Clara leaned forward.
She pressed her forehead against his.
"Samuel."
He closed his eyes.
"I was such a lonely man before you came."
She began crying.
He continued.
"I didn't know a house could sound so beautiful."
She smiled through tears.
"What do you mean?"
He opened his eyes.
"Your laughter."
Her breath caught.
"The sound of you singing while you cooked."
He looked toward the doorway.
"The children running through the kitchen."
Then back at her.
"And you telling me when I've put something together crooked."
Clara laughed softly through her tears.
Samuel smiled.
"I loved every bit of it."
She kissed his forehead.
"I love you."
"I know."
He squeezed her hand.
"And I love you."
Outside, a bird began singing in the apple tree.
Samuel turned his head slightly.
Then whispered, "Will you do something for me?"
"Anything."
"Don't stop living when I'm gone."
Clara closed her eyes.
He continued gently.
"Keep the table full."
She nodded through tears.
"Keep the roses."
"Yes."
"Let the children come."
"Always."
He looked at her.
"And laugh."
Her voice trembled.
"I'll try."
Samuel smiled.
"Promise?"
She took his hand between both of hers.
"I promise."
He rested against the pillow.
His breathing grew quieter.
Clara stroked his hair.
For a long time, she spoke softly about ordinary things.
The orchard.
The garden.
The new calves in the lower pasture.
How Annie planned to make blackberry preserves.
How the roses were already showing buds.
Samuel listened.
Sometimes he smiled.
Sometimes his eyes closed.
Near evening, he looked at Clara one final time.
"Sweetheart."
She leaned close.
"Yes?"
His lips curved faintly.
"Still glad you married me?"
Clara pressed her forehead against his.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"More than anything in this world."
Samuel smiled.
Then whispered, "Good."
His hand relaxed inside hers.
And slowly, peacefully, surrounded by the home they had built together, he died.
Clara remained beside him long after the room grew quiet.
She did not immediately call for anyone.
She sat holding his hand.
The spring breeze moved gently through the open window.
Somewhere outside, the children were laughing near the orchard.
A cow called from the lower meadow.
The world continued.
And Clara hated it for a moment.
She hated that the wind could still move.
That birds could still sing.
That the sun could still shine.
How could the world remain so ordinary when the man who had filled her life with meaning was gone?
She leaned over Samuel and kissed his forehead.
Then she whispered, "You promised me another Sunday supper."
Her voice broke.
For a moment, she almost smiled.
Because he had kept that promise hundreds of times.
Then she rested her head against his chest and cried.
Not the careful tears she shed in front of others.