Melissa

Ray had collapsed against the chair when I came back. “They’re sending a medevac helicopter,” I told him. “We’re going to be OK.” Then I sank down beside him, pulling an Afghan over both of us. He grasped my hand the way the children used to when I’d comfort them after bad nightmares.

A nightmare, that’s what today was.

“Melissa,” he said after a moment, “why did you think I poisoned you?”

“It isn’t important now.” We’d have to talk about it, of course, but later, when we were both stronger. I’d finally have to confront him about Jake. After that…

“No, please, I need to know.”

“…After Jake…died…”

“Jake? What does his death have to do with this?”

“I was there, Ray. I saw the two of you struggling in midair.”

His lips twisted and he let go of my hand. “The son of a bitch tried to kill me.”

“Jake, kill you? He was your friend. You meant a lot to him.”

“He was your lover.”

“No, my friend, too. All we ever did when we were alone together was talk about you and why our marriage was dying.”

A spasm overcame him, and he made a choking sound. When he recovered, he didn’t speak. I felt a coldness in him—anger, too, directed at me. And suddenly I understood.

“Oh, no!” I said. “You think Jake tried to kill you because of me. You think we conspired to get rid of you!”

His pain-dull eyes watched me for a moment. “You didn’t plan to kill me? And you weren’t sleeping with him?”

“I told you I wasn’t. I’ve slept with exactly two men other than you in my life…the last over five years ago. And even if I had been having an affair with Jake, I would never have plotted to hurt you.” The tears I’d been controlling started again.

Ray put a shaky hand to my cheek, tried to brush them away. “What’ve I been thinking? Accusing you over and over. And today…I thought you’d decided you couldn’t go on without Jake and were going to…Christ, what a hideous, twisted imagination I’ve got!”

“No more than mine. I thought you killed Jake and were faking your illness so I wouldn’t realize you’d poisoned me.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “You know, this would be funny if it wasn’t so…”

“Yes.”

We sat silently for a while. A distant thrumming and flapping noise came from beyond the pine-covered hills to the west.

“What about Jake?” Ray asked. “Why did he grab at my chute like that? There has to be a reason.” He closed his eyes, probably reliving the horrifying experience. “Oh, God,” he said heavily.

“What?”

“Jake taught skydiving, remember. Instructors are trained to notice things that other divers might not. He wasn’t trying to kill me…he was trying to save my life. He must’ve seen something that told him my chute wasn’t going to open. And he saved me at the expense of himself.”

Ray lowered his face into his hands and made a strange sound. At first I couldn’t identify it, then I realized he was crying. I’d never seen him shed so much as a single tear.

I peeled his hands away, took his face in both of mine, and kissed him. No words could ease the grief and shame we were feeling. There were not enough words to do that.