“Remember that?”
Ellie smiled.
“You lied terribly.”
“I said the door annoyed me.”
“It never annoyed you.”
“No.”
“You thought I didn’t fit.”
His face tightened.
“I thought the cabin didn’t fit you.”
The difference still mattered.
Ellie reached for his hand.
“I spent so many years believing I was the thing that needed changing.”
Jasper squeezed gently.
“You changed me.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“Still true.”
She smiled.
Jasper looked at her.
“Remember when you tried to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Worst morning of my life.”
“You were very dramatic.”
“I had almost died.”
“You were fully recovered.”
“Emotionally wounded.”
“Hopeless.”
He laughed.
Then coughed.
Ellie’s nurse instincts awakened instantly.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“Chest pain?”
“No.”
“Dizzy?”
“No.”
“Shortness of breath?”
“Only when you look at me.”
Ellie rolled her eyes.
“Seventy-nine years old and still ridiculous.”
“Eighty.”
“You are not eighty until next Thursday.”
Jasper smiled.
Then became quiet.
“Don’t leave me.”
The words stopped time.
Ellie looked at him.
He smiled faintly.
“Thought I should say it while I still remember.”
Her eyes filled.
“No.”
“No?”
“You don’t get to use that line twice.”
“I used it when I was dying.”
“You weren’t dying.”
“Felt like it.”
“You had a fever.”
“Still meant it.”
Ellie moved closer.
Jasper touched her face.
Wrinkled hand now.
Scarred.
Gentler than ever.
“I never needed you because I was afraid to be alone.”
“I know.”
“I needed you because after meeting you, being alone stopped feeling like the same thing.”
Ellie closed her eyes.
Tears slipped down.
Jasper wiped one away.
“You saved my life.”
“You saved your own life.”
“Still arguing.”
“Always.”
He smiled.
“What was the real thing?”
Ellie opened her eyes.
“What?”
“The thing you gave me.”
She thought.
Then answered.
“A reason to wash your bandages properly.”
Jasper laughed.
“No.”
Ellie smiled.
“Then tell me.”
He looked toward the doorway.
The old widened doorway.
Then back to her.
“You made the world bigger.”
Ellie’s throat tightened.
Jasper continued.
“I had mountains.”
“Cabin.”
“Money.”
“Samuel.”
“Unfortunately.”
Ellie laughed.
“But none of it was big.”
His eyes softened.
“Then you came through a storm carrying that ridiculous medical bag.”
“It was not ridiculous.”
“Forty pounds.”
“Thirty-two.”
“Felt like forty.”
“You never carried it.”
“Exactly.”
Ellie laughed.
Jasper held her hand.
“And suddenly I wanted mornings.”
He looked around their home.
“Visitors.”
“Noise.”
“Arguments.”
“Town.”
“You hated town.”
“I still hate town.”
She smiled.
“But I love what you built there.”
Ellie rested her head against his shoulder.