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Anna's Secret

By Blossom Turner

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Anna gazed down at her sleeping husband—the man she had once called lover, friend, soul mate. Somewhere along the way they had become no more than nurse and patient. Steven’s sickness and remission had beaten a well-worn path to her door. Despite prayers for healing, this final diagnosis crushed all hope.
A single tear snaked its way down Anna’s cheek. She brushed it off with a violent sweep of her hand, so tired of the pain.
Wake up, Steven. A deep desire to set things right before time ran out sent a shudder up her spine.
“Steven.” She nudged him gently.
His eyes flickered open. He stared up at her with a drug-induced blankness.
“I need to talk to you.”
He turned his head away and closed his eyes.
Anna understood. His response was nothing new. She straightened his blanket and gently touched his upper forehead where dark thick hair used to spring beneath her fingertips. The smoothness brought back his words after he realized his hair would only grow back in scraggily patches.
“I got the nurse to shave it off.”
“It looks good, Steven.”
“Yeah, as good as a bowling ball after it hits the gutter. Worthless.” “Come on, Steven, we need to remain—”
“Don’t give me your ‘let’s stay positive’ speech. You’re not the one lying in this bed completely useless. I wish you’d go, Anna.” “Steven—”
“No seriously. Find someone worthy. I’m nothing but a shell of the man you married, and this blasted disease doesn’t let me live or die. I just hang here in limbo.”
“Code yellow to unit ten. Code yellow.”
Anna was grateful the intercom interrupted her thought patterns and brought her back to the present. She released one white-knuckled hand from her clutch on his blanket and smoothed out the twisted knot. She shook her head as if to dislodge that painful conversation from her mind.
Some memories are better left buried.
Dr. Matthew Carmichael had been notified by hospital staff that his morning run should include a look into Steven’s room. They felt he was failing fast. One look at Steven confirmed their assessment.
He motioned the nurse over.
“This family needs our full attention until—”
She nodded. “I just started my shift and I’ll stay nearby.
“Steven,” he bent closer. “We’re going to keep you as comfortable as possible.”
Steven’s eyes flickered open as Matt squeezed his hand and smoothed his
brow.
Matt straightened and motioned Anna over to the far corner of the
room. Every year he practiced medicine he assumed it would get easier, but at thirty-five he was granted no more wisdom, or strength, than the year previously.
He spoke the words that were always difficult to say to family members but especially hard to say to Anna, who had become a dear friend. “It won’t be long now.”
Anna collapsed against him. He steadied her and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. When she looked up at him, her dark eyes brimmed with tears and a lump formed in his throat. He had to get away. The pit of his stomach tightened. He hurt because she hurt.
“You should phone your family.”
“Yes. I will.”
He held her a moment longer before signaling the nurse with a tilt of his head. She gently guided Anna to the nearest chair.

••••••• ••••••
Anna had no idea what that simple condolence cost him as he battled a squall of emotion he knew he had no right to feel. He was free, but she certainly wasn’t and wouldn’t be for a long time to come. He was no fool. Grief needed time.
“Would you like me to phone your sister?”
Her large, soulful eyes shot upward. Anna’s voice broke. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Please ask her to call the boys and the rest of the family.”
“No problem, Anna. I’ll handle it.”
Matt’s offer did not fall into his regular doctor/patient responsibilities, but Steven’s illness had been a long, rocky road, and Matt had become a fixture in their family. Through it all, Anna had rarely complained. She had a beauty inside and out that intrigued him. The way she loved her husband unconditionally, despite his difficult tirades, showed a quiet strength that drew him.
He turned to leave.
“Matthew ...”
His heart kicked against the walls of his chest. Was she aware she’d used his first name? Hearing his name touched something deep within him. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned back toward her.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. You’re a good friend.”
Unable to speak, he nodded.
She smiled, and he read only innocence in her expression. Clearly, she had no idea the emotions she evoked in him.
Is it only friendship you desire?
A dart of guilt pierced him. He left the room before giving her the chance to read any emotion on his face.

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