The Widower's Wife by Bice Prudence

door. “Let’s go see if we have time to bake some cookies before Jenny gets home. Do you think she would like that?”
    Lisa nodded her head and grinned from ear to ear. “I think me and Brenn would like it too.”

Eight
     
    Dalton wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He had been working nonstop all morning, trying to dispel the thoughts of that woman from his mind.
    For the first time in fifteen months, his waking thought hadn’t been of Laurellyn and the deep pain of her loss. He had even forgotten to put her cameo in his pants pocket. Jillian had only been here three weeks now, and she was already invading the spaces in his mind where Laurellyn resided.
    In frustration, Dalton stripped off his shirt and stuffed it partly in his back pocket. He leaned up against the fence post and ran his fingers through his hair. She was getting to him, threatening his sense of control. He never thought he would have these kinds of feelings for another woman again. Could Laurellyn have been right? Was he able to love again? He thought back to the second part of the promise he had made her.
    “Dalton, listen.” Laurellyn’s breath was labored and her body weak. He felt her hand trembling as she placed it on his arm. He had turned from her when she had made the request. Turning back around, he knelt beside the bed and took her hand in both of his. He never could refuse her anything, especially not now. His heart wrenched; he couldn’t imagine a life with anyone but her. “Please, Dalton,” she pleaded. “I know you’ll always love me, but you’ll need someone when I am gone.” She took a second to catch her breath. “You have so much love left to give, so much time. You’ll find another woman to make you happy.” Her words brought a fresh round of tears to Dalton’s eyes. He couldn’t hide them—he wouldn’t—they belonged to her.
     
    “I don’t want anyone but you, Laurellyn. I never have and you know that. We’re forever, remember?”
    Laurellyn reached her hand up and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Dalton, listen to me.” She attempted a weak smile. “Now’s not the time to be stubborn.” His heart ached as he looked at her. Her skin was taut and pale, and the light was leaving her eyes. Life had slowly been drained from her in order to bring a new life into the world.
    Laurellyn had labored for thirty-six hours before Brennan Michael McCullough was finally born. He had been two weeks overdue and Laurellyn was very small, which had made the birthing more difficult. She was weakened from the labor after which Aunt Betty couldn’t stop the bleeding. Aunt Betty had helped to bring many babies into the world, and she was skilled at it, but when God chose to call one of his children home, try as she might, there was nothing she could do—not even to save the niece she cherished as a daughter. She had left the two of them alone when she felt the end was near.
    Dalton did not want to accept that the love of his life was leaving him. He couldn’t. The world would not be the same without the melody of her voice, her loving touch, the very fragrance of her. It would be silent and empty for him.
    “Dalton.” Laurellyn’s voice was so weak, it was barely a whisper. “Promise me, Dalton. The children—they need a mother.” Her breathing was no longer labored, and he could hardly see her chest rise at all with each breath. “Dalton, find her . . . find her for them.” Her voice was so pleading. “Find her for you . . . promise me.”
    “I will, Laurellyn. Only for you, I will.” He could not deny her the promise, even though he doubted he could ever keep it. “I love you.”
    With the last of her strength, and though her lips barely moved, he heard the words he would never hear again on the earth. “I’ll love you forever, Dalton McCullough.”
    Then she was gone and he felt his heart being torn from his chest.
    “Forever,” he had repeated as he held her in his arms for