Faith’s scarf-covered head lay propped against several down pillows. A slight breeze jiggled the crystals on the chandelier sending tiny prisms of light across her duvet. Even though she’d protested, she was glad Mary had insisted on converting the unused dining room into her bedroom.

The cabinet holding the fine china disappeared into a spare bedroom to make space for the hospital bed. A much smaller table replaced the dining room table and chairs. Another tall, narrow cabinet housed rows of pill bottles, morphine needles, sterile wipes, lotions, and antiseptic cleaners. Annie’s throne, a tall metal stool, sat beside the bed so she could be close to her mom when they wanted to spend some time together. Mary’s favorite rocker occupied another corner with a basket of colorful skeins of yarn and a half-finished afghan. This room was the heart of the home.

Today, Faith’s eyes were weary, and her breath labored. The night had not been kind. Dr. Copeland warned her that she would face a roller coaster ride with good days and bad ones. She never complained because she knew each day meant one more day with her daughter, Annie, and sweet precious Mary.

Five years ago, the church asked Mary to consider caring for a young cancer patient, a mother with a three-year-old daughter. Her husband had died in Afghanistan. 

In the beginning, she'd gone every day to their apartment, but as the disease progressed, as did their friendship, the Cranstons moved Faith, Annie, and Mary to the cottage.  Caring for both of them provided Mary with the closest thing to family she'd ever really known. It was a win-win situation for all of them. She was Nana in little Annie's eyes.

Faith’s voice was a mere whisper. “Mary, could I have a sip of water, please? I can’t seem to reach it.”

Mary glanced out the window, checking to see where Annie and her pup, Sebastian, were and then hurried to Faith’s bedside. “Of course, you can, sweetheart.” 

She gently slid her arm behind Faith’s thin body and lifted her forward, pressing the glass to Faith’s lips. “Take small sips, so you don’t choke.” She paused and then let her sip again. “That’s good, very good.”

Easing her back down on the hospital bed, she smiled at her patient. “How are you feeling today? Would you like to get a little sunshine?” She fluffed a pillow and exchanged it with one under Faith’s head.

"No, I don't think so. I am so tired." She closed her eyes. Mary moved back to the window, thinking Faith had fallen asleep.

"Is she okay?" Faith's voice sounded worried.

Lost in thought, Mary jumped at the sound of Faith’s voice. "What? Oh, yes, she's having a ball with Sebastian."

"I'm glad you thought of buying her the puppy." Pausing to gain strength to speak again, Faith took a shallow breath, "She'll need the comfort soon."

"Don't talk like that. You aren't going anywhere." Mary's eyes filled with tears. "You can't." She couldn't finish her thought and turned back to the window.

"It's okay, you know." A raspy cough escaped Faith’s lips, and Mary rushed to her side, lifting her, so breathing was a little easier. After a few minutes, Faith continued, "I know you will take good care of Annie when I am gone."

"Stop it! Don't be silly! She needs you. You're her mother." She couldn't hide the tears any longer as they streamed down her face. She loved Faith like her own daughter.

"Did I tell you how much your promise means to me?" She stretched her arm to clasp Mary’s hand in her own skeletal one. Holding hands, she struggled for air before continuing, "I was afraid Annie would end up in an orphanage without anyone to love her. Thanks to you...." Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes.

"Faith, why don't you rest now? Don't worry yourself with nonsense." Mary struggled with the thought of losing Faith. She was the same age as her daughter would have been if she'd been allowed to keep her. She often wondered what kind of life she'd had. Her heart still ached for both of them; one adopted and the other an angel.

Three months ago, after being told the end was near, Faith had asked Mary if she would become Annie's legal guardian. After hours of crying tears of joy, they'd met with a lawyer, and he’d drawn up the necessary papers.

"I love you, Mary."

The sentiment snapped Mary back to reality. She smiled and adjusted the scarf on Faith's head.

 "I know. I love you, too."

She watched as Faith struggled to breathe; each breath was shallower than the next. "Why don't I have Annie give you a kiss, and then you can get some rest."

She nodded her head as they locked their eyes together. Both of them knew the time was near, but neither was quite ready to accept it. Mary kissed Faith’s forehead, "You've made my life beautiful. God sent me a wonderful gift with you and Annie."

"Us, too." A tear trickled down Faith’s sunken cheek.

"I'll get Annie." Wiping the tears away, Mary took a deep breath and went to call Annie.

Faith's spirits lifted as she listened to her precocious child describe the antics of her new puppy. Annie crawled into bed with her, snuggling against her. They shared kisses and smiles before the little girl drifted off to sleep.

"I'll put her in her bed. You should get some sleep too." Lifting the little girl from her mother's side, Mary carried her into the bedroom. After removing her shoes, she tucked her in and gently kissed the cherub’s face. "I love you, sweetheart." She tiptoed from the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Faith had drifted into a fitful sleep. Her raspy breath tugged at Mary’s aching heart as she adjusted the blanket around the frail, sleeping body.

