*10*

Bob grabbed the luggage from the trunk, careful, he thought to himself. His chest still hurt. He sighed. Lord, give me the strength and guidance to heal myself. He sighed again. He picked up the luggage again and followed Denise through the motel lobby. Well, exercise is beneficial at any rate. They took the elevator up to the second floor. Bob set the luggage down on the unfolding rack in the closet and sat down on the bed.

"Phew," Bob said. "I need to rest for a bit." Bob swung around and lay down on the bed.
"Too much driving?", asked Denise.

Well, Bob thought to himself, now's probably as good a time as any to bring up the subject. Maybe not. Why spoil the start of a vacation by dropping a bomb.

"Yeah," Bob replied.

Bob closed his eyes and relaxed. Lord please help me heal myself. He mentally reached to his heart, turning it, examining it, checking the vessels as it pumped. This one needs some help, we need to reroute and grow some more circulation here. It would be a long and slow process. Possibly even several months. One step at a time.

Later that day, Bob changed his mind. He would tell Denise at the first opportunity. Not out of the blue, but when appropriate. Casually, if that were possible. Honey, I think I've had a heart attack. My doctor says I'm okay, so don't worry about it. If he was lucky, she might take the news somewhat like opening the refrigerator, looking on the bottom shelf and finding a plastic tub of mold ... shocking at first, but then you just dump it in the trash and carry on.

They went for a walk. Denise had always been in good shape. Bob had been too, but now he struggled to keep up with her and lagged behind. Might as well come clean. He stopped, stood still for a minute, breathing a little heavily. Denise walked ahead, turned, looked back at Bob, tilted her head slightly and paused, half-knowing but curious. Whatever he is hiding, it serves him right, and walked back to Bob.

"You okay?" she asked.
"No," Bob said, getting up the courage. "My chest has been bothering me a bit lately."

Denise had no reaction at all. Bob couldn't tell if she was shocked, torn between mixed feelings, or just hadn't heard him. He repeated himself, "my chest has been aching a bit lately, this past week, actually. I think I'm okay though. I saw a doctor Friday and he didn't find anything wrong."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he was toast. His insult wasn't the admission of a problem - it was more his acts of having hidden a serious problem from her. Denise pulled back half the hooks in his soul.

*11*

Uncle Donald, jovial and wise, had grown slightly overweight, but still ate like a gourmet (and took pills to lower his cholesterol). He used to run his own small business; although now retired, he still harbored opinions back from his entrepreneurial days. Aunt Nancy, a retired schoolteacher, had an artistic bent. Slender now, she battled the frailty that had struck with her age. They were high powered folks, too. Into art, culture and politics. Uncle Donald always with a joke or an opinion. Aunt Nancy the family matriarch.

Bob felt a little weird visiting them. Nothing was odd with Uncle Donald, Aunt Nancy, or where they lived. Mostly he was spooked by the time connection: Uncle Donald and Aunt Nancy had lived here so long that Bob had memories of this house stretching back to his childhood. He had spiritual connections to the tchotchkas that they had collected. Odd little things. An ancient mandolin on a bookshelf, gathering dust. Four multi-colored plastic blocks: a mental puzzle game. Some wooden duck decoys. Little oddities that their kids had left in the house. A small picture that his cousin Jack had pasted high up on a doorjamb. Dusty books, books devoid of any market value, but of spiritual significance. A high-school yearbook. Once favorite toys.

"How ya doin?" Donald greeted him with a handshake and a grab of the shoulder as he entered.
"Fine," Bob lied.

"Where's Denise?" Uncle Donald inquired.
"Oh, she had lunch planned with a couple of her girlfriends," Bob replied.
"Oh, I'm sorry she couldn't make it," Uncle Donald said, being a gentleman. "Well come on in, make yourself comfortable. Bill and Connie should be here in a little bit, Jack's out in the back."

Bob walked toward the kitchen to put the Martinelli's he had brought into the refrigerator.

"Oh, hi Bob," his Aunt Nancy said, as she washed vegetables over the kitchen sink.

"Howdy," Bob set the Martinelli's on the counter, leaned over and kissed his aunt on the cheek. "How's your back?"
"Oh, it has it's ups and downs," his aunt replied. She placed some broccoli on the counter, grabbed another branch and sliced off the stems.

Bob removed the Martinelli's from the bag, folded the bag and put the bottle in the refrigerator.

"So how have you been?" his aunt inquired. Aunt Nancy sucked the physical condition from Bob's brain, a remote psychic checkup, and felt concerned about his chest pains and his lack of hooks from Denise.

"Oh, okay I guess," Bob replied. They briefly stood silent as Bob probed into the Aunt-and-Uncle situation, and Aunt Nancy examined the Bob-and-Denise situation.

Uncle Donald walked into the kitchen, cuffing Bob on the back, "So, how's work?" he asked. Uncle Donald received the packet of insight from Aunt Nancy.

Dinner passed uneventful, with the usual family stories. Jack had his unfailing adventures, spectacular places he had visited. Camping at Yellowstone. Traveling in New York. Uncle Donald had his customary jokes from his tennis buddies. They discussed acquaintances, problems people were having, Aunt Rose has some serious medical problems, she'll be in the hospital for a while. Bill thought someone else that he knew had a mother with a similar problem. When she had sought a second opinion, the doctor recommended a more holistic approach with a change of diet and herbs.

Uncle Donald told a cannibal joke; although Bob had heard it before it was still funny, so he laughed politely. Jack talked about a trip in planning -- he thought he might visit an acquaintance in Italy to see the sights.

Eventually it was time to leave. Bob gathered some plastic containers of leftovers and said his good-byes. On the way out the door, Uncle Donald turned to Bob and put his hand on his shoulder. "Hey, if you ever need anything, just ask." Bob looked into Uncle Donald's brain. It had been an invitation, something Uncle Donald understood innately about Bob - a key passed from the future. Bob didn't say anything, he just swallowed and nodded.