It took the movers three days to fill the house.  On the third day, Victor sat with Jenny and watched them do it, making them rearrange everything to suit her completely, refusing to allow her to exert herself in the slightest.

“It’s my house, darling, I want to put things where I want them!” she complained.

“If I let you start you’ll never stop.  Later on you can move one thing at a time."  He put his arm around her shoulder as they sat on the couch and held her tightly, knowing that if he didn’t she would get up and try to take control anyway.  She pouted a little, but they sat and watched the sunset through the glass wall of the living room as the sea rolled against the cliffs below. 

"It’s beautiful,” she whispered, gazing out toward the water, her face glowing in the pale red light.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, “You’re exquisite."  His heart sank a little as the magical blaze filled the room.  She had chosen this house partly for this magic, and it was everything they had hoped, to sit here together, wrapped in each others arms, safe from the outisde world and yet he could only think, how much more magical to have decades with this woman, decades to fill this place with memories?  How long would they have here?  How long would they have to truly make this place their home?  Then he kissed her passionately, praying that whatever they had would be enough for her.

He kissed her and kissed her, for what seemed like hours until she had to push him away, laughing, "How about we alternate, kiss a little, breath a little?  It will last longer."  Victor went to light a fire and when he returned she had poured wine for them.  When he sat down she wrapped them both in a blanket the movers had left on the sofa.  With the remote control she turned on the sound system, music filled all the rooms on that level of the house.

"I had this blanket on my first tour,” she said, looking down and stroking the threadbare cloth.  “Sometimes I used to sleep in the van to save money, and I got this to keep me warm."  She looked up at him and smiled, "Now I have a house to put it in.  A nice, warm one." 

He stroked her cheek.  "It’s all yours.”

“Ours.  We should have a party.”

“Becky can plan it.  She’ll love it.”

“No way, Victor!” she protested forcefully.  “I am not letting anyone else throw my first party in my own home.”

“You have to relax!”

“I feel fine!  I feel fantastic!  One party, okay?” she looked very sad.  Afraid she might cry, he gave in completely.

“Whatever you want, darling.  Just let Becky help you, okay?  You have to let her be with you.  She’ll make you, even if I can’t.” he added, reassuring himself as much as arguing with her.  She took his hand and squeezed it, sighing heavily.

“Victor you have to stop trying to be in control.  I’m cooperating with you but I am … ” she paused, searching for a way to say what she had to, and then suddenly burst out “Dying, Victor.  I’m dying!  You have to be with me while I’m dying.”

Victor gritted his teeth.  “You’re not dying, baby, you’re sick, but there’s so much hope…”

“Victor, even if there’s hope it’s hope that I’ll stop dying.  I have to deal with that and –” suddenly the futility of attempting to deal with the situation rationally struck her and with the last words her voice rose to a scream – “I need to do things!” she shrieked.  “I cannot sit still and die quietly in a house you bought for me to die in."  She wrapped her arms around her knees and began to sob, tears streaming down her face as he put his arms around her and let her cry.

"Okay, my wife,” he said reassuringly, “My wife forever.  I’m with you.  But even if you die you’re still mine."  He pressed his lips to her forehead.  She caught her breath and tried to laugh.

"I love you, Victor.  I love you so much.” her voice cracked and she began to weep uncontrollably.  “Thank you.  Thank you for being so understanding.”

He held her hands and looked deep in her eyes.  “You are going to have everthing you could possibly want here in our home, and then you are going to get better.”

“But I might not, Victor.  I might not get better at all and you have to accept that.”

“I accept that!” tears were coming to his eyes now.  “I accept it completely but it’s not going to change how I love you at all.  We are married, and even if you die you are still mine.  I wasted twenty fucking years of my life not being married to you and I know.  After twenty years I know.  I love you completely.  There is no one else for me but you, ever.  Beyond any grave, Jennifer, yours or mine, you belong to me so it doesn’t god damn matter."  He pressed his face into her hair, capturing the smell of her, hanging on desperately to every atom of her presence, fixing them in his being for all eternity.  She wiped her tears away and sniffed.

"Just … just … I’m so tired, Victor, and I want this to be right for you.  I want to make this so good for you–”

“It’s good.  It’s the best.  It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of."  He sat back on the sofa and they held hands, looking out at the sunset and the sea.  "We just have to take it one day at a time, is all.”

“One day at a time,” she agreed, and smiled.  “I’ll call Becky tomorrow.”

They sat and talked while the fire burned low and fell asleep in each others arms on their first night at home.