The physician took a long time deciding, then, as if he found it acutely difficult, finally agreed with a nod.

“Thank you,” Jack whispered. He could rest now. Could shut his eyes and sink into the beckoning oblivion.

He heard the soft crush of footsteps as the physician walked out of the room.

Jack lost track of time. It could have been five minutes, possibly ten; he didn’t know. The next thing he heard was Lorraine’s agonized scream.

“No, no! Please, no!”

Hearing her wrenched his heart. The sound of her sobs followed. Plaintive, pitiful, filled with an agony that touched all who heard them.

Jack closed his eyes and wished he could close off his hearing, as well.

From this point forward, he was dead to Lorraine and she was dead to him.

Seventeen

Six months passed before Lorraine was able to sleep through the night. Each time she awoke, an intense sadness settled over her—worse even than the harsh grief she’d felt at the unexpectedness of her mother’s death. Often she lay in bed, grateful for the darkness, for the silence, and clutched the memories of Jack to her heart.

Finally she understood the poet’s claim that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. In years past she’d scoffed at those very words, considered them foolish. No more. Even though she would have escaped this pain if she’d never met Jack, she knew she’d gladly go through it all again. Those weeks with him were the most precious of her life. She treasured each and every day.

It hurt, this pain that was sharper than anything she’d ever known, and still she was grateful.

“You’ve changed,” Gary told her when they met for lunch early in the month of November.

She could only agree.

“You seem more…resilient.”

“Talking about people who’ve changed,” she said, turning the tables on him, “I hardly recognize you anymore.” They sat in a Thai restaurant, one they’d frequented while dating.

Gary had the good grace to blush. “I credit it all to love.”

Had she never known Jack, Gary’s words would have offended her, but oddly enough she understood. Jack’s love had changed her, too.

Her former fiancé had married Marjorie Ellis within a month of Lorraine’s return. At the time she’d been in too much pain to really care. Only later did she experience a bitterness mingled with regret and relief. She was happy for Gary and Marjorie, but it hurt that she’d tried to be thoughtful of him and he hadn’t afforded her the same consideration.

In time she got over those feelings and found herself pleased that her friend had fallen in love. She’d always enjoyed Gary’s company. But she knew she’d never truly loved him. Not the way she’d loved Jack. Her fondness for Gary couldn’t compare to the intensity of what she felt for the man who’d given his life to save hers.

Gary set aside his menu. Lorraine wondered why he bothered to look. For as long as she could remember, he’d ordered the same dish every time they ate at the Thai Garden.

“Marjorie should be here any minute,” he said. His eyes brightened as he said his wife’s name.

Lorraine had met Marjorie on a number of occasions and liked her a great deal. She approved of the changes that loving Marjorie had brought about in Gary. He was more relaxed and spontaneous, more sensitive to others. It was obvious that they were meant to be a couple.

“Sorry I’m late,” Marjorie said as she rushed toward the table. Slipping off her shoes, she stepped up to the padded cushions and lowered herself beside Gary in the private booth. “The doctor was behind schedule and—” She stopped abruptly as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

It took Lorraine a moment to discern her meaning. “You’re pregnant!” she said, eyeing the two of them.

Gary and Marjorie both seemed to freeze, awaiting her reaction.

“That’s absolutely wonderful!” Lorraine was genuinely delighted. “I’m thrilled for you.” She reached across the table and squeezed Marjorie’s hand. “How far along?”

“Three months,” Marjorie said. Gary, who’d never demonstrated a burning desire for parenthood, simply beamed.

“We didn’t want to wait, seeing that Brice is already nine,” he said.

“We didn’t want to wait, period.” Marjorie smiled as she flattened her hand over her stomach. “The baby was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.”

Now Lorraine understood why Gary had invited her to lunch. “You’re going to make a great father,” she said, and meant it.

“I’m a little nervous about a baby, but Brice said if he could put up with dirty diapers and fussy infants, then so could I.”

“Gary’s great with Brice,” Marjorie told her.

“I think that’s because he finally has someone his own age to play with,” Lorraine teased. The two women laughed, and so did Gary. Actually, Lorraine figured, it wasn’t far from the truth. Gary was crazy about baseball, and apparently so was Brice. Lorraine had recently stopped by the house on a Sunday afternoon and discovered Gary and Brice glued to the television, watching the World Series. They’d given each other high fives and hooted noisily until Marjorie and Lorraine were forced to adjourn to the kitchen.

“I prefer to think that Brice is mature for his age,” Gary muttered.

The waitress came for their order. She glanced at Gary and Lorraine several times as if to say something wasn’t right. It was a look they often received when Marjorie joined them. Since they’d dated for so long, people naturally seemed to consider them a couple.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Marjorie asked.

