Max was sitting up against the headboard and it looked like he hadn't moved since she had left to go into the shower.
"Max?" she finally said, leaning closer to get a better look at him in the low light. Although he was sitting up and looked alert, his eyes were closed and he was sound asleep.
Liz shook her head. He had responded to her maybe a minute ago, when she had called out from the bathroom. Still, she knew he was a heavy sleeper, and he seemed to be able to go right to sleep even when worry made it difficult for her.
For a moment, she considered shaking him, but decided against being selfish. After the day they'd had, Max was more than entitled to some rest. Besides, there was no way to know what tomorrow would bring.
Liz slipped his jeans and shirt off, knowing it would take more than that to wake him. Then she pulled the quilt up to his shoulders.
Well, Max will have to get his surprise another time, she thought.
Isabel saw that the handwriting on the next page was ragged, as if the man who had written it was shaky. There was no date on top.
I knew something was wrong when I woke. I fell asleep with my head on Claire's lap while she held our baby in her arms. I woke slowly, then started up when I realized that something was different.
I had been dreaming of a fire, no doubt because of the heat from my wife's fever. Then the fire in my dreams went out. The change woke me and, for a wonderful moment, I thought her fever had broken. I felt a brief swell of joy. My wife would be well, everything would be all right.
Then I realized something was wrong. The fever was gone, but she was cold, and so was our child. I frantically tried to wake them, raving as I did. My sounds woke Father, who came quickly. He checked them both, and his face was stricken.
He put his arms around me for the first time in my living memory and said, "They're gone, son."
I pushed him away, still raving. He had to fix this, I screamed. He could make calls. He had doctors, lawyers. He needed to pay someone, do something. I was mad, and in my madness I could only think that Father had never failed at anything in his life. The world seemed to bend to his will. There was nothing he could not do.
He let me rave and then gently laid me down next to my Claire and our Jonathan. Father made calls. Men came. They wore masks and wanted to take Claire and Jonathan from me.
I would not let them. I told them that Father would fix it.
They waited. Finally I let them take my wife and son. They were gone, and I was in a world I did not understand.
The next entry also had no date.
This morning I tended Andrew and Sarah while I was vaguely aware that Father was making calls and some sort of arrangements. For a moment I was grateful that the fever had kept Andrew and Sarah from waking, for long I am a coward. I did not know how I would answer them if they asked for their mother.
Sarah, woke briefly and looked at me for a moment of complete clarity and said, "Daddy, I'm thirsty."
She could not sit up, so I propped her head with pillows and fed her water with a spoon. She looked
at me for one wonderful moment and said, "Thank you, Daddy."
She passed in the night.
I did not rave this time. Father called the same men again, and they came in their protective masks. I wanted to tell them they didn't need their masks. This terrible disease only took women and children… my woman and my children. But I found that I could not speak.
I did not let them take Sarah for hours… not because I thought Father would fix this or God would take it back, but because I could not make my hands release her.
Later, Claire came to speak to me when Father was out. I was surprised, but she told me she would explain everything. She said she could only stay a little while. She just wanted me to know that everything was going to be all right. Next time, she would stay longer and bring Jonathan with her.
Andrew is worse. He wakes briefly sometimes, but by now I know the signs. Claire stopped in with Jonathan to tell me not to worry. I cannot help it, but felt better when she gave me Jonathan to hold.
I was glad to see them both free of the sickness. They are fully recovered now. Though I begged her, she said they could not stay long. She kissed me and said, "It's getting late." Then she left before Father returned.
Later, I gave Andrew some water with a spoon, then… God forgive me… I drank from the same
spoon. I know now that God has only made me wait to become sick so that I could take care of my family.
But I do not think I can wait anymore.
Father came in as I was doing it and screamed from across the room. He ripped the spoon from my hand and looked at me with a crazed, furious expression on his face. I thought for a moment that he might strike me, then he broke down in front of me. "No, not you," he said, tears running down his face.
He was in such pain that I had to tell him that Claire had been to see me and brought Jonathan. She had told me that everything was going to be all right.
I shared Andrews spoon again when Father was out.
I know Claire told me not to worry, but I could not help it. I climbed into Andrew's bed, hoping that if I kept him near me and kept awake, he would be well. I lay with him for hours and tried to will him to get well.
In the end, I failed. I fell asleep, and in the morning he was gone.
All of them, gone.
Not even Claire could console me, even though she brought Jonathan and Sarah to visit me. I begged her to stay, but she had to leave when Father came back with the men who wanted to take Andrew from me.
I told them to go away. They had taken the others,
but I would not let them take my son. I was determined not to let them. But I failed again. As it grew dark, I fell asleep. They must have taken him then.
Claire visited me while I slept. She had all of the children with her. We played as a family, as we had planned to do in the summer.
When I woke it was just Father and I. He does not look well. When did Father get so old? I did not think it was possible. He seemed beyond such things, immune.
Father tried to get me to leave the infirmary, but I refused. I still feel well, but I know that I must be sick. Claire and the children became sick, how could I be spared? So I lay in the last bed, the only one that had not been used.
Father cleaned and brought me food. He would leave me only briefly to make calls. I wish he would leave me alone. Claire and the children can only come when he is gone.