feeling that comforted me as much as it must have
comforted him.
"I feel guilty thinking about you, wanting you
at a time like this," he whispered.
"You mustn't feel that way. If we care for each
other, we can't be ashamed of needing each other," I
told him, though I was worried that Aunt Sara or May
might hear us.
"Oh Melody," he said. "I do care for you, love
you, need you more than I will ever need and love
anyone."
"Then throw your guilt overboard," I said and
he laughed. He rose, pulled of his shirt, unbuttoned
his trousers, and crawled under the cover beside me.
We kissed, held each other tightly, and then his hands
went under my nightgown until they found my
breasts. Our lovemaking was different, more like a
dream. We weren't driven by sexual appetite as much
as we were by the need to reassure each other. We
moved gently, slowly, and when it was over, he
slipped away so quietly and smoothly, I wondered if it
had actually happened. But his place beside me in my
bed was still warm from his body. I ran my hand over
it and moaned softly to my pillow.
Then I closed my eyes and didn't open them
again until the first light of morning kissed my face. I was almost afraid to rise, yet I couldn't escape the vivid memory of Uncle Jacob's heart stopping right before my eyes. As I showered and dressed I tried to think of something else, anything else, but still the memory returned. With trembling legs, I started down the stairs. Apparently, everyone else had risen before me. Aunt Sara was already in the kitchen
making pancakes and Cary and May were at the table. "Why didn't anyone wake me?" I asked. "Oh you wouldn't be sleeping if you didn't need
it," Aunt Sara said. I looked at Cary. His face had the
shine of polished stone, his eyes luminous with joy. "I called the hospital. Dad spent a good n
ight