Was it that time of year already? Lorraine could hardly believe it. For months now she’d been dragging herself through each day, praying for the strength to endure, the courage to continue alone. That was the key word. Alone.

She was grateful now that her mother’s house hadn’t sold. Soon after her return from Mexico, she’d moved in, needing the comfort of familiar things around her.

“We’d like it if you could join us for dinner on Thanksgiving,” Marjorie said.

Lorraine heard the invitation, but didn’t respond until she noticed that Marjorie and Gary were waiting for her answer. Both regarded her with concern. Suddenly she realized the invitation had been prompted by guilt as much as affection. It wasn’t necessary; neither of them needed to feel guilty on her account. If Gary hadn’t beaten her to it, she would have broken off the engagement herself.

“I…I’m not sure,” Lorraine said.

“Will you be visiting your father?” Gary asked.

“No.” Her quick response concealed neither her anger nor her pain. She didn’t want to think about Thomas Dancy and in fact had refused to deal with the emotions that beset her every time his name was mentioned.

He should have told Lorraine the truth about Azucena, but instead, had left her to discover it on her own. That was, perhaps, what hurt the most. Thomas had failed her the same way he’d failed her mother. All those years, Virginia had loved him, idolized him, been faithful to him. Not once had she looked at another man. Not once had she been disloyal to his memory.

When Jack was first taken to the hospital, she’d turned to her father for emotional support, but she regretted that now. He’d tried to comfort her when the doctor came to tell her Jack had died, but she was beyond solace.

As soon as it could be arranged, she’d returned to Louisville, where she belonged. Her father had written her a number of times since, but she hadn’t answered his letters. Wouldn’t have known what to say if she had. Thomas Dancy had made a new life for himself, had another wife, other children. She was part of the painful past, tied to a dead marriage and a woman he’d betrayed. It would be better for everyone if she stayed out of his world—and kept him out of hers.

“Lorraine? We were talking about Thanksgiving?” Gary’s voice cut into her musings.

“Oh, sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Are you ready to talk about what happened in Mexico yet?” The question came from Marjorie, asked with kindness and compassion. Without Lorraine’s ever having spoken about it, Marjorie knew she’d endured some horrible trauma.

“No,” she said brokenly, “not yet.” And perhaps not ever. Lorraine hadn’t shared her memories of Jack. Not with Gary and Marjorie or her friends at work.

Gary was right. She was different, and always would be for having loved and lost Jack. Really, what could she tell them? How could she explain that she’d died that day in the jungle outside Mexico City? How could she explain that she only went through the motions of living now? That she struggled to make sense out of life and death, struggled to gain acceptance and peace in a world that seemed devoid of both?

Jack endured six hideous months. The pain was physical, the suffering emotional. Twice now he’d fallen in love, and both times it had been a disaster. Each day he lay in his hospital bed, the pain so bad it was impossible to sleep. But he welcomed the physical agony. It diverted his attention from thoughts of Lorraine.

His back, he learned, had been broken. That came as no surprise. Nor did the five other broken bones, plus internal injuries. The doctors hadn’t made any promises about walking again. Most seemed surprised he’d survived, but no one more so than Jack. He would have shaken hands with death any number of times. Been glad to give up the fight. Even now he cursed God for playing such a cruel trick. If he’d wanted a reward for the noble gesture of sending Lorraine back to her husband, this wasn’t it.

The second week of November, Jack stood on his own for the first time since he’d entered the hospital. Stood, not walked. Sweat broke out across his brow at the amount of energy required to maintain an upright position.

Someone clapped loudly behind him.

Jack dared not glance over his shoulder for fear of losing his balance, precarious at best.

“Good going.”

“Murphy?” Jack couldn’t believe his ears. His knees gave out on him, and he fell back into his wheelchair. His strength deserted him; otherwise he would have whirled the chair around and cursed out his friend. He wasn’t in the mood for company, and he didn’t want anyone’s sympathy.

Murphy’s long strides devoured the distance between them. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Jack turned purposefully away. “What are you doing here?”

“What else? I came to see you.”

Jack didn’t meet Murphy’s eyes. “Then you made a wasted trip.”

His friend walked a circle around him, shaking his head. “A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

Jack ignored the comment. He knew Letty and Murphy had been phoning weekly for updates on his condition, talking to Dr. Berilo and the hospital staff. Jack hadn’t wanted to talk to them himself and hoped they’d get the message. Apparently they hadn’t.

“Doc says you can leave the hospital soon,” Murphy said, facing Jack.