She had come into his life one May; it was May once again. He gazed down and forced a smile onto his lips.

“It is sunny today?” Her voice though barely a whisper still held its lilt.

“Yes, sunny and warm.”

“The spring flowers? Are there spring flowers?”

“The early ones are blooming.”

Her smile was genuine. “Adam.” Her hand rose slightly from the bedclothes as if to reach toward him before it fell back into the blankets.

“Yes, love.”

“Take me to the creek.”

He shook his head as much to keep the tears from his eyes as to reject the idea. “I can’t. Why Doc Martin would have my head if I took you away from this bed.”

“He’s done all he can, Adam.” There was a gentle chiding in her words. “We both know it isn’t in his hands any longer.”

“Still, I . . .I can’t. . .”

“Grant me one last wish?” She coughed then, and the effort took her breath away for far too many minutes. He took her hand and held it to his chest.

“Jessica, I…”

“Please.” Only enough air for the one syllable.

He tried once more to deter her. “You’re hardly dressed for an outing, Jessie mine.”

Her gaze held him. “That scarcely matters now.”

He drew in a deep breath as another cough racked her body. He had never been able to deny her. “All right.” He tucked the quilt around her wasted body and slipped his arms behind her back and beneath her knees. It was far too easy to lift her, to carry her through the door and down the steps.

“Adam!” It was Hoss’s voice that rang out as they stepped from the stairs. His brother took several steps toward them before a fierce shake of Adam’s head stop him. Ben was beside Hoss in moments, and his hand on his son’s arm locked Hoss in place.

Adam’s stride never hesitated. “The door,” muttered as he passed Joe.

Little Joe slipped ahead and opened the door to the porch. Adam strode through. Ben and Hoss came to Joe’s side and watched as Adam carried her across the yard and into the woods.

When he came to the glade with its babbling brook, he lowered himself to the ground. Leaning against a tree, he held her in his lap as she nestled her head into his shoulder.

“That’s better.” He heard the joy in the words and allowed the tears to slip down his cheeks. “You kissed me here.” Her hand had found his though her touch was little more than that of a butterfly.

“There’s hundreds of places on the Ponderosa where I’ve kissed you.” No sobs broke his voice, but the tears still spilled from his eyes.

“Here first.” His hand came to her cheek and cradled it. “First and last?” The words held both pleading and acceptance.

He managed to focus on her face as his thumb stroked her cheek. “Yes, first and last.” He raised her in his arms and covered her lips with his. When he lowered her once again, he saw her smile. For the final time she smiled for him alone, and then she left.