No, it isn't Chapter 5. This is something that Biz suggested to
me, and we wrote together. All our comments are at the end--but
we would like to suggest that if you own the Titanic soundtrack,
you listen to it as you read this.

"Thank you for sticking with me through the trouble I never would
have had if I'd never met you in the first place."
--Jeffrey Singer to Hilary Booth Singer

A Death in the Family
A 'Do You Remember WENN?' companion story
By Michele Savage and Jennifer Feith

Early afternoon found the elder Singers sitting side by side on a
couch that had once, like themselves, belonged in a small radio
station in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. When Betty mentioned they
had remodeled W-E-N-N, Hilary had insisted on the couch from the
green room. That had been nearly twenty years ago. Hilary
sighed wistfully. Where had the years gone?

Jeff turned off the television, draped an arm over his wife's
shoulder and hugged her against him. "What's the sigh for?"

She smiled and lay her head on his shoulder. "I was just
thinking."

He brushed a hand over her hair. "About what, my grand lady?"

"Nothing important. Just years gone by." She mused, "Can you
believe our first grandson is graduating from college in a few
weeks?"

"Time certainly does fly." He turned to Hilary and patted her
knee. "You know something Mrs. Singer. You're still as beautiful
as ever."

"Jeffrey, " she laughed lightly. Even still, his complements
made her blush. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Will it get me lunch?" he asked, a mischevious gleam in his
eyes.

"No." She returned his gaze. "But you can fix me a sandwich,
while you're up."

"Yes, dear," he replied in a jokingly sarcastic tone.

He walked into the kitchen to fix lunch for the both of them.
"Did you still want to run out and get Jeff's gift this
afternoon, Hilary?" he yelled.

"Yes, darling, if you want to." Hilary answered as she picked up
the morning newspaper that still lay scattered over the other end
of the couch, and glanced through the Theatre section again. She
still got the familiar ache of envy whenever she read of a new
Broadway show opening. She read through the reviews and stopped,
one in particular catching her eye. Someone was doing a revival
of "The Rivals." Her Rivals. That, she'd like to see.

"Did you see someone is re-doing The Rivals?" she asked loudly.
When he didn't answer, she called his name. "Jeff?"

She heard a loud crash followed by the sound of someone falling.

"Jeffrey!" Hilary called as she pushed herself of the couch.
When she got to the kitchen, he was lying unconscious on the
floor surrounded by broken dishes. "Darling, please don't do
this to me," she told him, reaching for the closest phone.

She fumbled with the buttons, trying not to let her panic
overtake her common sense. Momentarily she cursed Patty's
Christmas gift of a cordless phone. She finally got it working
and dialed 911.
While she waited for the ambulance, she knelt next to him,
cleared away the broken glass and took his hand into hers.
"You're going to be all right, Pumpkin," she whispered. "It'll be
all right."

At the hospital, she sat in the Emergency Room waiting room,
fidgeting with her hands and trying desperately not to worry.
But she knew the longer it took...

She had already called her son's house. Patty had assured her
they'd round up the rest of the family and be in New York by
nightfall. And because she'd needed a friend, she'd called
Betty, who had assured her she was dropping everything and
catching the next flight out of Pittsburgh. That had been nearly
three hours ago, but it seemed like only moments.

"Hilary."

She looked up at the sound of her name and stood, seeing Betty
walking toward her. The two women embraced. Hilary lingered,
glad to finally have someone with her.

"Have you heard anything?" Betty asked, making herself as
comfortable as possible in the chair.
"No. That has me more than a little frightened."

Betty patted Hilary's hand assuredly. "I'm sure they are doing
everything they can."

"I'm sure they are," she said with a dismissal wave of her hand.
When she next spoke, her tone was quieter and less sure. "Betty,
what am I going to do without him?"

"Now, Hilary, don't talk like that," Betty said in a comforting
tone. She caught a glimpse of a white coat moving toward them.
"Look, here comes the doctor."

"Mrs. Singer, I'm Jack Watson, the doctor on call. Would you come
this way, please?" He extended his arm to her helpfully. They
stood, and Betty introduced herself as a family friend.

