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"It's funny, okay? I know. It's weird, and it's silly, and probably completely childish." She sighed. "He warned me. Nine months in there, and all of a sudden this thing starts, just... invading me. And he can see it coming. It just feels like he... I mean in between the last ultrasound, and then when it all happened, he really seemed to be moving a lot. I thought he was just eager to get out..."

She sighed. "I'm being stupid."

"Warned you with his death?" I asked. We were sitting in the room that would have been our son's. It was empty; seven months had passed and now it was Christmas morning. We had donated the furniture and clothes and toys over the course of those seven months, the last box going to Toys for Tots. She had disappeared some time after breakfast and I found her sitting on the windowsill, holding the only picture we had of him -- the doctors had snapped a picture moments after they had handed him to us. He had enough strength left at that moment to reach out and take his mother's pinky in his hand. When I found her like this, with that picture, I sometimes wanted to hide it away to keep her from doing this to herself. I'd even go through the motions, except each time, I looked at it myself. And put it right back on the refrigerator.

She looked up at me. "Why don't we just have Christmas, huh?"

"I don't think it's silly, Faye," I said. "Sure, if you told everyone, they'd think it is. Insensitive types would laugh. You told me. I'm as close as you get to... you. It's my part to be; I made a promise. And I understand." I sat down on the windowsill next to her. "They got the tumor out, but if it comes back you're going to need to fight it. And it's nothing bad to think he saved your life.

"Did you read The Highwayman in school? Alfred Noyes?" She nodded. "I don't know; I got something out of that poem the rest of the class seemed to miss. That whole thing, where Bess warns her lover off by pulling trigger on that gun they rigged up, obviously she wanted him to escape, to live on. What's he do instead? Hears about what happened, turns right back around, and charges straight to his death. Think, the poem tells me. Don't throw away a sacrifice like that." I stood up. "I think of it, and it could be a sacrifice. Don't throw it away. If this comes back, fight."

She smiled and stood. "Where did you come from?"

"Well, you found me at a dog kennel..."

"Where's the mistletoe?"

"We need that as an excuse?" I asked, leaning in to kiss her. "Faye, we can't forget him. We will never forget him. And if he can give us the will to rise from this, we can do nothing but rise. Think of today. It’s like Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol.”

“You know that line was just a vision.”

“That vision hit home to Scrooge. Even if it never came true, the idea that such a bright spirit could fade, it was enough.” I smiled, turning to the door. I paused when she didn't move. "Faye?"

"We gave all the stuff away," she said, gazing around the empty room. "For him. And this thing, it could come back. And if it doesn't want to give up, then..."

"Don't talk like that, Faye."

"No, I mean -- Conor, we can't ignore possibilities, but... I keep putting it off." She walked up to me and put her hands on my sides. "For Heaven's sake, Conor, I just renewed my license. After all this, and I didn't do it."

I lifted my head, understanding what she meant. "Faye, then we can talk to the doctor at the next checkup," I said. "Your chance to sign a donor card doesn't only come with the license. And it doesn't mean you're going to die right after. But that's a good thing to think about." I put my hands on her shoulders. "So is the three-cheese omelet I made you that is getting cold on the counter."

She smiled. "Conor, I love you."

"I know," I said.

She batted me on the arm. "Never reply to 'I love you' by saying 'I know.' People who do that get frozen in carbonite."

"Nerd."

"Double-nerd for knowing what I was talking about."

"Is that a, 'Conor, you're getting that crazy look in your eyes,' remark that I'm missing?" Kelly was asking.

"Quickly, knock him out before he thinks anymore," Faye responded. "It's for his own good."

"What's wrong?" I said. "I'm simply thinking, if the worst should happen, maybe I could --"

"Now! A hammer! A syringe! Anything, just stop him!"

"Is he volunteering to drive your heart out himself if you -- Conor, are you nuts?"

"Patients are trying to sleep," Doctor Lenard grumbled, walking into the room. "Explain the commotion."

"I think," Kelly said, "that Conor is saying he'll drive her heart out to the patient if she dies."

"Far worse," Faye said, locking eyes with the doctor. "Kelly probably hasn't realized the full extent of his craziness, but I have. She's probably just picturing him jumping in a van and going for a merry little ride to Memorial, but that wouldn't be too bad. He'd wind up in a ditch two minutes out from here and come skulking back."

