To Love by Dori Lavelle Page A

inside for you."
    Carmen bit the corner of her lip as her fingertips traced the edges of the box, and then she ran the palm of her hand over its surface. Her touch wandered to the middle of the box and traced the engraving: D.L. , for Doris Lay, her favorite boutique. She hadn't been there since before the accident; she didn't feel beautiful inside anymore, and wearing luxury clothes wouldn't change that.
    Shaun lowered himself next to her and laid a hand on her back, moving his palm in circular motions. For a moment he feared she might refuse to open the box—reject his gift and ask him to return it. The receipt was in his pocket, just in case. But he had to try to help her find another slice of happiness. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Nothing will ever change that." Shaun kissed her again.
    "I find that hard to believe." A smile touched Carmen's lips as she lifted the lid, her eyes closed. "But I won't argue with you." She sighed as she placed a hand on top of the silky folds of the dress. She lifted it out and placed the box next to her on the bed. Laying the dress on her lap, she smoothed out the folds. Her brow wrinkled when her fingers brushed the sequin-encrusted bust. Her eyes opened and she felt around the whole dress. "Is this... No." Her lips trembled. "How?"
    "It was your favorite dress." Shaun had had the gown made for her. It was the dress she wore the day he asked her to marry him, the dress she had lost when their suitcases went missing on a trip to Hawaii. Doris Lay had since stopped producing it. Shaun had to jump through a lot of hoops, and he’d spent a lot of money to get them to make one last gown of that design. "I thought you might want something special to wear tonight.”
    A tear slid down her cheek and plopped onto the fragile material, turning the affected part a darker shade of brown. "This is... This is..."
    Shaun gathered her into his arms and buried his head in her neck, cradling the back of her head with his hand. "I know what you want to say. I love you, Carmen Brannon. I'll do anything for you." The dress was a simple gesture, but Carmen was the type to hold on to memories. She cherished each one of them. In fact, in her old apartment, she'd had a room she called “The Room of Memories,” which was filled with souvenirs from her life—clothes, cards, postcards, jewelry. Shaun used to wonder if she was scared of forgetting her life, or losing it.
    In a way, both of those things had happened after the accident. She still had the memories she'd made as a child and young adult, the memories she'd cherished, but the ones she made following the loss of her eyesight and the deadly diagnosis were ones she refused to keep. Nevertheless, Shaun had designated a room in their home just for her memories, with shelves, glass boxes, bottles, and containers to accommodate all the memories she had already accumulated.
    Last month she had entered the room and had a meltdown, which resulted in her destroying most of her things—breaking the breakable ones, and tearing, cutting, and snipping the rest. The next morning, Shaun started restoring what he could, but some were beyond repair.
    On many occasions, he wondered if all that was left of Carmen were pieces, and if the real her was lost forever, too. Despite the signs, he'd refused to accept it. He was determined to help restore what was left of her old self. No matter how long they still had together.
    "It's the best present ever. Thank you." Her shoulders shook as he held her.
    Shaun let her weep until all she could do was hiccup. Then he broke the embrace. "Want to try it on?" he asked.
    Carmen smiled, and for a moment Shaun forgot that she was blind. Every smile opened a window to her old self, the happy and carefree woman he had once known.
    "Does it look exactly the same? The color?" She wiped the tears from her cheeks, looking expectantly up at him with unseeing eyes.
    "Every bit of it." His voice caught. "I want to see you in