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"I'm a little less angry."

"Listen, Faye, if you were any less angry, you'd be in Nirvana." After the mix-up at the restaurant, our special celebration of Faye's qualification for the Iditarod had almost needed a rain-check. I couldn't displace most of the blame; I was too distracted by what I was about to do. I took the package from her hands and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Don't be afraid to tell me I'm in the doghouse."

"Oh no! No! They'll spoil you just as much as you spoil them!" She gave me a half-serious, half-joking glare. "I'll take that shower, you turn on the air conditioner and close the windows and doors, and if I come out of the bedroom with your pillow and a blanket, you know where to go, right?" I glanced at the couch. "Good boy."

Her joking gave me a wellspring of confidence that she would be empty-handed when she came back out, but I felt a little bad for the mix-up. "I'll make you dinner and --"

"Conor. Sun. Hot. Air conditioner. Stove bad. Oven bad."

"Pizza yes then, no?"

"Plain cheese, light sauce."

"Our usual. Go, take a shower; I figured you'd want to so I put something out for you to wear. Light, but tasteful." I smiled as I set the package down on the kitchen counter. "Thanks for getting this for me."

"You do it all day, I figured I'd give you a rest -- which it seems you need -- and blow off some steam -- something I definitely needed," she tossed her hair in the way she usually does when trying to shake off tension. "Half of it -- more than half of it is not your fault. Really, why can't people smarten up? It's a heat wave for heaven's sake!" She huffed. "Bring in the dogs. I know they're cool, in the shade, they have water, but bring them in."

"Okay."

"And close the cellar door too," she added, turning to go into the bedroom. "I love you."

"I love you too," I said, brushing her cheek with my hand before I turned to the task of closing the house up and bringing the dogs in. "And so far, you've worked miracles with the dogs that have come through."

"If only I can work on the brains of some humans," her muffled lamentation replied through the bedroom door.

I felt a twinge of guilt as I came back from my rounds of closing the doors and starting the air conditioner. On the phone with the pizzeria, I opened the door and quickly ushered the dogs inside. It was a rare treat for them, to be sure, but none of them looked too happy. And there's where the guilt came from. All this heat, and I had them dressed in ridiculous black and white tee-shirts with fake bow-ties just under their collars. "I'm sorry," I whispered after finishing the order. "Just a few more minutes, and we'll get rid of those. And you can stay inside even."

I opened the hall closet and looked at the large suit bag inside, not relishing my own upcoming discomfort. Unzipping the front, I began hastily changing. I only had the shoes left to put on when I heard the shower turn back off. I snatched the package off of the kitchen counter where I had left it, and searched the bottom of the suit bag for the last item I needed. One eye on the bedroom door, I quickly opened the package, verified its contents, and added my own personal touch. I shut the closet with my street clothes rolled up on the floor, slipped the shoes on, and began guiding the dogs into position.

All ten sat down, five to one side of me, five to the other, and I got to one knee between them to tie my shoes. I breathed a sigh of relief, tying one shoe and switching knees to tie the other. It was the perfect position, tying a shoe, and I'm sure many men have used it to their advantage as well for something like this. The doorknob turned just as I finished, and the door swung open to reveal Faye in one of her favorite summer dresses. She looked at the scene before her, and immediately slammed the door shut again.

Actually, that was pretty much the effect I was going for.

"The dogs are in tuxedoes, Conor," she said from the other side of the door.

"They're not the only ones."

"You must be insane. Do you know how hot it is?"

"Thankfully I already have the AC going. I'd be absolutely cooking without it." I tapped a finger on the box in my hands. "Sweetie, are you staying in there?"

The door crept open, a lot slower this time. "Who... made those?"

"Mary," I said, referring to my sister. I lifted my hands, presenting the box to her as she took another cautious step forward. "And speaking of marry. Faye Eklund," I said, smiling as her hand jumped to her throat, "will you marry me?"

"Santa! I want a puppy!"

I turned to see why Faye had all of a sudden made that outburst. Kelly DeSilva, the head nurse walked into the room still wearing her thick, red winter coat and, yes, matching hat. She gave a wide grin and glanced at me. "Spirit's good to have, no matter what state you're in. They're all okay out there, Conor. A little glum, but..."

She trailed off, perhaps cursing herself for inadvertently dampening spirits. I smiled and replied, "Good to hear. Thanks for getting all of that for them."

"You are an angel, Kel," Faye breathed. "They thank you for it. Doctor said they'll be put inside for the storm. When is it hitting? I'm not seeing that on the news."

