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like Carly, and he somehow felt certain that Katie was the kind of
woman Carly had once spoken about.
In the final weeks of Carly’s life, he had maintained a vigil beside
her bed. Even though she slept most of the time, he was afraid of
missing those times when she was conscious, no matter how short
they might be. By then, the left side of her body was almost
paralyzed, and speech was difficult for her. But one night, during
a brief lucid period in the hour just before dawn, she’d reached for
him.
“I want you to do something for me,” she said with effort, licking
her cracked lips. Her voice was hoarse from disuse.
“Anything.”
“I want you to be… happy.” At this, he saw the ghost of her old
smile, the confident, self-possessed smile that had captivated him
at their first meeting.
“I am happy.”
She gave a faint shake of her head. “I’m talking about the future.”
Her eyes gleamed with the intensity of hot coals in her sunken
face. “We both know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t.”
She ignored his response. “Marrying you… being with you every
day and having children with you… it’s the best thing I’ve ever
done. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”
His throat closed up. “Me, too,” he said. “I feel the same way.”
“I know,” she said. “And that’s why this is so hard for me.
Because I know that I’ve failed—”
“You haven’t failed,” he broke in.