Truth

held back. The man who propped himself on the bed, held his wife’s frail body, and watched her sleep upon his chest.
    “ I thought I told you to go to bed?”
    The deep voice startled Marie back to reality. She turned her tear stained cheeks toward the man who’d been in her thoughts. “I tried, but I couldn’t sleep.”
    “ So, can you sleep better in that chair?”
    Marie smiled, “No, but at least I’m doing something.”
    Nathaniel pulled another chair beside Marie’s, sat and squeezed Marie’s hand. “I can hire someone else to sit with her at night, so you can get more rest.”
    Marie turned away and tried to breathe, her emotions were overwrought. Her question came through with more dejection than she intended, “Do you also think I’m incapable of doing my job?”
    “ Marie, are you crying?”
    “ No.” She lied.
    His strong hand still covered hers. “I think you are more than capable. I just think you need a break. You can’t be by her side twenty-four hours a day.”
    “ What about you?”
    “ What about me?”
    “ You sit here half the night and work all day. You need sleep, too.”
    He smirked, “Do I, now?”
    “ You do. You can’t go on burning your candle at both ends. I suggest some time away from work, or more time sleeping.” His sly smile made her feel self-conscious; was he making fun of her? “All right, now why are you grinning? Are you laughing at me?” she asked.
    He tried to hide the smile showing through his dark sad eyes. The smile was a nice change to the solemn expression he often wore while observing his sleeping wife. “I’m not laughing; I’m amused.”
    “ Fine, be amused. Just get some sleep.”
    “ I don’t remember the last time someone told me what to do.” Nathaniel sat back and watched his wife. Marie didn’t go to bed; she sat and allowed him to talk. She couldn’t take away his pain. Perhaps, if he felt comfortable enough to express his thoughts, the ache would lessen, in some way. Nathaniel continued, “I do actually.”
    They were no longer looking at one another or touching. Both sat with their heads resting on the plush winged sides of the Queen Anne chairs, watching Sharron. Marie encouraged, “You do?”
    “ Sharron, she was the only person who was ever able to tell me what to do,” he chuckled, “and how to do it.” He went on describing the love of his life, her incredible beauty and tenacious will. “When I came home from the war, it wasn’t over, but my tour was. She’d written to me, and I her. We still have those letters in a box somewhere. I couldn’t wait to see her again, to hear her voice, and hold her.” He reached forward and picked up her frail hand. “I should show you pictures. I know what you see -- isn’t what I see. I still see the vibrant strong-willed girl I rushed home to marry.”
    Marie didn’t comment. The tears she’d shed earlier now had companions. Her heart broke for this man telling a beautiful love story, one which she knew had a cruel sad ending.
    “ Did I ever tell you, her family didn’t approve of me?”
    That was difficult to believe. After all, Nathaniel Rawls was an esteemed businessman. “No, why not?”
    “ Well, first her father didn’t like me,” and with a chuckle, “Believe me, the feeling was mutual. But mostly, it was because they had money. Not a lot, but they were comfortable. I barely had two pennies to rub together. He didn’t believe I could provide for his daughter, in the style to which she was accustomed .”
    Marie grinned, “You proved him wrong!”
    “ I did.” His voice didn’t sound triumphant, more melancholy.
    “ Did he ever admit he was wrong?”
    “ No. And that’s understandable; real men don’t apologize. Besides, he died before I made my first million. This,” he gestured with his hands, “has all been for her. And now, I have to keep going for her. I refuse to back away from any of it. Even if she isn’t with me, I’m still doing it all for her.”
    “ She still loves you.” It was surprisingly easy to carry on heartfelt conversations while not looking at one another. “Your voice excites her. Her heart beats stronger when you’re near.”
    “ Do you think she still knows?”
    “ Some days, some times. When I first started, she liked to look through old photo albums. I think it was her way to hold on to memories. She’d tell me stories about the two of you, when you were young, and about Mr. Samuel and Mr. Anton. You two had --