The air in the room is heavy with waiting, and warm with anticipation. The bed is covered by a colorful, fluffy quilt, pulled up smoothly over the pillows. The starched white lace lampshade and porcelain lamp on the bedside table are free of dust and cobwebs. In the doorway of the closet is a pair of fleecy blue slippers, beckoning to tired, chilly feet.

Under the window is a large, plush easy-chair, and next to it a small table with several hard-bound novels. The white frilly curtains are drawn back to the sides, to let in the afternoon sunlight. A pale blue laundry basket is neatly hidden between the chair and the rosewood dresser. A small, cut-glass jar on the dresser holds a cinnamon potpourri sachet, filling the air with a spicy memory of grandmother’s kitchen.

Into this peaceful habitat walked Anna Levin, hands shaking, heart pounding, mind reeling. Full of nervous energy, she stood in the center of the room looking around for several minutes. Then habit kicked in, and she hung up her fawn colored trench coat, tossed her black pumps in the closet, and jammed her nylon-clad feet into her slippers. All at once the weight of the day’s events fell upon her shoulders, and Anna sank into the chair, her arms hanging limply over the sides. Her eyes, normally a brilliant, energetic blue, now seemed a dull, tired gray as she gazed around her room.

"I should call James," she said, but somehow she lacked the energy to walk over to the little phone on the nightstand. The other side of the bed seemed very distant. Feeling guilty about her slouched posture, Anna started to sit up straighter in her chair, but stopped. "What good would it do," she muttered. "I’ve always done the right thing, and where has it gotten me?" she asked bitterly. But the room didn’t have an answer. With a frustrated sigh, Anna stood and walked slowly around the bed to sit near the phone. She held the light-weight gray cordless in her palm for a few minutes, trying to think of what to say, before she dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hello, James," Anna said, trying to sound normal.

"Hey Sunshine, when did you get home?" James’ voice was warm and cheerful, masking his concern.

"I just did. They kept me there for hours."

"I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you, honey," he said softly. "Did the results come back yet?"

"Doctor Whipple wouldn’t let me leave until they did. It’s not good, James," Anna said, keeping her voice steady.

"What is it?"

"Uterine cancer, he said. Oh god, what am I going to do?" She began to cry, quietly, big wet drops sliding slowly down her fair cheeks.

"I’m coming over," James said in a pained voice. "Give me twenty minutes."

"All right." Anna put the phone back on the table and walked over to the mirror. She wiped the tears away and stood looking at herself critically. Her reflection stared back at her, mockingly. She looked like the picture of perfect health, with a trim body, shiny brown hair, well-kept nails, and blemish-free skin. People like me don’t get sick, she thought.

She was curled up in the chair under the window, trying to make herself as small as possible in the big empty room, when James walked in. He knelt in front of her, his hands resting on her legs, and looked into her frightened eyes. "Talk to me, love," he whispered.

"I have a couple of weeks to decide," she said. "Two weeks to choose between work or kids."

"What do you mean?" James took her icy hands in his own and rubbed them while he spoke.

"The treatments. I could do chemotherapy for months on end, and give up the partnership at the firm, or I could have a hysterectomy, be back in court in a few weeks, and give up all hope of ever having children. I don’t know what to do, James." She looked at him helplessly, but his eyes were so full of pain and worry that she had to look away.

"I’m here for you, Anna. No matter what you decide, my feelings won’t change. Have yours?" he asked hesitantly.

"Heavens no, I need you more than ever now." Her hands clenched his, his thumb automatically sliding back and forth over the smooth gold band on her left hand. "I still want to marry you."

"I love you," he said then, brushing her cold hands with his lips.

Taking a deep breath, Anna sat back to think. The light scent of cinnamon coaxed memories of her childhood from the back of her mind. She remembered rainy Sunday afternoons at Grandma Burke’s house, baking apple pies, the sweet, spicy aroma filling the whole house. Even her memories took on a new, painful perspective. I may never have grandchildren. Hell, I might not even live that long. Tears once again began to flow down her pale cheeks. James pulled her close to him and held her tightly, her body wracked with sobs as all the penned up stresses and fears of the past few weeks overflowed. The room, usually so bright, now seemed cold and impersonal.

"Let’s get you out of here," he said, his warm voice shaking with emotion. Anna was silent, letting him pick her up and carry her out to his car. Tenderly, he laid her in the front seat, buckled her safety belt, and drove her away from that unfriendly room without looking back.