I stand at the window of my bedroom, looking out across the expansive gardens that lead to the Crane mansion. May’s rain has made the grounds beautiful: the trees are lush and green and the buds of flowers are sprouting. But it’s the roses in front of the cottage that interest me most. For the first year ever they seem reluctant to bloom and their buds are barely peeking through the thorny vines. I can almost feel them missing Luis, like I do.

It has been five and a half months since he last held me in his arms. Five and a half long arduous months of taking care of the quickly fading Antonio. Turning towards the bed, I see him resting there, his eyes closed as he tries again to sleep. Every day he tells me how much he loves me and how he wishes he could give me a family and everything I desire. I never tell him that he isn’t the man I dream of these things with and it hurts me inside to continue lying to him. A small part of me feels like it is my fault he hasn’t gotten better, like he can sense that my love isn’t true or real. He is dying and no one can save him anymore: not even me.

We still try. Eve comes by once a day to check Antonio and see if there are any signs of improvement, which of course there never have been in months. Pilar stops in to tell me about letters from Luis, almost none of which mention me, and to help take care of Antonio since I am always trapped inside this cottage caring for him. He’s completely unable to walk, mostly from the lethargy in his limbs, and has to be fed and changed. It’s like taking care of a child, but I refuse to lock him away in a hospital and disgrace the Lopez-Fitzgeralds that way. I am his wife; it is my job to take care of him until death do us part…

And I will.

“Sheridan?” his weakened voice calls to me and he barely lifts his arm from the bed. He groans, dropping the limb to the comforter before I can even take a step away from the window. “Darling, where are you?” his unseeing eyes search for me.

“Here,” I call softly, nearing him and gently lowering myself beside him. It pains me to see him in such a state. “What do you need, Antonio?” I ask him, brushing some unruly hair from his forehead. He’s in dire need of a haircut and his face is terribly pale, but he refuses to have someone come and cut his hair at the house, especially since he can’t even sit up on his own.

“I’m thirsty,” he sounds like a sick child and I feel my heart constrict.

Helping him lift his head slightly, I take a nearby glass of water and bring the straw to his lips. He sips slowly, cautiously because he can barely manage the energy to suck the fluid through the tube. When he pulls his head backward, I help him place it against the pillow and kiss his forehead gently. “Better?”

“Yes,” he mouths. “I’m sorry to be such a burden on you, Sheridan,” he apologizes again. “You’re being so wonderful, so patient. I don’t know how you…” he yawns.

“Save your strength, Antonio,” I caress his cheek. Sadly, I have never learned to feel anything but compassion and friendship for Antonio. I feel responsible for him and that is the reason I stay with him even now. Many times he has offered me a way out and yet I have never taken it. I can’t. He needs me now and I hate to admit it but part of me needs him.

“I love you,” he whispers softly as he starts to fall asleep again.

The moment I am sure Antonio is slumbering I rise from the bed and leave the room. In the living room there is a desk by the window. The bottom right hand drawer is locked and only I know where the key is. Removing it from its secret place, I pull open the drawer and sit on the floor beside it. Inside are all my treasures: pictures of myself and Luis, letters from him, videos of him and my compact. I have kept them here since the moment Antonio moved into the cottage to keep him from seeing all the old memories. The compact found its way into the drawer one day when I realized that I couldn’t use it without thinking of him and almost giving away that it had once come from him. The letters, however, are quite old and have been read so many times that they are tearing and I’m afraid to remove them from their envelopes. How I wish he would send me something to live on other than the one line occasionally scrawled in a letter to his mother.

“Tell Sheridan I still love her and think of her often. Tell Antonio I envy him,” I speak, still looking at the picture of Luis. These words are written in the one page letter Pilar receives each month in an envelope without a return address.

Whenever I am sad or lost, I browse through the contents of this drawer and return to a time when things were so much simpler. These were the times where all I needed was to see Luis and know that everything was going to be all right. I always knew he would save me when things were rough and he would always love me, no matter what. Come what may, Luis was my strength, like a lighthouse leading boats to the shoreline during a storm. He chased away the demons and made me feel complete.