"Nashua?" I said. My heart sank deeper. "Oh, scratch that then."

"That's Southern New Hampshire Medical Center now, Conor," Doctor Lenard said. "Memorial, in North Conway. You heard every single word, young lady."

"Doctor, what mode of transportation do you think his half-baked plan is starting to form around?" Faye said, choosing to ignore the doctor's desire to scold her again for eavesdropping. "A magic carpet?"

Kelly's head snapped to me. The doctor blinked and then his eyes went wide. "Unless you have a snowmobile," I mused, "but I am better on the sled. I had the best teacher in the world. And if she is convinced it's a half-baked plan, then... well... she must not be confident in her own skills."

That pushed the button. "You... did... not... just... say that."

"Let's take a look at that codeine dosage, now," Doctor Lenard said, leaning forward. He stopped when her hand landed on his.

"You do surgery doctor?" He nodded in response to her question. "Bet you need this then, huh?" Her ire came back to me. "There might be a raging blizzard on top of us if it's tonight. Freezing temperatures, Conor. Blinding snow."

"Negative one-hundred wind chill?"

Her eyes delved deep into mine, a connection we, even as husband and wife, rarely made. The debate moved from the realm of spoken word to worlds spoken in each thought flaring to life and playing across the darkest reaches of our pupils. Four words rose in the connection, and the argument was over.

Everything I can do.

They were beautiful. Curtains, shimmering above us as we slipped like shadows into the checkpoint. The team had been sounding off to each other a while ago, but without need to make any special changes in course, they had grown silent save for random low grunts from Odin and Freyja. With two pair of extra team dogs, old friends from Faye's win five years earlier, our expedition was fourteen dogs and one human strong. That human had been white-knuckled, clutching on to the handles of the sled and looking only forward, ever forward. Now, as I glided into the silent town of Takotna, I gazed up at the northern lights, remembering our special honeymoon.

I had chosen Takotna as my mandatory 24-hour layover partly because of the airfield, which meant Faye could fly in. I also figured it was close enough to the midpoint that I had a good idea of how I was handling things and take the time to go over my plan. I had been slightly miffed at a particular musher who had breezed past me just out of Nikolai, calling back to me, "I will wait for you in Nome, drook!" It's a friendly rivalry. Really, it is.

She was waiting at the checkpoint, right as I signed in. "I was told to give you a message," she said. The rivalry threatened to meander out of the realm of friendly. "I was told to say, 'If another musher wearing a blue and white jacket asks you who that jerk of a Russian was, tell him it was a nearsighted, overconfident doofus.'"

"He teased the wrong musher?" She bobbed her head. "Ha! Did he already take his day layover?"

"He took it in Nikolai. He embarrassed himself just before Finger Lake." Apparently bored with the topic, she jumped forward and wrapped her arms around me. "You're making great time, Fluffy," she whispered. "Don't expect to win, alright?"

I held her, closing my eyes. What she said just then, she may not have realized how it brought the bad news back to my mind after chasing it away with excitement over the race. I felt her tense in my arms, probably sensing my thoughts, or having the same thoughts herself, but she didn't mention anything, and just held tighter. It was back, once again. Three times it had tried to sneak back in, and for two of those she was given months. This one looked serious; she had promised Doctor Lenard she would continue treatments during the race: once already in Anchorage, and once the day after my layover, when she flew up to Nome to wait for me there.

She felt weak, but just physically. She had bounced back from chemotherapy before with a little healthy grumbling about the nausea and side-effects. Even though Doctor Lenard looked grimmer each time he read the reports, this time was like all the others for her spirit. And it seemed to catch me up in the net as well, even though I knew this could be different. If it was, how many years had we still managed to wrestle away? How many memories, like this one, had we managed to sneak by? Her spirit... her heart was just that strong.

As I kissed her, just before the sun's light replaced the aurora, I locked it away in my memories with all the other moments that were ours, that couldn't be undone. Finally I answered her, leaving the suggestion in my reply, "I'll do everything I can do. Whatever happens, it was fun."