She and Betty followed the doctor into the small office. Hilary
grew more concerned when he shut the door and sat in front of
them with a somber look on his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

He regarded the regal woman who watched him expectantly. This
was the part of his job he hated. How does one tell a woman that
her lifelong partner may not make it through the night?

"Well?" Hilary repeated

He took a deep breath, and started, "Your husband apparently had
a minor heart attack this afternoon. That's when you called the
ambulance and had him brought in."

"So, he's going to be okay?" she asked plaintively.

Dr. Watson gave Betty a look that told her everything. She put
her arms comfortingly around Hilary's shoulders. "Let's listen
to what he has to say, Hilary."

The doctor continued, "While we were stabilizing him, he had a
massive heart attack. We've called in a specialist, but there's
little else we can do."

Hilary swallowed. "How long?" She asked in a voice that was
much stronger than she felt.

Dr. Watson took Hilary's hand and squeezed compassionately,
"Eighteen. Twenty-four hours at the most," he said softly. "I'm
sorry."

Betty felt Hilary virtually collapse, then stiffen as her inner
strength took control. "I need to see him." It wasn't a
question or a request, but a carefully worded order as only
Hilary Booth Singer could give.

The sandy-haired doctor smiled. "He's being transferred to a
private room in Intensive Care. I'll have a nurse take you up
there."

"Thank you."

The two women followed Dr. Watson out of the room, and waited
while he explained to the nurse that he wanted her to take them
up to the ICU. Betty glanced at Hilary and noticed she was
struggling to hold her composure. She lay a hand on her dear
friend's arm, and gave her a comforting smile. "You'll be
alright, Hilary."

Hilary nodded slightly, "I certainly hope so."

Not long after the nurse had left them, Jeff had fallen asleep.
Hilary had to resist the urge to shake him awake, hating to see
what little time they had left go to waste. Instead, she stayed
at his bedside, the sandwich and coffee Betty had brought her
remaining untouched as she prayed for a miracle.

"Hilary."

Her eyes instinctively went to her husband's face, despite the
fact that the voice was Betty's. Disoriented, she turned toward
the door.

"Andrew's here," Betty said softly. "With Patty and John."

A rush of relief surged through Hilary. She'd been half afraid
that they wouldn't make it in time. Saying goodbye to Jeffrey
was going to be hard enough as it was. She hadn't liked the idea
of facing it without the rest of her family. "Where are they?"
she asked quietly.

"Out in the hall," Betty answered.

"Do they know--" she broke off, swallowing hard.

Betty shook her head. "The doctor hasn't been by. I wasn't
sure if you would want me to tell them, or if you'd rather that
they hear it from you."

"I'll tell them." Hilary stood slowly. She took a step toward
the door, then turned back to face Jeff again. Panicked
indecision flooded her expression at the prospect of leaving the
room. "I don't want to bring the whole family in at once and
disturb him...but if he wakes up..."

Betty put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Hilary closed her
eyes, grateful again for the other woman's presence. This
certainly wasn't the first time Betty had come through for her in
a crisis, even if all she could do was offer the comfort of
friendship. Dimly, Hilary was also able to recognize that there
was a faint comfort in knowing that she wasn't the only woman to
go through this. She was far from ready to contemplate the idea
now, but it did encourage her on some level to see how well Betty
was doing since Victor's death.

Three years ago. Had it been that long already? By contrast,
the years stretching ahead seemed to be an eternity. She turned
quickly from thoughts of a future without Jeffrey, focusing again
on the present.

"Go talk to your family," Betty was saying. "I'll come get you
if Jeff wakes up."

Hilary nodded, even managing a faint smile. "Thanks, Betty."

Andrew Singer paced the hallway outside his father's room. He
had always hated waiting.

He was a powerful man, his law career having been successful
since the beginning. He had close friends in the state attorney
general's office, and contacts in the Virginia legislature.
Every two years, there was talk of his running for office. He
had resisted the idea so far, feeling that the timing wasn't
right. Above all things, Andrew Singer valued being in control.
And there was nothing he hated more than the helplessness he was
currently feeling.

