“Breathe . . . breathe,” her friend urged, as she knelt alongside her chair, rubbing and patting her back. “Come on . . . deep breaths. You can do it. Get some air into your lungs . . . there you go . . . you’ll be all right.”
Upon hearing that he was planning to marry the woman with the dark heart — and the betrothal had been publicly announced — she had been unable to catch her breath. Her eyes filled with tears, she was rendered mute, and she thought she would suffocate. Her friend immediately came to her aid, soothing and consoling her as she struggled to maintain her composure and avoid the stares of the cafe’s other patrons.
The ringing telephone startled her awake. She sat straight up on the couch, disoriented. The telephone was on the coffee table directly in front of her with a hand-written note taped to it: “Make an appointment with the doctor. I’ll call later and check up on you. Love, Me.”
The sun was just setting when they arrived at the nearly empty restaurant. He turned to her and asked, “Would you like to take a walk on the beach before we have dinner?”
“You know that I want to see you tonight,” she reassured Dennis, “but I just don’t feel up to going out. I think I’m coming down with that flu bug that has been making the rounds. I’m really tired, kind of achy all over, and my stomach has been doing somersaults for a couple of days. I’m just going to stay here in my nice, warm bed and try to sleep it off.”
“Thanks for coming to my party!” her friend blurted out before she could even say hello. “Not! You’d better have a good excuse! My friend, Dennis, was very disappointed that he didn’t get to meet you. So spill! Where were you? What did you do? With whom?”