"I want to take you to the doctor, Rosie," Lilly said. Rose's cough was much worse and she was running a fever. "I think you should go back to Dr. Higgins."

"No," Rose said. She thought of Dr. Higgins as brutal. She didn't know why she thought that, but she did. He was cold. She blamed him. Even though she knew it wasn't true, she deep inside blamed him for everything. All she had to do was look in the mirror. She couldn't trust him. He could have told her what he was going to do to her. Instead, he had told her not to cry. "You can call Dr. Worth, but I don't want to see Dr. Higgins."

Rose fell back asleep and when she woke Dr. Worth was standing above her, "Rosie," he whispered, shaking her a little. "How are you dear?"

She woke and looked up at him, "I'm all right." She said.

He took her temperature and listened to her lungs. He looked at Lilly, "I think she may have pneumonia." Then, he looked down at Rose, "Rosie," he smiled at her kindly. It made her want to cry because in this doctor --just like her family and friends-- she could see the sum of her. Instantaneously, she saw the little girl, the teenager, the young woman, and her present self.

Dr. Worth let out a sigh. "I think you should see Dr. Higgins."

Rose shook her head.

"Can I feel under your arm, Rose?"

She nodded.

He gently pulled the blanket down on the left side. When he touched her skin he said to Lilly, "she's burning hot."

He felt around her skin and for a moment, she remembered her mother, the sheet falling from her breast exposing her. Dr. Worth was sure to keep the covers over Rose, but Rose realized that if she were much sicker, she wouldn't know the difference.

"I think she needs to go to the hospital." Dr. Worth said. But, Rose didn't want to.

"I don't want to go anywhere," Rose said.

"Well, either you have to see Dr. Higgins or go to the hospital," Dr. Worth said seriously. "Rose this is more than I know about."

Lilly looked down at Rose and rubbed her forehead. "Darling, I am going to call the doctor."

***

In the dream, Rose is in the garden. The light is beautiful. There is dappled green light under the arbor. The vines wrap around the aged wooden structure. The dirt below is packed down. There are nasturtiums growing around the perimeter where the sun hits the ground. The nasturtiums are abundant and they trail over ground in enthusiastic orange and green mounds all around the arbor. A path has been set with cobble stone from under the arbor, it leads to a small fenced area full of wild flowers. Rose can see the cosmos with their hairy green stalks reaching up in bunches of white and lavender. She sees daisies here and there with brown-eyed Susan's. Along the back, sunflowers are protecting the little garden. Their large heads turned towards the sky. Tall hollyhocks in bright red and deep pink rise just below the sunflowers. Fox glove are scattered amongst the wildflowers. There are poppies in all different colors. It is a large area and it is surrounded by a fence. There is rosemary, sage and lavender growing around the fence.

One one side of the yard is a small garden. There are lilies that lead to a secluded area. A maple tree, still a sapling, is to one side with a wooden bench, hostas and oak leaf hydrangeas. There is a small flagstone patio with pots of geraniums. They are red and vibrant. The light comes through in shaded patterns. It is cool and lovely in this little part of the garden. And, there is lattice and a fence behind it. There is a deep red climbing rose, full of blooms and it covers the wall. When you are sitting on the bench, it is cool and fragrant. It is a place to rest and read or drink tea. There is a grassy patch beneath the roses, enough room to hide away. And, when you are down low, you can't be seen from anywhere else in the garden.

"That is your garden, Rose," she can hear Ed say. "That way I will always be with you."

She opened her eyes and Ed was sitting beside her.

"I dreamt that you worked on the garden. That you planted seeds, and put in a path. You put in little secluded gardens. A fenced wildflower garden. And an outdoor, shady room."

He kissed her hand. "I did, Rose."

"Did you tell me all about it?"

He nodded. "Yes, I just told you all about it, don't you remember?"

"Oh," she said softly. I thought I was dreaming. She felt woozy. "It sounds so lovely,"

"Thank you," he said.