"Unorthodox, risky, and if it was just up to me, I'd say yes." Doctor Lenard leaned with his forehead against the wall next to the window. "To you. To Faye if she wasn't the one in the bed. As it stands, I can't put the hospital at risk of the lawsuits if anything went wrong. So the answer becomes no." He stood straight again, and took a breath. "No, with an unless."

"Listening." My eyes were still locked on Faye's.

"Unless you sign every form under the sun that says you know how crazy you're being."

"Give me a pen."

"Conor," he said, turning to face me. "Nothing's in your hand unless I'm pronouncing the time. Understood? We're not jumping to conclusions. Just know there are two people I think could pull this off, and I'm looking at them. I don't want to say it's over. You can still fight."

"I've heard that before," she replied, looking up at him. "I'll still fight, but just be aware that the last time we heard that... fighting wasn't enough."

"I can only ask, Faye, that you not give up."

"We have some special winners with us this year. They're veterans of three races before this one, but circumstances... well, they took them away from us for a while." Stanimir beamed from the pulpit as he basked in the glow of a long-awaited second victory. I caught the words he was saying, and blushed at what was likely coming. "These ten, beautiful creatures have returned to us this year, and they have brought back to us their beautiful human friend." He turned and looked at me. "And their other human friend who... well... I'm sorry, Conor, but your nose is too pointy for me to call you beautiful."

The crowd burst out in laughter. More so at the fact that Stanimir's hawk-like nose was even more pronounced in the profile he showed when turning to address me. He grinned and made a placating gesture after a moment, letting the laughter die down. "Conor, he is a beautiful human being, he is the second half of an amazing pair of people. The miracles he and Faye work with these dogs, on this trail, they are only a taste of what they offer. Conor is gentle, he is shy to meet for the first time, but he opens up to show great character when you give him a few moments.

"Faye. Faye perseveres. Her first race, it was an amazing year. One of the closest finishes, not just between first and second, but indeed even closer between second and third. She received Rookie of the Year, and amazed us all. And then came the second year. Maybe it was because of the route changes. Maybe it was because of the close call -- too close for comfort -- with one of the team's wild cousins; indeed, it could have been why Odin spooked and injured himself. She looked for no excuses; she just said it was an off-year. And then look at what happened when she came back! First place! I stand here today with another win, because I think of that drive each year.

"But I stand here now," he continued, his grin widening, "for another amazing pair. They are a pair very close to these two. They carried Faye through history, hardship and victory. They have led Conor on his great adventure this year. I am proud to say that the mushers from this year's race unanimously agree -- excluding, of course, one," he winked at me, "that the Golden Harness must go to the extraordinary lead dogs of Team Whelan, Odin and Freyja!"

Cheers rose from the crowd as Faye led the pair in. Stanimir reached his hand out and bade me stand. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he took advantage of the din to cover his whisper to me. "Conor, I know you do not need to hear me say anything about not winning," he said. "You are already happy for being here, and doing this. But consider how you define winning."

I looked at Faye and smiled. "It's all how we define it, huh?"

"I'm not afraid," she whispered. "Nervous, but not afraid."

"You're nervous?" I was leaning in close over the bed. Over the hour following our debate, she had felt more fatigued, a little weaker, but she still talked. "About what?"

"It's Christmas," she said. "You know, am I gonna walk into the middle of a party?" She chuckled. "Awkward doesn't begin to describe it."

I smiled. "Well, if this is it, He's obviously saving you a seat," I said. "I'm happy you're not afraid, Faye."

She gave a single laugh. "Been beyond that for a while, I'd say. I can just picture him. Death, sitting there in that chair. Has the newspaper in his hands, telling me how the Pats did this week, and oh, did I read the hilarious Garfield strip today?" She took a deep breath. "He's not this," she said, rubbing her left side to indicate the place the tumor just kept coming back to. "He's... something else." She paused, turning her eyes up to meet mine. "Am I getting to you, you know? Talking about another guy?"

I closed my eyes and smiled. "I know you and I have something special." I laid my head down on the pillow right next to hers. "And the way you described him, the newspaper and everything. That's my uncle."

"Oh yeah..." She sighed. "Mom, Dad, our family. They all want to be here to say... you know."

"They know I'm here," I replied. "Since they can't be, they know I'm enough."

"You're more than just 'enough.'" She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It was delicate, slow, weary, and would have made my heart sink. It should have been. But it was soaring. "You're everything."

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