A selection from
by William Martin
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steak with mashed potatoes and cream gravy. (It
may not be entirely risk-free, but patriotism
requires sacrifice.) Back at the house, we fell
naturally to talking about Jeff's career. Patricia and I
were truly interested and the conversation continued
longer than we had planned. We made it to
the bedroom around midnight. Alone at last, we
kissed, then lay back hesitantly. Finally, we
laughed ruefully and admitted to each other that
we were too tired to fulfill our promise. So it goes.
Sunday morning passed quickly and soon it
was time to leave. Samantha hasn't been around
us much, so it usually takes her some time to get
past the awkwardness of fitting us into her
emotional schema. I don't know what she knew about
what I was facing, but when I stooped down to
tell her good-bye and that I loved her, she hugged
me warmly and said, "I love you, too. Granddad,"
in a tone that made me believe it. Jeff also gave
me a big hug and said he would be in touch with
Mom and Rex the next day. Patricia said she
would see me in a few hours, and they drove off
down the hill.
In the thirty-one days that had passed since Dr.
Carlton had told me I had cancer, I had shed some
tears, but I had never come close to losing control.
I had not struggled with my composure, nor had I
felt any strong need to keep up a good front.
That's just the way it was. Now, to my utter surprise,
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