day I
promised . ."
There was no response. There was no scent of
bread baking in the oven, or bread that had recently
been baked. The cottage was too still, too orderly,
frightening.
I ran to his bedroom, throwing open the door.
He lay on the bed, with his head turned toward the
open window. Soft breezes fanned out his curtains,
almost brushing a vase full of roses from a table. "Troy," I said again, moving closer to the bed.
"Please look-my way. Please say you forgive me for
not keeping my word; I wanted to, desperately wanted
to."
Still he didn't look my way. I drew closer, then
moved onto the bed, and gently turned his head my
way. The moonlight through the windows showed me