Connie and Hal looked forward to the party at their son Stevie’s house. Their kids and grandchildren would be there to help celebrate the couple’s anniversary. It had been forty years since she and Hal had married.
Connie awoke at 6:30 am but lay in bed for the next half hour, her eyes closed, her head on Hal’s chest. She listened to his rhythmic heartbeat. They had slept in the same bed for years and never tired of his life’s cadence.
Five months ago during a physical Hal had gotten a life-threatening diagnosis. He had been a man who never got sick, he exercised, Connie feed him sensibly, and he took his vitamins dutifully. There had been no history of the illness in his family, then suddenly, pow, eight weeks of chemo and then surgery. The treatment had gone well and the doctor was optimistic. Hal would make a full recovery but the side effects were way less than perfect. He and Connie handled them as well as possible.
Now Connie opened her eyes and looked about the bedroom, at the things she cared for most in her life. Her world changed slowly from black, to charcoal, to promising sepia as she lay there. The large wedding photo of her that hung to the right of their bed came into focus. On her dresser she saw her grandmother’s ceramic bells, her mother’s candy dish filled with a granddaughter’s scrunchies and other hair clips, her watch, the small Bible she carried at her wedding and a favorite photo of Hal and their youngest son, Michael.
Connie heard a bird’s predawn song and turned to the window. She noted that the summer curtains still hung and needed to be changed before the colder weather came. Her eyes gazed past them to the tree, a hemlock. Hal had planted it their first Christmas in the house. It now stood tall and straight. Through the partially open window, with each stir of the late autumn breeze, Connie could smell the earthy, pine scent of its petite, almost feminine needles. A new season had started.
She sighed and turned onto her right side, the pillow supported her cheek and neck. Her eyes scanned Hal’s profile. His face and hair had thinned but she could still see the young man she loved somewhere just below the deep lined surface. Like a whisper she gave his ear a soft touch and smiled. He opened his eyes a crack then patted her shoulder. She pulled the covers over his. He drifted back to sleep.
She rolled away from Hal, sat up and put her feet into slippers then grabbed the green chenille robe that hung from a chair back. The room came into focus as the early morning light grew.
Connie prepared for Mass. She took her good blue dress from the closet and placed it carefully across the foot of the bed then turned to her dresser. From the top drawer she took out a bra and matching panties, panty hose and a half slip. These items she also laid upon the bed. She disrobed, letting the green chenille pool about her ankles. As she reached for the first article of clothing her eyes met Hal’s. He watched her and smiled. She smiled back, then took her time and slowly dressed in front of him.
When she finished she bent down and kissed his lips. “I’ll make coffee before I head out.”
“Thanks,” he smiled.
She brewed the coffee. Hal enjoyed a cup first thing in the morning. She herself would not take a sip until she returned. She never ate or drank before Communion. Some traditions were harder than others to give up.
Connie walked to Mass unless the weather was bad. St Agnes Church stood a few blocks away. Going to Mass every Sunday was one of the few things they no longer did together. Except for the occasional wedding or funeral, Hal hadn’t attended a service since Michael had been killed in Iraq.
.

Connie returned an hour later, walked down the long hall, its wood floors creaked under foot. As she passed the kitchen doorway, she glimpsed Hal. He sat at the table reading the Sunday paper, whiffs of steam rose from his black coffee. At the hall closet she hung her coat then placed her matching blue, boiled-wool hat on the shelf above.
“How’d it go?” he called.
“Fine” She patted her hair in place as she followed his voice back to its source.
Hal handed her a cup of brew with sugar and cream, the way she liked it, then tapped his cup to hers.
“Happy anniversary pumpkin.” He kissed her cheek.
They smiled at each other for a moment then he put both their cups on the counter and wrapped his arms around her. “That’s better.”
Connie could hear the smile in his voice.
“Mmm, happy anniversary Honey.” She held him close and rubbed her hands across his back.
Hal raised his lips from where they had just nestled against her neck, sighed, then pulled back from her. “Sorry,” Hal whispered.
She leaned her head up and looked into his eyes, they glistened. Connie held his head between her hands and kissed his lips. “I love you.”
He bowed his head, resting his forehead against hers. Their noses touched and he gave her an Eskimo kiss. “Think its time to trade me in for a more reliable model.”
Connie tapped his lip with her index finger. “Don’t be silly. The newer models have no personality. They all look the same,” she laughed. “Besides you’re still recovering.” She wrapped her arms around him again and held him close. “Mmm, I’ve missed this lately.”
“I know…” He rested his chin on the top of her head again and huffed. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“Just,” he kept his chin on her head. “Just don’t want to disappoint you again, that’s all.”
“You’re here with me.” She held him tighter. “As long as I have that I’m never disappointed.” She moved her head back so she could again look into his eyes.
“What if I can’t?” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I mean, ever again.”
“The doctor and I aren’t worried.” Her hands still cradled his face. “So don’t you.”
“But it’s been three months since.”
She kissed him before he could finish his thought then rested her head on his shoulder.
