We had both stopped talking. I knew I should avert my eyes, but I didn’t want to. I studied him and knew he was studying me. What was he made of? Wh...t did he think I was made of? ‘Your lips are wonderful to watch.’ I heard him say it, but it faded because I was busy contemplating the next step when he leaned in to touch his lips to mine. My vision blurred with his closeness, and then despite the agitated swirling of the river, all I heard was my pulse drumming rhythmically in my ears. I. He faced his fate bravely, but with great regret.He lived for three months after the diagnosis, Eleanor beside him for almost every waking moment. When he died, he had been sleeping in her arms late one winter afternoon. His brother Harold and sister-in-law Rosalind were in the house at the time.The funeral was held in the United Church near Bowness, and he was buried in the Bowness Cemetery on a cold, windswept January day. More than fifty people attended the services, including his mother,. More

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