Ben looked up at me, his eyes bright as he spoke his vows in a clear, steady tone that did not sound like a dying man.
“To love and to cherish,” he whispered, his grip tightening.
I looked over at Evelyn, who was staring at the floor, her face tight with a look that was not joy.
“I do,” I said, my voice barely audible over the hum of the room.
The chaplain placed his hands over our joined fingers, offering a quiet blessing that seemed to drift toward the open window.
Ben did not let go of my hand, his fingers squeezing mine with an unexpected, crushing strength.
