Their eyes were gentle, their faces solemn as they faced her.

     “What's wrong? Has something happened?” she whispered.

     The men in uniform stood rigid. “Your husband's dead.”

     “Dead?” she whispered back. She didn't believe it. They were lying to her—trying to make her believe a lie, trying to make her hurt.

     “We're sorry, ma'am. He was in an accident at the plant. Some chemicals exploded, and we're afraid he was seriously burnt. He died before the ambulance could get him to a hospital.” They paused, and she saw compassion deep in their eyes, etched into their grim frowns. “You'll have to come down to the morgue with us to identify the body.”

      She followed them to the car, then sat in silence as they drove her to the morgue. She knew it wasn't her husband. It was someone else. All she had to do was go in and look at the dead man, see that it wasn't her husband, tell them they had made a mistake...

     They opened the door for her. She stepped inside the room, and looked down at the body. His skin was black...the flesh curled and dented along one side of his face. One of his eyes was missing, but the other was clear and glassy, almost smiling.

     “This isn't my husband...” she breathed the words. Maybe if she voiced her wish aloud it would make it more true.
     An office put a hand on her shoulder and leaned close to her. “Are you sure, ma'am?” His voice matched his touch when it came to tenderness.

     “Of course I'm sure!” she spat. She cupped her mouth as a sob slipped out. “He doesn't look like that! That's not my husband!” She crumpled onto the floor, hiding her face in her hands. “That isn't him, I tell you!” She was screaming now, her voice high-pitched and sounding very much like a frightened child. “You must believe me. There has to be some mistake...”

      “Ma'am.” It was a different man now, his voice firm and demanding. “Is this your husband's wedding ring?”
      She looked up through her tears and nodded. “Yes,” she breathed.

      The man's face changed from sternness to sudden pity. “It was found on this man. I'm so sorry, but your husband is dead.”

      Beth slid out of bed, screaming on the floor as she tugged on the covers. “No, you don't understand!” she sobbed hysterically.

      Titus McReed yanked his covers back and ran around the bed, kneeling just beside her. “Shhh, baby. It's okay; you're having a dream.”

      She released the covers, still sobbing, and fell against him, letting him hold her in his strong arms. “He can't be dead...” he heard her whimper into his chest. “It isn't him...”

      Titus ran his hand along her hair, calming his thirty-two-year old wife. “It's okay, baby,” he kept repeating. He rocked her back and forth, thinking back to the day he'd married her. She had been grieving and alone, her husband just recently killed in an explosion. He's been so sorry for her, and she was so beautiful and young...
      He looked down at her now, and found that she was asleep. So he sat there in the floor, holding her tiny being, praying that her nightmares would stop. But he doubted they would. He doubted she would ever stop grieving the loss of her husband. He'd thought that after the newness of his death wore away, she could learn to love him as he loved her. But it had been six months—six months of hearing her talk of him, seeing the admiration for him in her eyes, feeling his love being rejected. Six months she had wished that the man sleeping beside her was a husband who was dead...

      Titus stood up and lifted her onto the bed. He carefully pulled the covers over her, then slipped in beside her. He stared into her lovely face, wondering as he often did if the man she had loved was as perfect as he sounded. “I love you, Beth,” he breathed quietly into her face. His eyes saddened. “I hope someday, you can learn to love me, too.”    

()()()()()()()()()()

      Amy sniffed a sob as she lay in her one room apartment. She ran a finger over her swollen abdomen, and felt the baby kicking inside. She wished she could call her parents—ask them what to do. But they hadn't spoken to her since she'd dropped out of tenth grade and left home. How in the world could she raise her son?
      She looked around her apartment, at the filthy furniture, the blaring TV set, the empty cans of beer. How had she let herself fall into such sin? Hadn't her parents warned her when she'd moved in with her buddies?
     Her newest boyfriend came in through the door, holding a cup in his hand that he kept spitting into. “Come on, chick. I want some money.” His hands shook, and the look in his eye was that of fierce desperation.
     “I told you, I don't have any,” she answered him, sitting up.
     He stumbled over to the bed and leaned over her. “Listen, babe. I need a fix something awful. I know you got dough, and I'll pay you back.”
     When she persistently shook her head, he slammed his fist into her jaw, knocking her head back. “Gimme the money, Amy! I'm gonna die, you sorry fool! I need it!”
     Amy started to sob. “I'm saving it for the baby! I need it for the hospital...and other things...please...”
     He pressed his hands on her stomach, and Amy froze, fearing what he might do. “Where is it?” came his deathly whisper. “It may be in your best interest to tell me.”
     Amy shoved his hands off of her. “Under the couch cushion. It's not much, just a few hundred...” She watched, fear-stricken, as he ran to the couch. He tossed away the cushion and grabbed up the wad of money. He looked back at her as he headed towards the door. “Thanks, babe. I'll bring you back some beer.”
      Amy shuttered as the door slammed behind him.
      