His wife was sitting in a chair someone had left next to the door
across the hall, perhaps more subdued than he'd ever seen her.
Patty had flown into action the moment Hilary had called, making
travel arrangements and calling both of their sons. Andrew had
been in court--he hadn't known what was going on until a
secretary from the firm had slipped him a message during a
recess. He had left the case in the hands of the junior partner
who had accompanied him that day, hoping that the younger man
would have the sense to ask for a recess and call one of the
senior partners if things got sticky. It was only the second
time he had walked out on a trial in his career--the first in
twenty years, since his wife had gone into labor unexpectedly
during her second pregnancy.

John was slumped back against the wall next to his mother. For
the first time, Andrew was glad that his younger son had decided
to spend his first two years after high school at the local
community college rather than following his older brother to the
University of Virginia or one of the other universities that had
offered him admission. He had made no secret of his belief that
John was wasting opportunity by turning down the scholarship
offers that had come his way. As hard as it had been to get in
touch with Jeff, though, he was just as glad that John had been
close to home. Aside from which, Andrew realized, he appreciated
having his son with him at that moment--even if they had barely
spoken. He made up his mind to tell John that, once the crisis
was over.

Hilary appeared in the doorway. Andrew immediately stopped
pacing and turned to face his mother. The worn look on her face
as he stepped forward to greet her with a hug frightened him more
than a little. Apparently the news wasn't good.

Patty embraced her mother-in-law as well, followed by John.
"How's Dad doing?" Andrew asked.

"He's asleep," Hilary hedged. "The doctor said--" She stopped,
glancing around. "Where's Jeff?"

"I left a message with his roommate," Patty said. "He had us
paged at the airport and said he'd be up here as soon as he
could."

It had completely slipped Hilary's mind that Jeff would be at
school. He was probably getting ready for finals, too, she
realized. Of all the times for tragedy to strike... She
realized with a fresh wave of sorrow that her husband wouldn't be
at his namesake's graduation, just weeks away.

"What happened, Mom?" Andrew's patience was about to give way.
"Is Dad going to be all right?"

Hilary pressed her lips together and shook her head. "It doesn't
look like it. The doctor said it was a heart attack. He doesn't
think--" She faltered. Tears had already formed in Patty's
eyes. Hilary drew a slow breath. "He doesn't think he'll make
it through the night."

John swallowed and looked to the side, blinking rapidly. Andrew
stood rigidly frozen in place. "When can we see him?" he asked
once he could be sure of his voice.

The door behind Hilary opened before she could answer. "He's
awake, Hilary," Betty said.

Andrew was struck by the change that came over his mother. She
pulled herself up a bit straighter, summoning the careful control
he had always associated with her. The years that seemed to have
appeared in her face in the last few hours faded as she turned to
the door. "Just a minute," she said to them, stepping into the
room.

"How are you feeling, Pumpkin?" She took the hand Jeff stretched
out to her.

"I feel...fine, actually. Ironic, isn't it?" He gestured to the
IV stand next to the bed. "Although I do wonder what they've got
me hooked up to here."

Hilary smiled. "Well, if you're not in pain, it's probably
working, and we shouldn't question it," she said as lightly as
she could manage.

"Probably so." Jeff turned serious. "Hilary, don't let me fall
asleep again. If I really don't have that much time left, I
don't want to spend it sleeping." He pressed her hand with as
much force as he could muster. "Promise me."

"I promise," Hilary blinked back tears.

Jeff glanced at the door. "Betty said Andrew and the family are
here."

Hilary nodded. "Do you want to see them now?"

He did. Hilary opened the door again and signaled to her
anxiously waiting family. Andrew, Patty, and John filed in,
Betty remaining outside.

There was an uncomfortable silence, as no one knew quite what to
say. Finally, Patty stepped forward to hug her husband's father.
"Hi, Dad," she said, eyes glistening. She had loved her father-
in-law almost as long as she had loved his son.

