He couldn't believe that she had died. She was too young to die. He remembered when they had first met. It had been when he'd been assigned to the division. *They* had assigned a partner to him and he'd been pissed, because he knew that they wanted to keep an eye on him. They wanted to make sure he didn't do any thing or find anything they didn't approve of. He remembered the cases they had gone on, the things they had seen, the treacheries they had uncovered. They had gone straight through hell and out the other side. She had been there when they had closed the Files down, when he needed a shoulder to cry on. She had been there when no one else would believe him, when the entire world had been against him. Then they had closed down the Files for the final time and he thought he'd never see her again. He remembered that night so clearly. They had gone out to a restaurant for dinner and he'd surprised her by insisting that they dress up. Not just *work* dress up, but *formal* dress up. Tux and tie. He remembered the shock on her face at seeing him in the tux. The shock had changed to desire and just as quickly as it had appeared, it had disappeared. But he'd seen it, and it gave him hope.
He wasn't sure when he'd realised that he loved her. No, he was sure *when*, he'd realised it after she'd disappeared and he'd barely managed to convince himself that there was a possibility that there might be life without her. That he might lose her like he had lost Samantha. He just wasn't sure when he had *started* to love her. Maybe it was the first day she'd walked into the office ... or during their first case together and she'd been terrified that she'd been infected ... or maybe ... it could have been anytime during those first months, but it didn't matter now. Nothing did.
That night at the restaurant, they had talked like friends, close friends, but he could feel the tension in the air. He decided to take the plunge. He couldn't bear losing her, and he proposed to her. To his shock she had said yes ... it had been the start of a beautiful five year marriage ... and now she was dead. She'd been the mother of a beautiful four year old girl. She had a job she loved as Chief of Pathology at the local hospital. She had her life ahead of her. It just wasn't fair. Other women lived till their seventies and eighties, so why shouldn't she?
He hadn't seen it coming, it was all so sudden. He'd left home at eight as usual, and taken Samantha to day nursery. Dana had complained of stomach aches for the last two days and she had gotten a doctor's appointment. Maybe he should have gone with her. He had asked, but she had said she was okay on her own, and that he couldn't afford miss his classes at the university where he taught. She had been right and he knew from experience that there was no arguing with her. He had smiled, kissed her gently and told her that she had to call him as soon as she left the doctor's office. He would take her out to lunch and they could discuss the doctor's decision. She had smiled and told him that was why she loved him. Because he cared. He'd gone to work and was waiting for her phone call. The phone rang, but it wasn't her. It was the police. She was dead. She had been hit by a drunk after leaving the doctor's office. She had died instantly.
The days after her death passed in a blur. He cried and Samantha cried. She wanted her mother and he wanted his wife. Their assorted relatives had flown in for the funeral. Her sister in law had taken Samantha. He just kept crying. Then the autopsy report came in. She had been pregnant. That was why she had been getting stomach aches. Morning sickness. He felt his world crumble around him. They had been trying so hard for another child. He wanted to die too, the pain was so bad. Maybe he should, and take Sam too. They both felt Dana's death keenly, and maybe this was the best for them. But of course, that was grief speaking. He couldn't deny Sam the chance to live like her unborn brother or sister. He couldn't take the easy way out. Dana would hate it.
He got up from the bed where he had been sitting braiding Sam's long red hair in two fat braids. She turned around and hugged him fiercely.
"What's wrong?" he asked her, surprised.
"You're sad and my teacher said when people are sad you hug then to make them feel better. I want you to feel better." Sam smiled her sweet smile, so much like her mothers', slipped off the bed and ran into her room to play.
He started to cry.
© Chaynne Taylor/Shateri Jordan, 1997-2004
Comments? sexychaynne@aemail4u.com
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