And whether this had anything to do with the papers I HADN’T seen in that folder.
“Just practical things.”
“You don’t have to think about that today,” I said.
“I do.” His voice became strangely urgent. “I need everything signed tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be thinking clearly.”
I searched his face.
For the first time in twenty years, I wasn’t looking at the boy who carried my backpack.
“I need everything signed tomorrow.”
I was looking at a man who needed my signature more than he needed my love.
“I’ll bring everything tomorrow,” I whispered.
His shoulders relaxed.
“Thank you.”
***
That evening the hospital administrator called me.
“We found something.”
A man who needed my signature
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“We ran a financial disclosure after opening the investigation.”
“And?”
“Your husband is carrying debts well into six figures.”
I closed my eyes.
My stomach tightened.
“Gambling?”
“We don’t know. Loans. Credit. Judgments. But one thing is clear.”
“What?”
“He wasn’t trying to marry you because he was dying.”
Silence settled between us.
“He was trying to use you. I’d double check your bank accounts and any money he can access as your husband.”
“He was trying to use you.”
I walked into Ben’s hospital room the next morning holding a folder of papers, just like he’d asked.
But I wasn’t alone.
The hospital administrator stepped in behind me.
Two attorneys and a quiet officer from the state medical board followed her.
Ben’s face went pale.
But I wasn’t alone.
“Sweetheart, what is this?”
I set the folder on his tray table and slid it toward him.
“Open it.”
He didn’t move.
So I opened it myself.
Photos of his lab results.
“Sweetheart, what is this?”
“You want to explain any of this, Ben? Or should I?”
The doctor tried to slip out the door, but the officer blocked him gently.
“Dr. Klein,” the hospital administrator said, “you and I have a great deal to discuss.”
Ben sat up straighter than he had in weeks.
The frail, dying groom vanished right in front of me.
“You went through my things?”
“You want to explain any of this, Ben?”
“Some, but now I’m going to look at the rest.”
I reached under the mattress and pulled out the folder.
I opened it to the pages I’d never had time to read.
A one-way plane ticket, departing three days from now.
Only one passenger.
Ben.
I opened it to the pages I’d never had time to read.
Beneath it sat a stack of documents regarding my trust.
Yellow tabs marked every place I was supposed to sign.
A letter from a debt collection attorney listed a total I could barely comprehend.