Jeff smiled, his gaze taking in them all. "It's good to see
you," he said.

Even though the ice had been broken, it still seemed that his
relatives were uncomfortable. Andrew cursed mentally, searching
for something to say. An inquiry into his father's health and
well-being seemed inane. To fill the silence, he began telling
the story of something amusing that had happened in court that
morning--only to stop abruptly, thinking no one was listening.
And what had he been thinking of, anyway, he wondered with a
flare of fury at himself that settled into a smoldering disgust.
Joking at his father's deathbed--

"Go on," Jeff urged. Andrew's head snapped around incredulously.
He hadn't realized that anyone was actually following the tale.
A bit hesitantly at first, Andrew finished the story. He savored
his father's laughter. There wouldn't be future opportunities to
hear that familiar sound.

"You think that's funny," John interposed, "Wait'll you hear what
happened to a friend of mine. He had met this girl the night
before, and..." He went on to tell a story so full of gross
exaggerations and outrageous lies that his audience knew he
didn't intend to be believed. It *was* funnier than Andrew' s
story, however, and--due to the concealed tension in the room--
was received with even more hilarity than it deserved.

With one exception. Despite her determination to appear strong
for Jeffrey, Hilary couldn't quite bring herself to laugh.
Instead, she sat stiffly in the chair she had taken by her
husband's bed. Jeff's eyes were warm as he turned his gaze to
her face, speaking to the others. "Have you heard the one about
the Romanian queen and the elephant?"

There was a shimmer of humor in his wife's eyes. The rest of his
family faced him with blank stares. "That's an old one," Hilary
murmured softly. "Tell it to them, Pumpkin."

"Well, you see..." Jeff began. A jolt of pain shot through his
body. Wincing, he stopped speaking.

Hilary was out of her seat in an instant. "What is it, Jeffrey?"

"It's nothing," he tried to reassure her. "I'm fine, darling."

She wasn't buying it. She noticed, too, that as Jeff went on
with the joke, his voice seemed to be weaker than it had been.
Just before the punchline, Hilary stepped out into the hallway.

"Betty," she called softly. The other woman looked up. "Could
you find the doctor and ask him to come in here?"

"Of course." Betty looked at Hilary with compassion. "How are
you holding up?"

"I'm not sure I know," Hilary admitted. "I'm too busy trying to
get through today one minute at a time to know how I feel."

"Sometimes that's all you can do," Betty said understandingly.
"Go on back in. I'll get the doctor."

By the time Dr. Watson arrived, the pain Jeffrey was in was
evident enough to make Hilary glad she had sent for him when she
did. The family was exiled from Jeff's room while the doctor was
with him, and anxiously waiting for him when he stepped out.

"I increased the pain medication, Mrs. Singer, but there's little
else I can do," he said apologetically. "I'd suggest you limit
the number of family with him to one or two at a time--your
husband doesn't have much energy left, and carrying on a
conversation with several people at once is becoming a strain for
him."

Hilary nodded. "Thank you again, Dr. Watson."

John looked around at his parents and grandmother. "Can I have a
minute?" he asked, inclining his head toward the door. When no
one objected, he disappeared into his grandfather's room.

The others were left standing awkwardly in the hallway. "I'm
going to go down the hall for a cup of coffee," Patty said at
last. "Anyone else?"

Andrew tore his eyes away from the closed door. "I'll come with
you," he said brusquely. Patty reached out and put a hand on her
husband's arm, turning to her mother-in law. "Hilary?"

"No," Hilary said, glancing about. "No, I'll stay here." Her
voice was firm. Nothing was going to move her further from her
husband than she already was.

Andrew looked as if he was going to object, then changed his
mind. Hilary sank into the chair that Betty had been using
earlier, watching as her son and his wife moved down the hall.
Patty's hand was still on Andrew's arm, and Hilary watched as
they shared a brief, reassuring embrace just before turning the
corner and leaving her sight. The support they were offering
each other was plain to be seen--and achingly familiar to Hilary.