"Did I ever tell you about Henry?" She asked.

"I don't know," he said to her.

"Did I tell you how I fell in love with Henry?"

Ed smiled, "I don't think so."

Rose closed her eyes. Her voice was hoarse and she was wheezing. She started to cry. Ed wiped her eyes. "what did you want to tell me, love? About Henry?"

"After he was born," she smiled, "I didn't know what to do. He wouldn't stop crying. And, I walked around the house with him and Nick walked around the house. And then we would put him down, and he would cry."

"That's how babies are," Ed said softly and rubbed her forehead.

"Then," she said, "I sat down on the sofa with him in my arms. It was the middle of the night. The house was silent and I was so tired. He was so tiny. I didn't mean to, but I fell asleep with him in my arms. When I woke, I looked down. His little eyes were open. They were staring intently at me. Studying me. Like a little animal. His eyes were so clear. He didn't break his stare. He spoke to my heart. Then we knew each other completely."

Rose closed her eyes again and she could feel Ed's hand on her face, tracing her features. She opened her eyes again. For a moment, she seemed more awake. Stronger "I wanted to ask you," she said.

"What is it?"

"Do you think I have done anything worth while?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't think of anything important that I have done. It makes me sad."

He turned his head to one side. He looked sad. "Why would you say that, Rose?" he asked tenderly.

"What have I done with my life?"

"Your whole life has been so large. And, to me," he said softly, "you are a beautiful mystery. The more I know you, the more I am in awe of you."

She smiled at him. Then, she teased, "are we still horrible, rotten people?"

He kept a straight face, "Yes, Rose. Despite what I just said, I am afraid we that are." He bent down and kissed her forehead. "Go back to sleep," he whispered, "rest up."

***

The windows are open in Nick's bedroom and a warm, summer breeze passes through the room. The air is dry and through the window the fragrant smell of the small pink tea roses fill the air. It is quiet, and everyone is somber even though outside, firecrackers and children's voices from the house next door can be heard.

Rose is in bed. Her lungs are so full of fluid that she can hardly breathe. It scares her not to be able to find any air. Each inhalation and exhalation sounds like a raspy moan. It creates a predictable rhythm. She doesn't want to die this way. She is feverish and the vivid dreams give her reprieve from the worry. When she isn't dreaming or sleeping, she can hear everything but it is as if all of her muscles have stopped working correctly. She tells herself to speak and sometimes words come out. Usually, it is an echo in her mind. She tries to hang on to what she was thinking or wanting to say, but she realizes that the time for words is gone. Somehow, she has accepted this fact. She has accepted everything except this feeling that she is drowning. She wishes she could just fall asleep, find a delicious woozy feeling and then fall into it deeper and deeper until it's all done.

She could hear them talking.

"She's not responding," Ed said, "What did the doctor say?" He asked Lilly. Now they are partners in their love for Rose. Lilly couldn't completely accept him, Rose knew this, but she knows that Lilly loved him too. This makes her happy because she wanted someone else to have known that this love had existed. To believe in it.

Lilly wiped a handkerchief across her nose and dabs her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders and reached for an afghan. Tears fell down her cheeks. She refolded the knitted blanket and layed it over the footboard. "Oh Ed you know." She let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the chair. She stood back up again and lifted the afghan and held it to her chest like a school book.

"What did he say we should do?"

"Not in here," Lilly said and Rose could hear them walk out of the room. She could hear the door close and them whispering outside of the door. She was in and out of sleep, but she remembered hearing the doctor talking to Daniel earlier. Dr. Higgins outside of the bedroom door. "I don't think there is much to do. It has spread to her left side, but this lung condition that's part of it—it has also spread all over her body."

Then she heard the doctor say, "It's up to you, we can try to give her some medicine for the pneumonia. But, she isn't going to get better. She's in a lot of pain."