"They're estimating around eight tonight for this county," I offered.

"Stopping all the traffic?"

"By the governor's advisory, and every single meteorologist along the east coast, we're being told to hunker down. If it's like the '93 storm it's not going to be the worst we've seen." I shrugged. "Especially you or me."

She grinned. "Nothing beats Alaska in March."

"Alaska in January."

"No, there's nothing fun to do in January."

"I'm sure there is; that is just your very objective opinion." I smiled back. "Don't worry about the storm. The dogs will be brought in, even if they don't like it."

"I just hope I can make it through," she said, her eyes dropping to her hands. "After all the 'this is it' moments, I think this is it. And... after all that, signing the card..."

Kelly took that moment to speak up. "I can't say much without breaking patient privacy, but you have possible recipients here."

Even though both Doctor Lenard and Kelly had been with us from the beginning, neither could still understand the look that came over Faye's face. I did. "Honey, what?"

"No one's getting my heart," she mumbled. I noticed Kelly straighten. "I think someone would have, if the storm..."

I looked at Kelly again, reading her eyes. I patted Faye on the arm. "One minute, babe." I gestured to Kelly and we stepped outside the room. I raised my eyebrows, all the prompting she needed.

"I was talking to Doctor Lenard about it at the desk," she said, pointing to the nurse's desk several paces down the hall. "Your wife's got to have a hyperbolic dish installed in her ears if she heard us talking. Suffice it to say, the storm will prevent us from delivering her heart if, if... well..."

"Kel, we've had enough of these to have made our peace with it. One day the cancer is going to come out on top." I turned and took a step back into the room. "Tonight is just another night for a mindless, killer disease. She might just be guessing things from answers to some well-worded questions though. All doctors, of humans or animals, know the tricks."

"Be that as it may, she's pretty certain now," Kelly said. "And my skills at lying are, well, blessedly underdeveloped."

I nodded as I sat back down in the chair next to her bed. "Honey, we don't know what's happening afterwards, and really, should you be thinking about this?"

The glare I got just poured guilt into my body. "Come on, at this point?" she snapped. She sighed immediately after and placed her hand on mine. "I know, I should be thinking about fighting it, but everything's telling me I've used up all my lives. With my luck, it will happen tonight, and I know someone needs this," she said, moving my hand over her heart. I was not at all surprised with what she asked then: "What should you do with the greatest gift, Conor?"

"The bride and groom have chosen to give their own vows," the minister said, smiling at us. "Conor, you may begin."

I took a deep breath and looked into Faye's eyes. Before us sat a pair of exquisitely carved candles, the contents of the package she picked up for me all those months ago when I proposed to her. Unlit, they stood mostly as decoration, neither of us daring to ruin their beauty. There was a slight mark on one, where I had slipped the engagement ring over it just before she had finished changing. We had decided to mix colored sand; much like my brother and sister had both done at each of their weddings. Writing our own vows, though, was uniquely ours.

"I, Conor Whelan, take you, Faye Eklund, to be my wife. These vows are tradition, because they hold true. I swear my heart, my soul to you in a new journey, as one before God. Through better, through worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health I am not merely by your side. I am tied by bonds unbreakable to the light everlasting in your soul. It is my promise, to persevere through those times of sorrow, want, or pain. It is my vow, you are never alone. Before this day, already you have given me the gift of your spirit; you have left a spark of that light in my heart. This promise I give: to nurture what I have been given, and to share my own light with you. From this day forward, till death do us part."

She smiled when I finished, and looked to the minister, who nodded. "I, Faye Eklund, take you, Conor Whelan, to be my husband to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I swear to you my life as you swear yours to me, to be as one and each draw from the other strength, wisdom, and serenity. To give my heart, my deepest love to you, that we may both in our unity and yet in our own ways give to others the great joy we have in each other. For our gifts to each other are the greatest gifts. And the greatest gifts are to be shared, that our spirit, made greater with our love, touches everyone. I swear this, and ask this, as long as we both shall live."

"How could she possibly know?" Doctor Lenard said. We stood at the nurse's desk, bent over the counter in hushed whispers. "She's playing guessing games, and unfortunately she's probably managed to piece things together off of all our reactions." He turned to me. "I'll level with you, Conor. It was obvious we'd identify a likely candidate on the donor list, especially for something as important as the heart, but if she can't fight through the storm, well..."