"Oh, Jeffrey," she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes for the
first time during the entire ordeal. She bowed her head as if to
hide them--from whom, she didn't know.

"Grandmother!"

Hilary jerked her head up at the familiar voice. In several long
strides, her elder grandson was at her side.
Jeff Singer looked down at his grandmother with concern. He had
been greeted in the hospital by a woman who had known him since
infancy. Though Betty hadn't wanted to be the one to tell him,
Jeff had convinced her to give him the details of his
grandfather's condition. What he had heard had barely begun to
sink in. He was anxious to see his grandfather, and grieved at
the news he had just received--but his primary concern at the
moment was for his grandmother.

Hilary blinked back her tears as she stood to greet him. The
care in his face, so like her husband's, was nearly her undoing.
Jeff reached for her, pulling her into a hug. A sob escaped
Hilary as she felt his arms go around her.

The lump in Jeff's throat grew larger. He held his grandmother
in his arms just as she had held him so many times during his
childhood, silently offering his strength for her to lean on. It
was too much for her to refuse. Abandoning her own severely
strained reserves for the moment, Hilary cried in her grandson's
arms.

The increased dosage of medication must be taking effect, John
decided. Though his grandfather seemed more tired than he had
been before, he wasn't in any apparent pain.

"I've got news for you, Grandpa," he said with forced
cheerfulness. "I haven't told the rest of the family yet. I've
been waiting for a good time to drop this on Dad's head and say
'Look, I was right and you were wrong.' " He looked momentarily
abashed. "It was childish, I guess."

"Maybe," Jeff acknowledged. "It's understandable, though. You
and your father have been at odds for several years now." He
looked at John expectantly.

"I'm going to start at Georgia Tech this fall," John said. "The
scholarship they're giving me as a transfer student is actually
going to work out to be a little bit more per year than the one
they offered me as a freshman."

Jeff smiled proudly. "That's great, John."

"Between the scholarship and the fact that I've been able to work
and save money for the last two years, I'm going to be able to
finish school without taking any money from Mom and Dad," John
continued.

Jeff gazed at his grandson. "That's important to you, isn't it?"

John nodded. "Not for the reason Dad thinks, though. I know he
thinks I've refused to take money from him because I'm mad at
him, or I'm trying to rebel. I just want to do this on my own."

"He may understand better than you think," Jeff pointed out. "In
a lot of ways, you're a lot alike." Headstrong, stubborn--each
determined to succeed, but in his own way and style--Jeff smiled.
They were qualities that had undoubtedly been passed down by his
wife. "And even if he doesn't, he loves you more than he'll say.
He's your father and he's proud of you."

John looked skeptical. "Promise me you'll talk to him," Jeff
said. "You two really need to work things out."

"I'll try," John conceded. "I'm not sure he'll listen."

Jeff's eyes held a spark of humor. "He'll listen. I'll make him
promise, too. Neither of you have the heart to break a promise
to a dying old man."

John smiled faintly. "I love you, Grandpa."

Hilary pulled away, wiping her eyes. Vaguely embarrassed to have
lost control in front of her grandson, she instinctively patted
her hair as if to make sure it was still in place--a question
that was in actuality the least of her concerns.

Jeff was watching her carefully, probably to make sure she was
well and truly done with her outburst. For her part, Hilary felt
she could go on crying for some time to come--but her iron-willed
self-control was already reasserting itself, reminding her that
now was the time to be strong. Strong for Jeffrey, and strong
for her family. Later, there would be plenty of time for tears.

She was about to speak when the door opened and John stepped out.
He drew in a shaky breath, letting it out in a long sigh. "Hey,
Jeff," he said soberly. He jerked his head back toward the door.
"Want to go in and see him?"

"In a little bit," Jeff said, still watching Hilary. "You go
ahead, Grandmother."

"No, Jeff. " She objected, "You need--to say goodbye." She
closed her eyes against the ache.

He smiled reassuredly to her and walked past his brother into the
room.

"Hi, Grandad." Jeff tried to hide his reaction to the
disconcerting sight of his grandfather, surrounded by tubes and
monitors.

