and lilies.
Marlene intercepted me three doors away from his room.
“He’s resting,” she said. “He doesn’t need a scene.”
I could have pushed past her.
I was his wife.
But her hand was shaking, nurses were glancing over, and I thought of Russell hearing raised voices through the wall.
I sat in the hallway for three hours.
When she left for coffee, I slipped into his room.
Russell looked paler than the sheets.
He squeezed my hand.
“Don’t fight them,” he whispered. “Just trust me.”
I told him I