()()()()()()()()()()

     Beth cracked the egg into the bowl and began to stir the ingredients vigorously.
     “Are you making that cake, Beth?” she heard her husband's voice from behind her as he entered the room.
      She concentrated on the bowl as she stirred. “Uh huh. What time does the party start?”
      He came up behind her and placed his hand on her lower back. “We better leave here by five thirty.”
      “Oh,” was all she said.
      He turned her chin to look at him and smiled gently. His eyes were softer than normal, the look of sleep still on his face. “Did you put on coffee?” he asked her sweetly.
      She turned away from his look and continued to stir the cake. “I'm sorry, Ti. I forgot.”
      He kissed her cheek, his lips lingering a few seconds too long. She backed away and grabbed the Folgers coffee. “I'll fix some now.”
     Titus's heart burned with pain. His voice was quiet, defeated as he answered her, “No, Beth. I'll pick some up at Go-Mart on my way to work.” Having thus said, he disappeared from the kitchen.
      Beth poured the batter into the cake pan. Suddenly, she was twenty all over again, and her husband had just come in from work...
     The door slammed and she turned.
     There he stood, his black hair wind blown, his smile white against his tanned skin. “Hey, beautiful,” he said. He moved toward her and swept her up into his arms. Then he kissed her, softly and meaningfully, reminding her again just how much he loved her.
     “I'm baking you a cake,” she whispered to him when their kiss was broken.
     His lips grazed the side of her cheek. “Well, aren't you the perfect wife! I would have gotten married a long time ago if I knew this was how I would be treated.”
     She chuckled, and slipped out of his arms. She grabbed the bowl to pour into the cake pan...
     “Here, let me help you.” He stepped forward and held the bowl for her, letting her spatula it into the pan. He watched her intently as she worked, and finally she paused to look back at him.
     “What are you staring at?” she teased him.
      The smile he gave her made her heart start to race. “I'm staring at the most beautiful creature that ever walked God's earth.”
      Flustered, she continued with her spatula. When the bowl was empty, she took it from his hands. “Now, go and get your shower, Cameron Jones!” She shook the messy spatula at him. “If you think I'm going to eat supper with a dirty man, you've got another thing coming!”
     He laughed at her, then bent down to kiss her once more. “Yes, dear,” he said, and walked out of the kitchen.
     With a smile on her face, she took the cake pan to the oven...
     …and slid it inside. With a sigh, she leaned against the counter-top, not even trying to stop the tears that were sliding down her cheeks. “I miss you, Cameron,” she said to the empty kitchen. She remembered seeing his burnt, dead body—remembered the first night she came home to an empty bed. She remembered the guilt she'd felt as she accepted another man as her husband...
     That same man walked back into the kitchen, fully dressed in his fireman's uniform. “I'm leaving now, baby—” His words broke off at the sight of her tears. “You okay?”
     Beth turned away from him. “I'm fine, Titus! Will you stop asking me that all the time?”
     Next thing she knew he was beside her, his arm around her back. “I know you're hurting, Beth, and I want to help you—”
      “Well you can't, okay?” She twisted around and looked up at him, the anger evident in her eyes. “You didn't help me with the cake,” she stated flatly, as if this explained her tears.
     Titus crinkled his brow. “What?”
     She bit her lip to keep from sobbing. “I said you didn't help me with the cake.”
     He sighed. “I've never helped you with the baking before—”
     “Cameron always did.” Her words were sharp, cutting into his soul.
      His arm fell away from her back, and he was no longer touching her. He just stared at her for a long moment. “I'm sorry I've failed you so miserably, Beth.” He breathed an embittered sigh. “I won't be someone I'm not, and even if I could be, I don't think I'd ever compare to your Cameron.” With those words, he left her alone in the kitchen.