"Jeff. I'm glad you made it." Jeffrey gestured to the chair. "I'd
like to talk to you."

"I came up as soon as I could," Jeff said, sitting.

"I understand." His grandfather smiled. "Are you getting ready
for graduation?"

"I'll be ready...my last paper is almost ready to turn in. I
spoke to my professor before I left and asked if I could have an
extra couple of days..." he drifted off.

Jeff gave an understanding smile. "Well, I'm sure it will be a
good one. You always were a good student."

"Except for sophomore year of high school." Jeff grinned.
"Remember when you and Grandmother were visiting, and my English
teacher called to complain about me?"

Jeffrey did remember. "The last straw had been that horrible
paper I'd done on the history of modern drama," Jeff continued.
"Dad was ready to kill me, but Grandmother stuck up for
me...until she realized I'd used Grace Cavendish as an example of
the transition from stage to film."

Jeffrey laughed. "Hilary was fit to be tied. Your worst mistake
was using Ruth Getty for the musical example. I still hear about
that, by the way, Jeff Singer."

"So do I," Jeff groaned. "Does she ever forgive and forget?"

"Jeff, she hasn't forgiven me yet for what happened in Mexico the
day after our first wedding." Jeffrey glanced at the closed door,
and his eyes took on a faraway look. He was obviously remembering
something.

Jeff shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable. "So, what
did happen?"

Jeffrey looked back at his grandson. "Where should I begin?"
His eyes held a youthful sparkle. "I think the unforgivable
started the moment Hilary woke up and realized we were married.
I'd never seen anyone jump out of a bed so fast."

Jeff tried to picture the scene his grandfather described, and
found he couldn't. "Well, obviously she decided that being
married wasn't the worst mistake she ever made."

Jeffrey smiled. "It took her several--hell, took us both several
years to realize that." He then turned serious and reached for
his grandson's hand. "Promise me something, Jeff..." He trailed
off.

Jeff frowned slightly at the change in his grandfather's tone.
"What is it?"

"Your grandmother depends so much on me. She's ... this isn't
going to be easy for her." He stopped a moment, trying to contain
the emotion in his voice. "Promise me, you'll be there for her.
When she needs you." Jeffrey turned toward the window.

Jeff glanced at the door, remembering Hilary's tears of just
moments before. "I'll do my best," he said softly.

"Thank you." Jeffrey turned back to face Jeff, "I feel better,
knowing she'll be all right."

Jeff looked down at the hand still holding his. It was the same
hand that had held him as a child, and clapped him on the back as
he got older. For twenty-two years, his grandfather's had been
one of the hands helping to guide his life. "You're welcome," he
said faintly, feeling as if he was the one who should be thanking
his grandfather for countless little and not-so-little things.

Jeffrey squeezed his first-born grandson's hand and reflected,
not for the first time, just how like himself he was. There was a
passion for life in the young man's eyes. A wisdom beyond his
years. "I love you, Jeff. Keep the family together."

Jeff stood, recognizing the weight of responsibility his
grandfather had just handed over to him. He bent down to hug the
older man. "I love you too, Grandad," he said. "Things aren't
going to be quite the same."

Jeffrey hugged Jeff back, "Look to the future. Everything will be
all right." Jeffrey saw the younger man trying to hide tears, and
took a deep breath. The pain was starting to return. "Now, go on.
Tell everyone to go home." Jeff again took his grandson's hand,
"I'd like to spend the rest of ... I'd like for Hilary to be
here now."

Visiting hours passed, but Hilary refused to leave her husband's
side. She shooed everyone else to the hotel they had checked
into, and sat again in the chair she'd moved to his bedside. The
nurses seemed to understand and left them alone, unless an
interruption was unavoidable.

"I guess it's just you and me, Mittens," he said, weakly cupping
her cheek.

She took his hand into hers and turned to press a kiss against
his palm, "I guess so, Pumpkin." She laughed. "Do you remember
that fool director? What was his name?"

"Peck?" he supplied.