She had never before heard Daniel's voice falter. Although, it must have when Nick died. It must have in the silence of his room with Lilly. But, Daniel was always strong and Rose had never heard him cry. But, when Dr. Higgins had said "spread all over," she had heard Daniel gasp, "My God," he had said so loudly, "she's just a young girl."

Rose smiled and remembered Daniel with Nick back when they had been teenagers. "Listen here son, I want you to be nice to this girl."

"He is nice, really, Mr. Miller," Rose would always say.

"Rosie, you are something. I want this boy to really know that. I love you like a daughter."

In the dream, the garden is lush and wild. It is a pretty day and the sky is a royal blue with rich enormous clouds. The light in the garden is dappled and the flowers are abundant. The jasmine climbs vigorously against the wooden side fence. Its star shaped pale white flowers are fragrant. The Lilies are in enormous mounds of green, pink and orange. The mounds surround the permitter of the rose bushes. Henry is playing under the grape arbor whose leaves completely block out the summer sky. Their hungry tangled mass creates a little room that is cool and dark, perfect for a little boy.

Rose is standing by the trumpet vine. She is selecting orange blossoms larger than her hand. She is healthy and both of her arms are above her reaching higher and higher towards the orange trumpets. The light on her face is warm. She turns and stops for a moment, "Henry!" she calls. But he can't hear her. She realizes that she has no voice. "Henry, darling!" But, he stays silent. She tries to see what he is doing, what he is playing, she can't see the features on his face.

The light changes and a cool breeze passes. Now, the garden is watching but she is not there. The vines continue to grow and the yard is becoming a tangled mass of green. There is Ed. He is cutting back the vines, but they are growing furiously. In the light something sparkles near the stone bench under the arbor. The light catches the object and Rose watches as Ed rushes over pulling madly at the vines. When he gets to the earth it is moist and fragrant. He digs and then he locates the object. Rose can see that it is her jade bracelet. There is a quiet, beautiful jingle as he picks it up. He holds it to his heart and closes his eyes. "Ed," she whispers, "can I keep it?"

Rose felt dizzy and so cold. For a moment she thought she was in Ed's car. It was so cold and she was staring at the metal dashboard, the numbers like a clock around the odometer.

"Let's go inside Ed," she heard herself saying.

There was his voice, suspended above her. "I'm here Rose," he whispered. Its Ed's voice.

"Can't we go inside?" she asked him, "It's cold."

"Maybe the afghan," he said. Rose felt the blanket covering her body. Still it was just a weight over her body, no warmth.

In the dream she is on the beach with her mother. She is a little girl, maybe six years old. She loves her mother tremendously. She looks at her mother's dress. The bottom of the dress is wet from the surf. Her mother holds it up as the waves crash against her feet. Rose is laughing and chasing her mother. She runs to her and buries her face in the dress. He mother's hands are on her cheeks. She bends down. Rose can see her mother's mouth moving, she is laughing, but Rose doesn't know what she is saying. Her mother is alive –not sickly at all—She's well. And, Rose remembers so vividly "Isn't it funny how blue the fabric is?" she asks. "Isn't it funny, that I remember your smile? Exactly like this..." Her mother kneels down and now the skirt is mostly wet.

A voice says "Rosie," and it is not her mother. But, Rose is so mesmerized by the light of her mother that she ignores the voice. Her pretty mother is holding Rose's face in her hands. Her hands are soft, Rose thinks. Her mother's eyes are sparkling bright green and they look at Rose as if she is precious. "My little darling," her mother says. The sound of the ocean is loud, Rose can hardly make out her mother's words. Rose can taste the salt water and the sound of the waves rushing, makes her heart beat with excitement. She is so happy to remember this moment so vividly. She feels something on her lips, is her mother kissing her? No, its cool and wet. She tries to open her eyes. She can see a hand coming towards her face, then it is cool again on her lips.

