Unspoken

Chapter 16

October 16, 1992

The air was cool outside on the veranda of John and Isabella's bedroom suite. He held his wife in his arms as they slowly swayed to the accordion music drifting up from the gondola below. Isabella leaned heavily against him, warm and soft as he tried not to think about how thin she'd become since their arrival in Italy. Her soft brown curls brushed his cheek, tickling his skin. He was so attuned with her, that he felt almost immediately when her arms started to go weak. He caught her just as her knees buckled. Staring down at her with concern, he touched her face gently, whispering, "Hey, hey. Baby? Izzy?"

She got her footing with his help, and she smiled weakly as she said, "Yeah. Yeah... maybe I should sit down for a second."

"We probably overdid it today, huh?" he asked. Isabella had been lucid for a significant span of time that day, and she'd insisted on spending it with him and Brady. She'd refused to nap, instead choosing to stay awake and talk for most of the afternoon.

She shook her head to disagree with him, even as she allowed John to lead her back inside. Her body shook when she came in contact with the warmer air. She felt her legs failing her as she slid into the antique embroidered chair whispering, "I just need a minute."

John's voice was gentle as he said, "Easy."

"Maybe some pain medicine too," she gasped softly. Everything hurt - her joints, her muscles, her head.

He brushed his fingers along her jaw. "You sit right there. I'm going to go call the doctor–"

" –no, don't call the doctor," she said quickly. She reached for him, but her hand dropped weakly almost immediately. She didn't even have the energy to lift it.

He knelt before her, staring into her eyes. "We are paying him to be on call whenever you need him, honey–"

" –I don't!" she said more harshly than she intended. "I don't. I don't... I don't need him. I just need a few moments. That's all." But she knew she was lying. She didn't want the doctor because she was dying. She didn't want medical intervention, and she didn't want a stranger beside her when she died.

Isabella's eyes darted away, and he could tell. Her body shook, and she glanced back up at him with a short gasp. She had to be in excruciating pain. Cupping her face in his hands, he whispered urgently, "I want you to be on a level with me. I don't want to worry that you're holding out on me because you're trying to protect me, okay?"

Isabella gasped again softly. Her muscles jerked. The pain was almost overwhelming. "It's too late for that," she whispered. Tears filled her eyes. She was going to die. "I can't– I can't protect you."

"We're in this together," he said softly, holding her small hand in his.

She nodded her head to agree with him, and she felt as if the room were spinning.

"You're not alone. I'm not leaving your side." Something told him that night was the night she would go.

"I feel like– I feel like I'm slipping away," she whispered. He wanted the truth, and she felt she owed him that. "Just a little bit at a time. The–the pains getting stronger, and I'm just getting weaker."

He'd asked for her honesty, and she'd given it to him. The tears spilled over, and he reached out, slowly stroking her hair. Leaning forward he kissed her forehead, hearing her soft whimper.

"I'm just so glad that I got to come here... while I was strong enough," she said. "I wanted to show Brady everything."

His heart was breaking. His hand trembled as he touched his wife's face, and he barely heard the bedroom door open softly behind him. Marlena. She'd been getting Brady ready for bed. He turned to look at her just as another tear slid down his cheek, and he knew the exact moment Marlena realized what was happening. Isabella tried to reach for Brady, but her hand fell back into her lap.