“It’s the not knowing for sure,” he said.
“We’ll handle it.” She squeezed him tighter. “We’ve been through far worst than this. We’ll be all right.”
“I love you.”
They stood there wrapped around each other and swayed in place for a moment.
“Hey.” She looked up at him and smiled. “It’s our anniversary. Lighten up!”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Finally they both let go and sat down at the table, Hal read the sports section, Connie browsed through her favorite cook book. They sipped their coffee.
“Think I’ll make a cake with fudge icing.” Connie said after awhile.
“For the party?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought that would be one of the many tasks Heather would effortlessly handle?”
She didn’t answer him.
“Why would you want to make your own anniversary cake, anyway?” He bent his head down, looked over the frame of his reading glasses and lowered the paper. “Thought this was to be another big Steve and Heather production?”
“It is but…” She kept her head down, eyes on the page, she didn’t want him to read her face.
“Okay, but what?” He folded the newspaper and placed it next to his cup.
“Just thought two cakes would be better.” She still didn’t look at him.
“And that’s because?”
“She’s having a special cake made by that bakery the rich and famous always use.” She gave a shrug. “The one she’s always raving about.” Connie turned a page and pretended to read. “Jakes or something?”
“Jacques?”
“Yeah,”
He gave his head a quick dip to the right as he shrugged. “Sounds good.” He went back to the sport’s section.
“Oh I’m sure it will be worth every penny.” She still didn’t raise her nose from the book.
“Okay, Connie. What’s going on?” He put the paper down again, then raised the coffee to his mouth, and paused before taking a sip. “The ‘uber’ daughter-in-law causing problems again?”
She could hear the slight sarcasm in his voice. He had never agreed with her about the motives behind most of Heather’s comments and actions.
“Could be.” She closed the cookbook and laid it on the table to her right.
He chuckled before sipping coffee. “When are you just going to accept her the way she is?” He put the cup down and looked leaned toward her. “I know she can seem spoiled and a bit self- involved, but her heart is in the right place. She’s our son’s wife, mother of his children.” He nodded once. “Don’t take every thing she says or does so personally.” He sat back against the chair his coffee forgotten. “I’m sure the cake will be delicious.” He picked up the paper.
“Oh, it will be delicious all right.” She lifted her head and smiled at her husband. “It’s hazelnut cream.”
“What?” Hal lowered the paper.
“Hazelnut.”
“Doesn’t she know I’m allergic to hazelnuts?” He seemed amazed.
“She knows.” Connie got up, walked to the pantry and gathered cake ingredients.
“But it’s our anniversary.”
“Sorry about that, old boy.” From the pantry she caught a glimpse of Hal’s face. He looked like a little boy just bitten by a puppy. “Heather will have hazelnut cream or nothing. It must be the ‘in’ flavor this season.” Connie turned and gave an empathic smile. “Cost or anything else is irrelevant.”
She walked back to the table her arms loaded down with cake flour, chocolate, both granulated and powered sugar plus a large bottle of vanilla. “Wanna help?” she sighed then smiled.
“If she’s going to be that way about it, you bet!” He stood and took the items out of his wife’s hands then placed them on the counter. “We can put bananas in the icing, right?”
“Yep, anything we want. It’s our anniversary”
He smiled.
They went to work. Connie got the cake pans and turned the oven on while Hal rummaged through the fridge pulling out items as she called them off. She measured out the dry ingredients then leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, as he creamed the butter and granulated sugar together. When he finished mixing he bumped her with his hip.
“What’s next?” He asked.
“Two eggs, as if you don’t know.”
Baking had been one of those things they always did together. In the past, on Saturday nights when they had been young and too poor for a baby sitter, they would put the kids to bed then run into the kitchen and bake a cake together. They’d laugh and talked about their day, Hal telling tales of work, Connie reenacting something funny the kids had done.
The best part was always when the cake was actually in the oven and baking. They’d make love, often right there in the kitchen. Connie giggling that he was going to wake the kids, Hal always saying, “What kids?”
Even years later, when the kids had grown into teenagers, always roaming the house with their friends, and sex had to be delayed until a more opportune moment, baking was foreplay to them. Now for the first time in months, they were baking again. They both had missed it.
When the cake was finally mixed and in its pans, Hal stuck his finger into the batter.
“Hey, stop that, you bad little boy.” She gave his hand a light tap as he put his finger in his mouth. “You’re messing up a masterpiece!”
Hal grinned, stuck his finger back into the batter and scraped even more out of the pan. Connie slapped his hand harder.
He smiled, rolled his chocolate filled tongue against the roof of his mouth and savored it, “Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” his eyes twinkled.
She stared at him for a moment then spoke in a low, sweet voice, “bad boys get sent to bed, or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t.”
They stared at each other as grins slowly grew across their faces. Connie put the cake in the oven, set the timer, then took his hand and led him to the bedroom. They stood by the bed. Hal wrapped his arms around Connie. He leaned back and fell across the mattress taking her with him. She stretched out beside him, rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. He raised her head and kissed her.