()()()()()()()()()()

     It was four thirty by the time Titus got back from work. He'd taken a shower and shaved at the station, and now wore a crisp white shirt, tucked into his dark jeans. He stepped inside of the house, and Beth met him at the door, holding the cake in her arms. She was wearing a knee-length, deep purple dress that fit her beautifully. Her hair was curled and piled on top of her head, with loose ringlets falling around her face and neck. Her make up was done to perfection, her lips shining with glossy lip-stick, her cheeks rosy and pink.
     “I thought we'd go early, if you were ready, so I could help the women get everything set up,” she said to him, her voice softer than usual.
     Titus just stared at her, his heart flip-flopping in his chest. She looked so fresh and clean. He couldn't imagine how he could have ever been angry with her.
      She must have sensed his approval of her looks, because she smiled only slightly. “Do you like the dress?”
      Titus reached out and took the cake from her arms, grinning at her. “I just hope the other firemen don't get jealous and try to steal you.”
     Beth smoothed her hand down the dress. “I wore this dress when Cameron and I went dancing, one time,” she murmured, as if forgetting he was there.
     Titus's grin crashed. Did she enjoy hurting him? Did she hate him that much?
     “Why don't you stay here, Beth.”
     Her head snapped up at the sound of his angry voice. The fire in his eyes was piercing her, intimidating her, making her tremble as she looked at him...
     “You don't want me to go?”
     Titus slammed the cake on the stand by the door. He stepped close to her, his jaw popping angrily. “I know you don't love me, Beth, and that's fine,” he seethed the words. “But, for the sake of Heaven, don't let me hear the name Cameron Jones in this house!”
      Her eyes pooled with big tears. “Ti, you know I can't do that—”
     “Yes, you can and you will! You are my wife, and you'll do as I say!” He grabbed her arms, holding her tightly. His voice dropped to a low tone, “I'll go to the party myself. When I first walked in here, Beth, I was proud of you. I was proud because I was going to bring you in front of all the men I work with and show you off some.” She was startled to see tears mist his own eyes. “I'll not leave you, Beth, because I know you need me. I'll be your partner as long as you're willing and I'll support you. But, who are we kidding? This isn't a marriage, and you know it,” wistfulness dripped off of each word, like bitter honey. “I'm moving into the guest bedroom so you won't have to suffer through sleeping beside a man that isn't Cameron.”
      She was crying now, the mascara smeared beneath her eyes. All she could do was nod, and without another word, Titus grabbed the cake and exited out the door.

()()()()()()()()()()

     Amy stood up, suddenly trembling. Her pants were drenched, her bed was wet...
     “I'm going to have my baby,” she whispered to the empty room. She drug herself to the door and stepped outside. The sun burned in her face, making the pounding in her temple increase. The world seemed to tip back and forth on its axis. Back...forth...back...

     She fell on the concrete as a contraction started. She looked around, but there was no one to help her. Most of the tenants stayed away during the day, then met at night and partied on lawn chairs on the sidewalks in front of the rooms.

     “Amy?”
     She turned her head wildly, and looked up into the face of the cleaning woman. “Please, I need help getting into my car! My water broke, and I'm too weak to get there...”
     Quickly taking control of the situation, the woman lifted her to her feet and helped her across the parking lot. She opened the door for her as she slipped inside, still breathing hard.

     “You're sick, Amy,” she stated sharply. “You got a bad fever.” She grunted as Amy started up the engine. “You'd think with a baby coming you would take better care of yourself—”

     Amy shut the door, blocking out the woman's words. Sprinkles of rain dotted the windshield in front of her as she mouth a quick “thanks” to the woman before pulling out. When she had driven the rickety vehicle to the interstate, she said the first prayer she'd said in a long time, “God if You can hear me, watch over this child.” She broke into a sob when another contraction hit. “I don't want to bring this baby home with me. I know I can't mother him good.” The rain started coming down harder, but she kept praying, “Help me, God. Oh, dear God, help me...”