It was late, dark outside now. The window was open only a crack and the cool night air smelled like childhood. Rose remembered playing outside, then taking walks and strolls with Nick. "Nick do remember finding it?" she asked. Rose could see the afternoon with Nick in the attic. She was holding a diary. Now her brain was fixed on trying to recall the name on the cover. Inside of the leather cover, she could see the picture. A young man with a high white collar. His hair cut short. A mustache. Rose was smiling. "Dastardly Harold," she said out loud. Nick was laughing with her. That was the main character of a book they were going to write. Dastardly Harold, the fiend would prey on unsuspecting train passengers: the lady with the orange hat, the man with the cane, and the rich Mr. and Mrs. Bently.

"A comedy" Rose said.

"Rose?" Ed's voice is clear and Rose opens her eyes. For a moment she can see here and now.

"Rose," Ed whispers, "everyone has gone to bed."

Her eyes are focused on him. They seem absolutely alert, as if there has been some change in the prognosis. She seemed like herself.

"Have they?" she asked. "why have they?"

'It is late, Rose," Ed answered. Then, he said urgently, "Rose I want you to promise something." He was whispering it. It is a secret, Rose thinks.

"What is it my Darling?" she says. She wants to raise her hand and touch his face, but she is sleepy. She closes her eyes again. She tries to take a breath and it is raspy and shallow. It sounds like a trowel being dragged over gravel.

"Please don't go." He whispered urgently. He sounds almost angry. "Tell me you won't go. Promise me you'll stay with me. I don't want you to leave me." He stares intently at her. Waiting for the promise, "please, Rose," He whispered.

But Rose is almost asleep again. She can faintly hear Ed taking deep breaths, trying to compose himself.

"Darling," she said, she is going to tell him that you can't stop it now. That it has started. Once it starts, you can't come back. But,then she remembered the dream about the bracelet. She wanted to tell him how much she loved the bracelet. How terrible it is to love a thing as much as that. But, she loved it viscerally. She wanted to tell him how many times she replayed in her mind the night he gave it to her.

"No," she said, "let me tell you."

"What Rose?" He asked. He leaned close to her and kissed her cheek. He couldn't help but kiss it over and again. He held his face to hers, "don't leave me, Rose," he whispered again. "I don't want you to."

She opened her eyes. Ed face is close to hers. She looked into his eyes deeply, "Ed," she whispered, "thank you for the bracelet."

He started to laugh, "you're welcome Rose."

"Where did you find it?" she asked. When she did she raised her eyebrows a little and pursed her lips, she waited for him to answer.

He smiled at her and rubs his hand over her forehead, down through her hair. "At a jewelry store, love. Downtown."

"Did you choose it just for me?"

He nodded and his eyes filled with tears again. "Yes, I did," he manages to say.

"Oh," she said, "I wanted to tell you."

"What Rose?" he asks.

"I wanted to tell you I love the jade bracelet so much."

But, then Rose is dreaming that Nick is digging in the basement. He will make her a cold cellar for all of the canned goods. But she hates canning. She really hates it. The steam in her face all night while he and Henry sleeps. She stays up all night and cans the pears and apples before they go bad, over the boiling pot in the basement. He is digging and Henry is asleep. She can't help herself. His arms look so strong. She had asked him to kiss her, to please kiss her that very moment. Forget the cellar for now.

"Rosie, you've got to let me do this," he says to her. He is annoyed with her. So goes upstairs and sits at the kitchen table until he finishes. When he emerges triumphantly, he bends down to kiss her. She takes a deep breath and turns her face away. She doesn't know why she is mad at him. But, just now, it occurred to her. "I didn't want a cold cellar." She says aloud.

Ed leaned closer and whispers, "what Rose?"

"I don't like canning." She said. Then, she smells his soapy smell. The cool air passes her and she smiles. "Its you, Ed." she says and opens her eyes for a moment, "I love you,"

"I love you too," he says and kisses her hand.

Rose took another deep raspy breath in. A moment passed, then there was a curiosity. And with each second it became more tangible. Rose did not exhale. There was no squeaky, grumbly whistling of the air passing out of her lungs. There was just an emptiness in the space where the rhythm of her breathing had just occupied.