"I get where you're going. The storm will keep transport grounded... or in the garage." I sighed. "If the worst happens, we've been ready for it, but some other family..." I gazed down the empty hallway and hung my head. Then I looked up again. It was a very empty hallway, and I started to recall the renovations that had been going on the last time we had been in for treatment. "Doctor, the furnishings, the plants and pictures and everything... where are they?"

"We just re-opened this section. The workers were off this week, but putting all that stuff back into the hallway wasn't top priority."

I lifted my head, and spoke in a louder voice, though still low and soft. "A shave and a haircut..."

From the room came an impish giggle, and the reply, "Two bits."

The doctor's eyes widened and he thumped his head on the desk. "Noise cancelling," he groaned. "The hall's a big echo chamber without anything even on the walls. The little minx."

"What's with people comparing my wife to members of the weasel family?"

It was a February wedding so that we could have a very special March honeymoon. Not that we were together much after the first couple of days. I didn't mind, though, on day eight of the race. Standing by the Burled Arch monument, I saw a familiar face mush past the finish line, a row of perfect teeth grinning from behind a thick black beard. Above the cheers, Stanimir Alkaev called to me in his thick accent, "Conor! Ha! I knew my gift would be special!" Seeing my confused look, the surprisingly slight Russian man beckoned me closer and then jabbed a thumb behind him. "My gift, drook! All six of them! See for yourself in a few more minutes! The sly little fox nearly slipped by me!"

I had to keep from laughing at the several looks cast his way with the word he called me. It took Faye's assurance that drook meant friend or buddy in Russian. Turning my attention to the track behind him, I soon understood what he meant. Neck-to-neck with a local musher, I saw Faye speeding down the last stretch, Odin and Freyja staring straight at me with a singular determination. My eyes went wide, realizing that on her first time, she was up for either second or third place. I'm sure I was still breathing, since I saw puffs of vapor escape my lips in the cold air. Was I breathing normally? No.

If anyone goes up to Nome, Alaska and sees four odd gouges in the Burled Arch's post, those would be from my fingernails. The pair of sleds paced each other for most of the fifty yard heat down Front Street, but as they drew closer, it seemed for a minute that the other musher gained the lead. Then it was Faye in front, and then the other. I became certain they were doing it on purpose to torment me. Mere feet from the finish line, Thor and Tyr noticed me standing nearby, and the pair nearly threw Faye off the sled with their final burst, and nearly toppled the entire line in front of them to get there. By two feet, Faye had taken second place.

It was pandemonium already at the finish line; Stanimir was absolutely swamped by friends and reporters. The jovial Russian, now a veteran of the trail, had moved to Alaska and been sworn in as an American citizen when an opportunity for running dog sled tours came up. He still fondly remembered Faye from her first trip, and he and his wife had been so thrilled at her entry and our wedding they had offered to let us stay at a cabin they owned near Nome. No matter how politely you try, you couldn't refuse the Alkaev family, and so we were headed there the instant we could get away from the crowds, and staying until the banquet on Sunday. The challenge of course was getting away from the crowds.

Getting in to see my new wife was a bit of a challenge too, as reporters elbowed out of the crush around Stanimir were starting to drift to what some realized may be a bigger story, the first-timer in second place. The instant she saw me trying to nudge through the throng, she reached her hand out and latched onto my arm. Her companion for the final stretch had removed his hat, ran his fingers through his hair in excitement, grinned at us and whispered, "I'll keep them off for a second. Great push at the end, Rookie!"

She beamed back and turned to peck me on the cheek, and then give me a little more than just a peck on the lips. "Didn't have to move a scarf this time."

"How much of that do you really think was from the cold?" I said. "You called me on it a few times already."

"Glad to see less barriers," she said. "You're the most excellent husband in the world, Conor. No exaggerations." She glanced at Stanimir, whose wife was herself finally able to elbow into the crowd, being more careful with the pair of toddlers in tow. "I can't believe I might end up racing you in this one day."

"You sure that's allowed?" She shrugged, and I continued, "I know it's not a good idea. We'll come in dead last, you know. Always taking it slow because we want the other to win. Come on, how do all our game nights end?"

"If it's Risk? I believe I end those with my patented Armageddon move." This refers to the point, about two hours into the game where she would get tired, grab both sides of the board, and shake it around until all the pieces were on the floor. Armageddon. She glanced back at the Alkaevs. "How long do you think before... you know?"

I looked in the direction of her gaze, smiled as I watched the two children clinging to their father's legs. I would have answered, but the graceful young man who had promised to perform a little subtle crowd control had used up every distraction in his arsenal and the congratulations and questions and requests for photos put an end to the conversation. Temporarily.

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