()()()()()()()()()()

     She was numb—completely void of any feelings. Slowly, she walked though her house, came to the door of her attic, and went up the stairs. Her eyes skimmed over the card-board boxes, the storage containers, the totes stacked on top of each other.
     Wading through the things, she came to a small stack of boxes. She sat down on the floor and opened the first box. It was all the things she'd saved of his, all the treasures that she would sometimes come up here to look at.
     There was a half-used bottle of his favorite cologne. She sprayed it in the attic and closed her eyes, breathing it...
     They were standing at the Dairy Queen, waiting for their cones. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, making her feel cherished. “Has anyone told you yet today how cute you are?” he whispered in her ear.
     She shook her head no, knowing she was about to get herself kissed. She put her arms around his neck and smiled. “You smell good, you know that?”
     He raised a brow, as if this surprised him. “You think so?”
     “Uh huh,” she mused.
     He caressed his finger down her cheek. “Well, then. For you, I will wear this cologne on every date I take you on.”
     Beth looked perfectly thrilled.
     “And that, my dear, will require many bottles of cologne, because I plan on taking you on a lot of dates...” He bent down and pressed his lips against hers. They were soft and warm, urgent with the love that was burning in both of their hearts...
      Beth's face was expressionless. There were no tears in her eyes, only a cold indifference that was spreading to her soul. She clutched the bottle against her. Nothing mattered to her anymore. Life was a vicious, dull pattern of nostalgia—an endless yearning for the past—a hopeless love for a man that was never coming back to her. Titus had tried to take his place, but he wasn't the same. He wasn't like her Cameron. He didn't love her like Cameron did. No one could love like Cameron...
     Beth stood up and went down the stairs, still carrying the bottle in her hands. She walked outside of her house, got into her gray Toyota. She sat there in front of the wheel for a long minute, staring ahead of her. It had started to rain, and she watched the droplets splatter onto the windshield—every minute falling harder and faster until they made a million sounds that formed one melancholy song. Pitter-patter. He's dead. Pitter-patter. He's never coming back. Pitter-patter. No one loves you like Cameron...

     She turned the key, and the engine sputtered to life. She drove quickly, recklessly—not even taking time for the stop signs and red lights. She drove until she came to the river, parking over the tall bridge. Then she got out and walked through the rain. She ran her hand along the railing, watching the rapid river below her, studying the way it viciously roared and foamed...

      She stopped when she reached nearly the middle of the bridge. There were no cars in sight, no people around her. She was alone, utterly alone. It could all end so quickly. She could see Cameron. She could see the man she loved with one jump...

     She swung one leg over the railing, then the other. She sat there on the edge, debating, deciding, determining...

      And wondering just how wonderful it might be to die.

()()()()()()()()()()

      Amy gripped the wheel, gasping out a scream as another contraction hit her. “Oh, God!” she shouted. “Help me! Help me reach the hospital!”
     She squinted, trying to see past the rain that was pelting down on her cracked windshield. She saw a bridge ahead...
     Pain ripped through her, knocking her breath away. She was wet from her water breaking, and she found herself shivering so hard that her hands shook. She was coming onto the bridge, almost near the middle. A contraction hit—she lost control of the wheel—the car jerked and the tires squealed across the wet pavement.
     She saw a woman look her way...

()()()()()()()()()()

     Beth turned around, watching in horror as the car rammed into the railing of the bridge. She ran towards the car and threw open the door, gasping as a pregnant girl fell out of the drivers seat.
     Beth knelt down on the pavement beside her and lifted the girl's head into her lap. “It's okay, you're okay, hon. Are you in labor?”
     The girl screamed, her face twisting in anguish as a contraction hit her. “Help me...please...help...” Her body jerked with yet another contraction. “He's...coming...” she gasped. “My baby...boy...is coming...”
     “Let's get you to the hospital—”
     “No!” she gasped. “There's not...time! He's coming...!”

()()()()()()()()()()

     Titus came home early from the party, his mood anything but festive. He went to their room and started moving all his clothes to the guest room. When he was finished, he sat down on the bed and raked his fingers through his hair.
     “Oh, Lord,” he sighed. “What am I going to do with her?”
     Go to her. Tell her your sorry. Tell her you love her.
      He pushed the thoughts away. It wouldn't do any good. She would start crying about Cameron—she'd get that look of desperate yearning in her eyes.
     He'd heard of marriage problems—not being able to get along, or one spouse cheating on the other. But how do you fix a marriage when your wife is in love with her dead husband? How do you live up to a man that supposedly did no wrong in her eyes?
     He stood up and looked out the window. Her gray Toyota was gone...
     He stiffened. Where in the world would she have gone tonight, of all night? Hadn't she been emotionally a wreck after their argument?
     Dropping back on the bed, he tried to push his mind away from her. He fell asleep just minutes later with uneasiness in the depths of his heart.