"Yes. I wonder if he ever got that movie made."

Jeff smiled. "Somehow I doubt it. Peter..."

"Paul," Hilary corrected, immediately wondering "or was it
Peter?"

He laughed quietly, "Whatever. He wasn't much of a replacement."

She grinned. "Oh, no. You were the only Valentino we had at the
station." She brushed a hand across his forehead. "And you were
wonderful, my love."

"You weren't so bad yourself, Hilary Booth." He brought her hand
to his mouth and breathed a kiss softly on her fingers. "We were
quite a pair, you and I."

"Of course we were." She closed her eyes against the tears she
didn't want him to see. She cleared her throat. "What about
Scott Sherwood and his all news day disaster?"

Jeff spoke. "He was so sure that would be a great idea. And it
*was* a great idea. Just too early for it's time."

"And he had to pick the slowest news day of World War Two,"
Hilary added. "I sat at home listening, and you all sounded as
bored as I was."

He smiled. "Yes we were, darling, thank you so much for the
help."

"Now, dear, you know I don't do the news," she said with a
twinkle in her eye.

They reminisced long into the night. As the morning drew closer,
Jeff was visibly getting weaker. Hilary knew she wouldn't have
him much longer, so she stayed close to his side and kept him
talking about past times. She knew it was a futile thought--that
if she kept him talking, he wouldn't drift away.

Finally, he stopped and gazed at her as if looking at her for the
first time. He reached around her head, pulled her mouth to his
and kissed her with a passion that sixty years had never
lessened.

She could no longer hold back the tears. "You can't leave me
alone, Jeffrey."

"I'm never going to leave you, Hilary. I'll always be here." He
pointed to her heart.

She wiped away the tears, and reclaimed his hand, holding
tightly.

"Hilary, my ring. Did they give you my ring?" He asked
urgently.

"Andrew has it, darling. He took your things to the hotel so they
wouldn't get misplaced."

"Good." He relaxed. "I want you to wear it. So that you know a
part of me will always be with you. Then I want it to go to
Jeff."

She choked back a sob. "Okay. I'll make sure that happens."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and smiled. Opening them
again, he looked at the woman who had been his wife, his leading
lady, his soulmate for most of his life. The years slid away,
and he saw her as young and beautiful as she had been the day he
met her. He squeezed her hand as tightly as he could. "I love
you, Mittens." he said, as he took his last breath.

She knew he was gone, the moment he spoke. "I love you too,
Pumpkin." She lay her head against his shoulder and cried.

She didn't move until she felt hands on her shoulders, leading
her from the room. Hilary walked blindly into the small chapel
and sat alone with her thoughts and memories. She didn't want to
let him go just yet.

"Andrew, why don't you call the funeral home and make the
arrangements, so Hilary doesn't have to," Betty suggested.

"Patty's doing it," Andrew said distractedly. "You know how she
likes to plan...organize things...it'll be a beautiful funeral."

"I'm going to go see if your mother's all right." Betty started
into the chapel, when Andrew stopped her.

"Betty...um...here." He handed her Jeff's ring. "Mom...will
want this."

She took the ring, nodding silently, and walked into the chapel.

Betty slid into the pew opposite Hilary so she wouldn't have to
maneuver in front of her. She sat and put an arm around Hilary's
shoulders.

When she felt the comforting touch, Hilary fell apart. She
leaned against Betty and cried until she had no tears left.
Wiping her eyes, she sat straight again. "I wasn't supposed to
outlive him, Betty."

"Do you think it would have been any easier on Jeff?" Betty asked
softly.

"No. You're right," Hilary acknowledged. "I'm just speaking
through the pain right now."

Betty took Hilary's hand. "Do you remember what you gave me when
Victor died?"

Hilary nodded with a slight smile. "Mr. Eldridge's words of
comfort."

Betty handed her the weathered and worn slip of paper.

Hilary read the words and smiled. "Jeffrey read this at Tom's
funeral. Do you remember that?"