The sand in the hourglass is running out, I think. Sleep, my love.

With Sebastian, a growing six-month-old German Shepherd,  at her side, Mary retreated to the front porch swing. It was time to recharge. She had never regretted her decision to stay and care for Faith and Annie. In the beginning, it was simple work - daily housekeeping, transporting Faith to the Cancer Center on her chemo days, caring for her during the “retching days” after treatment, and watching over Annie. After the last round of chemo, Faith decided to end treatment. The results were minimal, if any, and she felt she’d rather spend the remaining time being able to enjoy life with Annie.

Now, as cancer progressed, leaving would never be an option. She’d grown to love them with all her heart. They were her family. 

Mary stirred from her thoughts and gazed across the land. In the distance, she could see a cloud of dust. It was Thursday, so it wasn’t Darryl and Dr. Copeland. Other than Jack McKinley and the man who cared for the property, no one else had ever been to the cottage. 

Mary hurried inside the house. Pulling a key from her pocket, she unlocked the coat closet door. Pushing the winter coats aside, she reached into the far corner, searching until her hand felt the cold, metal barrel of a rifle. A Mossberg lever-action .22 with a 4X Herter’s scope mounted to the top. It was old but had been treated well.

She hated guns, but Ted Cranston had insisted she learn how to shoot one. Days after days, she’d aimed and fired until she could hit a dozen cans off the rail in rapid-fire fashion. Mary experimented with Ted’s shotgun, but the recoil was too much for her. Besides, she’d never had reason to use one. 

But here she was, standing on her front porch, watching a Jeep make its way toward the house. Recent heavy rain had washed out parts of the road, leaving deep ruts. It was a slow process to maneuver between trees, fence posts, and the ruts. Six weeks of obedience school had taught Sebastian well. He sat close to Mary’s side, sensing her body language. He was young, but he understood when his master felt fear. 

Sebastian’s ears were at full alert. A low grumbling rattled in his throat as Hank stepped from the Jeep. Mary’s finger tightened on the rifle’s trigger guard as she aimed the gun at the stranger.

“No need for that gun, ma’am.” He remained standing behind the Jeep door. “I’m Hank Armato, a friend of the McKinleys. Since Jack’s death, there’s been a few rumors about trouble in the area, so I thought I’d check in with you.”

“You’re from the vineyards?” Mary studied Hank’s face. She liked his warm eyes and generous smile.

“Yes, Darryl told me how to find you.” He didn’t offer how shocked Liz had been to discover their existence. “I have some boxes that belonged to the Cranstons. Liz, Mrs. McKinley, thought you might want to look through them.” By her age, Hank assumed he was talking to Mary. He didn’t see any signs of Faith and her daughter. “Is it alright if I set them on your porch?” He could see her finger move away from the trigger, and his shoulders relaxed. “Are you Mary?”

She nodded, “Yes, I am.” She lowered the rifle and leaned it against the porch railing. “Sorry about the gun.”

Hank grabbed two boxes from inside the Jeep and walked toward the porch. “No apologies needed. You’re up here by yourself. It pays to be careful.” Sebastian sniffed Hank’s pant leg, and he stuck out his hand. “Nice boy, want to sniff my hand too?”

Mary laughed. “His name’s Sebastian. He’s quite curious, but he’s a fast learner.”

Hank returned to the vehicle and got two more boxes. Sebastian trotted beside him, sniffing and checking out everything. Hank stacked the boxes next to the first two. “Would you like me to carry them inside for you?”

“No, thank you. I am sure I can get them from here.”

“I was hoping to meet Faith.” Hank glanced toward the screen door.

“Faith wasn’t feeling too well today, so she’s taking a nap with her daughter, Annie.” 

“Nothing serious, I hope.” 

“It’s cancer.” Mary watched his eyes for a reaction.

Hank wasn’t prepared for her answer, but his detective work helped him to hide his shock. He’d expected the residents of the cottage to be a happy family, not dealing with a significant health crisis. 

Mary decided she liked Hank’s gentle style. He’d been a gentleman and asked before approaching the porch, and Sebastian seemed to give his sniff of approval. “Um… it’s terminal. Faith stopped all treatments except for the chemo shot Dr. Copeland gives her every Thursday. Some days are good and others… well, we manage. It’s hardest on Annie. That’s why we got Sebastian. She needed a playmate.”

Hank grimaced and shook his head. “I am so sorry to hear about Faith. We weren’t aware of her health problems.” He stuck out his hand to Mary, and they exchanged a handshake. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

“Liz thought there were a few more boxes in storage, so if it’s alright, I’ll be back up in a day or two.” Hank hoped for a chance to meet Faith and Annie too.

“Of course. Next time, I’ll try not to greet you with the rifle.” She laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m a good shot.”

“Thanks for warning me.” Hank laughed and waved goodbye as he drove away.

That was quite a surprise, Jack. I just can’t figure out why you wouldn’t have told Liz. It’s not like you, friend. It looks like the women could use some help.