()()()()()()()()()()

     Beth trembled as she clutched the baby against her chest and stared into the face of his mother.
     “Is he...okay?” the girl whispered.
     Beth barely caught her words over the roar of the baby's crying. “Yes! He's beautiful, but we've got to get you to a hospital.”
      She shook her head, glancing down to the pavement. The blood was puddling around her, and even when the rain washed it away, there was always more. “No,” she choked over the words. “I don't think I'll make it.”
     “You have to!” Beth leaned close to her and wiped a strand of wet hair away from her eyes. “You're baby needs you.”
      “Will you...keep him?” Her eyes bore into Beth's. “Please, say you'll keep him! I want him...to have a good home...”
     Beth looked down into the child's features, wiping the rain away from his pink face. “Where's his father?”
     She was struggling to breath, her face was growing paler. Beth knew that no doctor could help her now.
     “Where's his father?” she repeated the question.
     “Dead.”
     Beth looked back at the child, into his dark and beautiful eyes...
     “What was his name?” She wasn't quite sure what caused her to ask that question, but she felt her heart speeding up as she turned her eyes to the young mother.
     “Jones,” she whispered, “Cameron Jones.”
      Beth's heart stopped. She couldn't breath—couldn't move. Her Cameron? No. Surely not. There was some mistake...
     “He was your husband?” Beth breathed the words.
     “No,” was the weak reply. “He had a wife...I think...”
     Beth leaned closer to catch her words.
     “He came to see me sometimes at night. I don't think he ever knew I was pregnant.” She reached up and grasped Beth's hand, searching her face desperately. “Please, say you'll love him...”
     Beth wanted to tear away, throw the baby down, watch his mother die in agony. She wanted to walk to the edge of the bridge—finish what she had started. The betrayal, the anguish, the pain was ripping away at her...
     The girl was dying. Her eyes were dulling. Her breathing came in ragged breaths. “Please?” she asked.
     Beth nodded. “I will.” She couldn't believe she was saying this. How could she ever love this boy, an emblem of the greatest rejection in her life? How could she watch him grow up into a man—a man that looked like her Cameron? A man that reminded her every day what she had lost?
     She looked into the wailing child's face, into his beautiful eyes. And suddenly, it didn't matter. She knew she'd love him, because he needed her. Someone needed her...
      His mother gasped out her last breath, then closed her eyes. Beth treasured the look of peace that she wore on her face because she knew her son had a mother to love him.

()()()()()()()()()()

Two weeks later...
    
     Beth looked into the crib and smiled down on his lovely face. His pudgy legs were spread out, and his little fist was shoved against his flushed cheeks. He looked like a perfect angle.
     “Good night, baby. Mommy loves you.” She leaned down and kissed him, then went back to her own bedroom. She pulled the covers back and slipped inside of the large, lonely bed. For the first time in days she thought of Cameron. The pain was still fresh in her heart, but she'd been so busy with her son that she hadn't had time to dwell on her hurt. She sent up a silent prayer, thanking God that Amy had come into her life. It sickened her to think that she'd been just one step away from death...
     The room was so quiet. The bed was so lonely and big and empty.

     Beth stood up and went down the hall. She stopped in front of the guest room, and just stood there, staring at the door. Did she dare ask for forgiveness? She didn't deserve another chance and she knew it. But wasn't it tenderness that she'd seen in his eyes that morning? And wasn't the smile he gave her during supper something special...somehow...maybe?

     She pushed open the door, and he looked up at her. An open bible lay across his lap, but he closed it and sat it on the stand. She felt her throat constrict. His blonde-haired chest was tan and muscled, and even though his hair was disheveled, his eyes were tender, expectant.

     “Ti, I'm so sorry,” it was the only thing she could say under his soft eyes. He was making her heart thunder. Just like Cameron used to do, she thought.

      “Come here, Beth.” He patted the bed beside him, and she immediately slipped by him under the covers.
     He pulled her close against him and kissed the top of her head, not saying a word.

     Nothing had ever felt so right—his arms felt like comfort and safety and home. She felt cherished and loved like she'd never felt before...not even with Cameron. The realization caused her to look up at him. She got a twinkle in her eyes as she whispered, “I love you, Ti.”

     He stroked his knuckles down her cheeks. “Not half as much as I love you.”