Betty opened her palm and silently offered the ring to Hilary,
who closed her hand around it and held it tightly. "He's really
gone, isn't he, Betty?" she asked with disbelief in her voice.

"You have your son, and your grandchildren," Betty said in
comforting words, knowing what her friend was going through.
"He'll live on through them, like Victor is living on through our
children, and their children."

Hilary turned to her oldest and dearest friend. "Thank you,
Betty. For being the best friend I never expected to have." She
hugged the woman once more, and then strengthening her resolve
said, "Now, I think I would like to see my son and grandsons."

She stood and waited for Betty, and they both walked out of the
chapel together.

Love can touch us one time
And last for a lifetime.
And never let go till we're gone.
Love was when I loved you
One true time I hold to.
In my life we'll always go on.

excerpt: My Heart Will Go On
(Love theme from Titanic)
Lyrics by Will Jennings
Copyright: Famous Music Corp.

The End

Disclaimer:
Jeff (the elder), Hilary, and Betty belong to Rupert Holmes and
have been borrowed with love--despite what you might think after
having read this particular story! Andrew, Patty, Jeff (the
younger) and John belong to Jennifer Feith and have been quite
willingly shared. :)

Michele's comments:

Where did this story come from? Well, when I became a Beta-
reader for Jennie, I read the beginnings of the conversation
between Scott and Hilary in chapter 4. When I read Hilary's
reaction still a year after Jeff's death, (Jennie, you did that
so well!) something struck me about it, and I felt I needed to
know how Jeffrey died, since it apparently had been sudden. I
simply could not get the scene out of my head where just after
Jeffrey dies, Hilary lay her head on his shoulder and cried for
the longest time, as if in death, he was still supporting her. I
remember thinking (and telling Jennie) "that had to have killed
Hilary as well" No sooner than the words were out of my mouth,
the story was on paper.

This story was written entirely by the Titanic Soundtrack, with
the scenes I wrote written solely to "My Heart Will Go On". Of
course I can no longer listen to that song without thinking of
Jeff and Hilary.

Jennie and I discovered through writing this story that we share
a brain , where Jeff and Hilary are concerned. (And Hugh, but
that's a WHOLE other conversation all together! ;) ) Though we
laughed at the irony of the first story we co-wrote together, we
kill Jeffrey. Well, I can promise to you guys, AND to Jeff and
Hilary that the next story will make up for it. But like Jennie
will say . . she needs to get Do You Remember WENN? finished.

I also want to say thanks Jennie for letting me play in your
sandbox. You are more than welcome to play in mine. Bethie would
love to have new friends. :)

Jennie's comments:

Well, now that Biz has basically said everything I wanted to
say... ;)

Biz and I had discussed the idea of writing a story together
before. We liked working with the same characters, and our
writing styles seemed like they would mesh well. So, when she
wrote me to ask if I was going to do a piece focusing on Jeff's
death--and if I wasn't, if she could do it--I said we should do
that collaboration we'd been talking about. I suggested she
wait, that we could tackle it after I finished Do You Remember
WENN? That was the plan...until, in a fit of inspiration, Biz
wrote a beginning and an end and sent it to me to fill in the
gaps. Of course, by the time we were done, our
contributions were a bit more integrated than that. There's even
a scene in there that we wrote together, alternating lines and
paragraphs, while on IRC...truly an interesting compositional
method. I have to commend Biz for her patience with me, during
the entire time we've been working on this piece and last night
in particular.

As she says, Jeffrey's death is probably the last thing you would
have expected for our first joint story. I *think* we've worked
out a way to divide the blame. The original idea of Jeff's death
was in my story, but Biz was the first to write anything about
the actual event. So, when you send the lynch mobs--pick your
target. ;)

In all seriousness, though...this story was hard to write at times.
In the process, though, I learned a lot about my
characters--things that will carry over to make Do You Remember
WENN? a better story. So, I'm grateful to Biz for her early
burst of inspiration and the bouncing-off point she provided.

Oh--just in case you had any doubts--this counts as your
installment of Do You Remember WENN? for the week! I'm off to
sleep for the next day or so!

BACK