But the photos aren’t enough to help me through this. Neither are the few videos I have of times with Luis at my side. What I need is to feel his strong, comforting arms around me helping to keep me on my feet. Sometimes when I am taking care of Antonio I feel as if I’m trying to swim to shore, pulling him behind me. Of course, with the dead weight added to my body, my muscles grow weary and I begin to slip beneath the cold, dark blue waves of the ocean. I feel my head begin to spin with the lack of oxygen and want nothing more than to cut Antonio lose. But then I can feel it. It’s like this little voice is whispering to me to be strong and I know the voice belongs to Luis. It fills me with strength.

“Just hold on, angel. I love you.”

It’s that voice that keeps me warm at night when I lay down on the couch to sleep. That’s the voice that keeps me from giving up when things get tough and telling Pilar and Antonio that I can no longer handle the strain of taking care of him. Whenever I need someone, I head that voice from the depth of my soul and I manage to swim a few more miles before I sink again. It’s Luis that keeps me strong and I wish more than ever that he would come home to me.

“Afternoon, Sheridan,” Pilar enters the house without knocking, knowing exactly where I am and what I am doing. She’s found me here before, on the floor with my memories as if they will bring back the man I sent away. Inside her eyes is the same pity that I’ve seen since my wedding day. She knows that this wasn’t easy on me and yet she is also angry that my decision has cost her not one son, but two. Antonio will never get better and Eve gives him only a few months to live. Luis swears he’ll never return and I hope it’s just a bluff.

“Hello, Pilar,” my eyes remained focused on the beautiful picture of Luis looking at the ocean waters in Bermuda. My Luis, the man I love and should be with. “He’s napping right now,” I tell her, but she knows. He’s sleeps often, eats little and talks less. He’s dying and no one can save him. Sometimes, I think no one is even trying, especially Antonio.

“I figured he would be,” she sits on the couch. “I’ve actually been worried about you, mija. You’ve been pale lately and haven’t been eating right. I thought today you could use an extra long break. Get out of the cottage a little.”

I shake my head. “It’s my responsibility to be here, Pilar,” I shrug slightly. “I have no where else to go anyway.”

She understands. I’m sure there are times she feels the same I do, that there is no place she truly fits in anymore. I can feel her eyes on me as I continue to peruse the pictures I have scattered across the floor. She joins me, lifts one and smiles. It’s Luis and little Ethan taken just days before he left. “He would have been a magnificent father.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes and my breath catches in my throat. He would have been more than a wonderful father. Luis would have been the best father on earth. He will be one day, I acknowledge to myself and Pilar looks at me knowingly. “I miss him.”

“And he does you,” she replies. I doubt the sincerity but I know Pilar would never lie to me about something this grave. “How is the baby, Sheridan?”

I place a hand against my rounded stomach and caress it gently. “Kicking a lot lately,” I reply. “It’s so hard not to tell Antonio, Pilar. I just don’t feel right telling him about a baby that isn’t his. We both would know it and I can’t be the one to end his life here and now. I won’t be and yet I want Luis to be here to see his child. I want to tell him about the baby so badly.”

She remains silent for a moment, studying the picture of Luis and his nephew. “I always thought that Luis would be the first one to give me grandchildren,” she begins, off in her own little world. “He was so determined to have a family with the right woman and I think deep down inside he knew that Beth just wasn’t that woman. But he so loved you. He wanted to spend forever with you and Luis would have too.”

A tear rolls down my cheek. “I know.”

“What happened to that, Sheridan?” she asks me.

“I don’t know.”

In this moment, I realize that I would do anything in the world to bring Luis back to Harmony. I would erase every error of my past to have him back here, married to me and raising our child together. But what can I do? Luis is gone and Antonio is dying. I’m here carrying the baby of the man I love more than myself and I can’t even tell him.

Pilar slides a piece of paper into my hand. My eyes fly to hers and she smiles sadly. “He has to know, Sheridan. Luis has to know that he is going to be a father and that Antonio is sick. He’s never given me an address to write him back and tell him what is going on, but he did send me this number. Call him.”

I look down at the number, tracing the digits with the pad of my index finger. “What if he’s married, Pilar? It’s been over five months. He could have met someone, fallen in love. I can’t…”

“He hasn’t, mija. Luis has remained faithful to you as if you had become his wife that day. He could never love someone else, Sheridan.”

“But…”

“No buts, Sheridan. Antonio isn’t going to live forever and your child deserves a father. Bring him home, mija. Only you can.”

