"Are you cold?"
To the bone. She nodded and tried gingerly to sit up as he crossed the room and flicked the switch for the gas fireplace. With a whoosh, blue and orange flames shot up from the fake log, tinting the dark room with a soft golden light.
When he came back and settled in beside her, she reached up slowly, traced the outline of his lips with the tip of her finger. "You first ravished me on the floor in front of a fire, remember?"
He smiled; like a blind woman, she felt his lips curve with the sensitive pad of her finger. "If I remember correctly, you were doing the ravishing."
"And what if I wanted to ravish you now?"
He looked so scared that she wanted to laugh, but it wasn't funny. "Can we?"
He took her in his arms. She knew they were both thinking that she'd lost so much weight there was almost nothing left of her.
Nothing left of her.
She closed her eyes and tightened her hold around his neck.
The bed seemed so big suddenly, like a sea of soft white cotton compared to the bed downstairs that had become hers.
Slowly, Kate took off her robe and peeled out of her nightgown, trying not to notice how white and sticklike her legs were. Even worse was the battlefield that had been her breasts. She looked ruined, like a little boy, only there were the scars.
Johnny stripped out of his clothes, kicked them aside, and climbed back into bed beside her, drawing the covers up to their hips.
Her heart was thumping hard as she looked at him.
"You're so beautiful," he said, and leaned forward to kiss her scars.
Relief and love cracked her open inside. She kissed him, her breath coming hard and ragged already. In their twenty years of marriage they'd made love thousands of times, and it was always great, but this was different; they had to be so gentle. She knew he was terrified of breaking her bones. She hardly remembered later how it had all happened, how she'd come to be on top of him; all she knew was that she needed every part of him, and everything that she was, that she'd ever been, was irrevocably tied up with this man. When he finally entered her, slow and easy, filling her, she came down to meet him, and in that glorious second, she was whole again. She bent down and kissed him, tasting his tears.
He cried out her name so loudly she silenced him with her palm; if she'd had any breath left she would have laughed at his outburst and whispered, The kids!
But her own orgasm, seconds later, made her forget everything except the pleasure of this sensation.
Finally, smiling, feeling young again, she snuggled up against him. He put an arm around her and pulled her close. They lay there a long time, half sitting against the mound of pillows, watching the firelight, saying nothing.
Then, quietly, Kate said what had been on her mind for a long time. "I can't stand to think of you alone."
"I won't ever be alone. We've got three kids."
"You know what I mean. I'd understand if you and Tully—"
"Don't." He looked at her finally, and in the eyes she knew as well as her own she saw a pain so deep she wanted to weep.
"It was always you. Just you, Katie. Tully was a one-night stand, a long time ago. I didn't love her then and I never have. Not for a second. You're my heart and soul. My world. How can you not know that?"
She saw the truth in his face, heard it in the tremble in his voice, and she was ashamed of herself. She should have known this all along. "I do know that. I'm just so worried about you and the kids. I hate to think . . ."
This conversation was like swimming through acid; it burned through flesh and bone. "I know, baby," he said finally. "I know."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The day of the summer play dawned crisp and clear. A beautiful Northwest autumn afternoon. Kate wanted to help Marah prepare for the big event, but she was too weak to do much. Smiling took effort. The pain behind her eyes was constant now, like the bleating beat of an alarm clock that couldn't be turned off.
And so Kate handed over her duties to Tully, who performed them like a champ.
Kate slept through most of it. By the time night had fallen, she was as rested as she could be and ready to face the challenge of what lay ahead.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" Tully asked at six forty-five.
"I'm ready. Maybe you should put some makeup on me so I don't scare little kids."
"I thought you'd never ask. And I brought you a wig to wear—if you want it."
"I'd love it. I would have thought of it myself if I had any brain cells left." She reached for her oxygen mask and took a few hits.
Tully left the room and returned with her makeup kit.
Kate angled her bed up and closed her eyes. "This feels like the old days."
Tully talked as she worked her magic, penciling on eyebrows, gluing on lashes. Kate let herself be carried away on the tide of her friend's voice. "I have a gift, you know. Do you have a razor?"
Kate meant to laugh. Maybe she even did.
"Okay," Tully finally said. "Time to try on the wig."
Kate blinked, realizing she'd fallen asleep, and grinned. "Sorry about that."
"Don't worry about me. I love it when people fall asleep while I'm talking."
Kate pulled the stocking cap off her head and the mittens off her hands. She was always freezing cold.
Tully put the wig on, positioned it, then helped Kate dress in a black wool dress with tights and boots. In the wheelchair, they wrapped her in blankets, then Tully wheeled her over to the mirror. "Well?"