The children weren't introduced until it was actually time for dinner. A very nice, somewhat older, maid came into the living room to let them know dinner was ready."Thank you Margret," smiled Antonia.They all rose and went into the dining room. The children entered a minute later."Ken, Jane, these are our children, Little Angelo and Camilla," smiled Antonia."Everyone calls me Joey," said the boy, who looked like he was eleven or twelve. He was a smaller version of his father and had a good, solid handshake."It's nice to meet you Joe," said Ken."Hi," said the girl, as she shook his hand.She was a very attractive young woman, but her attitude screamed well ... attitude. However, the instant that they touched, Ken was flooded with all kinds of information.Camilla had just turned fifteen and was one extremely frustrated young woman. Her father kept a close watch on her, and she hadn't even been allowed to date yet -- not that anyone was brave enough to ask her.She stood just under five. We would then move to Florida to start a family. But then the bruises came. Only small ones along my spine at first, but as the weeks went on they got bigger and bigger and doubling in number. When I finally agreed to go and see a doctor, my worst nightmare was confirmed. Leukemia. Aggressive, advanced and nearly incurable. I wanted to kill them for butting in the nearly. For letting us hope. John stayed by my side through all of it. He never failed to be there for my therapy, and was always on the phone to people, who were talking about all kinds of cures. But I was growing weaker and weaker, getting thinner and thinner, feeling more dead than ever. But what John just came home to tell me is, that I have stopped responding to my treatment. I’m going to die. ”I’m sorry, Baby,” John says. He put his head in his hands and sits on the end of the bed by my feet. I come up behind him, wrapping my arms round his neck, just breathing him in, because he makes me feel so alive. He sighs.
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