In my hand I hold the key to changing everything. Luis can come home and take his place as my husband and the father of our baby just like it should be. Pushing myself off the floor, I lift the receiver and dial the number quickly. I misdial it the three times before Pilar stills my hand and dials it for me. The rings seem to take forever and my heart races as I count how many times I must listen to the sound before I hear it.

“Hello?”

His voice! How I’ve longed for the soothing, silk-like sound his voice has whenever he speaks. I’m shaking and can only stutter a few times before he identifies me and sharply inhales. I just stand there, listening to him breath as if he has returned from the grave. “L-Luis.”

“Sheridan.” My name sounds like music coming from his lips and I can barely comprehend how one simple word can make my heart cry out in joy. It’s almost as if someone has thrown me a life vest, saving me from drowning.

“I hope you don’t mine my calling,” I look at Pilar, who is smiling as if everything in the world has finally righted itself. “Your mother gave me the number.”

“I assumed as much,” he replies, but there isn’t any feeling in it. I can’t decide if he is being cruel and sarcastic or merely trying to keep me from bumbling like an idiot. “I asked her too.” He explains and suddenly I feel the world spinning.

“You…you did?”

“Yes,” he agrees. “I’ve missed your voice and I’ve decided it wasn’t safe for me to call you and I didn’t want you going around looking for me. I needed to be able to keep my distance, but I had to speak to you just once.”

“I’ve miss you, Luis,” I begin to cry. Finally the damn that has been inside of me bursts open and every last emotion I have been trying to hold back rushes forth. “God how I’ve needed to hear your voice,” I breathe.

“No tears, angel. You shouldn’t cry. It dulls those eyes I love so much.”

“There’s so much I have to tell you, Luis. So much I need to say,” I sniffle. “I don’t know where to begin, sweetheart. I just…there’s so much.”

“Calm down. Tell me whatever you think is most important, Sheridan. I have a while before I have to go.”

And I realize that I can’t let him go without telling him everything. This is it. All the words I say now will bring him home and make him mine again. I won’t be alone anymore.

“Antonio is dying, Luis. He can barely feed himself. He has no control of his body and Eve says it won’t be long before…I-I can’t even say it. Pilar and I have been taking care of him but we’re so tired, Luis, so drawn. We miss you so because we know you would have been our pillar of strength right now.”

“I wish I was there to help you,” he admits and I can feel the sincerity in his tone. “I’m sorry this is troubling you so. I wish it were easier for you.”

“I don’t mind it so much,” I respond. “It’s my duty.”

“Right. For better or worse, in sickness or in health,” he grumbles.

“There’s something else, Luis.”

“What?” he asks. “Are you pregnant too?”

“Yes,” I reply without thinking.

“Congratulations. Hopefully the baby has your health,” he growls. There’s not even a pause as he rushes to continue. “I need to go. Tell Mama I’ll try to come home as soon as I can. Goodbye, Sheridan.”

Before I can interrupt and correct what he is thinking, the line goes dead. I try the number again but no one responds, not even an answering machine. I drop the receiver back into the cradle and start to cry. Pilar wraps me into her embrace and I feel like I’m dying again.

She leads me to the couch and gently sits me down. I bury my face in my hands and cry into my palms. Her hand strokes my back and all I can hear is the tone in his voice when I told him I was pregnant. The anger, the bitterness and sarcasm shake me to the core and I can feel my chance to bring him home slipping away. I see all my mistakes so clearly now but it’s too late to mend the wounds that I have caused.

“What did he say, mija?” Pilar asks.

“Everything was going so well until he asked about my being pregnant, Pilar. I didn’t get to tell him,” I sob. “He’ll never know.”

“He’ll know, mija,” she promises. “One day he’ll come home and know the truth. I shall go check on Antonio, you rest, Sheridan.”

She leaves the room and I lay down on the couch, my hand resting against the swell of my stomach. I remember that Luis mentioned coming home as soon as he could and I wonder why he couldn’t come now. I want him here for me and the baby, for the long labor that looms ahead and for the life we should be living. But still, I find hope in the fact that he is coming home someday and I know that just that small shimmer of hope is enough to keep me holding on.

“I promise, baby, Daddy will come home someday and we’re going to love him again. We’ll even make him love us again.”

And that’s all I focus on today. That someday he’ll come back to me again.