Free The Bookseller by Cynthia Swanson

to talk to me. Finally a man picked up the telephone. When I told him I was the one who had rung for help, he said it appeared that Lars had had a heart attack. I asked where they were taking him, and he told me they were on their way to Porter Hospital.
    â€œI didn’t really think. I just grabbed a coat, called for a taxi—I didn’t have a car back then—and went outside. When I got to the emergency room at Porter, I gave Lars’s name and tried to get someone to tell me what was going on, but no one would. I didn’t know what else to do, so I sat down in the waiting room. No one else was there. After what felt like an eternity, a man and a woman came in. The woman said her brother had been brought in because he’d had a heart attack. She was taken into the treatment area. The man with her was about to follow, but I caught his arm.”
    Lars’s eyes are bright. “Quite forward of her, I might add.”
    â€œâ€˜Forward’ had nothing to do with it,” I tell him sweetly. “I just wanted to know what had happened. I explained who I was,that I was the one who had called for help. The man introduced himself; he was Lars’s brother-in-law, Steven. He told me to wait while he went inside to see what was going on. So I sat down again and waited. I was about to give up when Steven came back out. ‘He’s stable and conscious,’ he told me. ‘He’d like to see you.’
    â€œSo I was permitted to see him. He was lying on a cot in a treatment room, attached to all sorts of machines and monitors. His sister was seated at his side. When I came in, she rose and took my hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said, tearing up. ‘You saved his life.’
    â€œIt was then that Lars opened his eyes . . .” And here I stare at him again, look into the deep blue. It’s difficult to take my gaze away. Finally, I turn back to Judy and Bill. “Our eyes met, and he reached forward to take my hand. ‘Thank you, Katharyn,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you.’”
    I take a sip of wine, then smile delightedly around the table.
    â€œAnd that,” Lars says heartily, “was pretty much that. She visited me daily until I was released. When I went home, my sister Linnea was my official nurse, but Katharyn was the one who truly brought me back to health. I quit smoking—we both did—and started to exercise regularly. I love to hike, so we did that a lot, especially before we had children. And we took up tennis together; we still play in a doubles league. Of course, I have to take it a bit easy—I mostly play net, and Katharyn handles the back of the court.” He chuckles. “Trust me, folks, you don’t want to mess with this lady’s backhand.”
    I stare at him, wondering if I look as confused as I feel. I have not held a tennis racquet since gym class in high school. I cannot imagine myself being even remotely skilled at something as athletic as playing tennis.
    Lars squeezes my shoulder. “Katharyn and I were inseparablefrom the day we met. We got married less than a year later, and we’ve been happy as larks ever since.”
    â€œWhat an amazing story!” Judy exclaims. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anything quite so romantic.”
    Lars nods. “We ask each other all the time,” he says, “what if we had never met? What if we’d gotten off the telephone just a few minutes before we did? The answer is chillingly simple: if it hadn’t happened the way it did—why then, I would not have survived. We wouldn’t be here tonight.”
    My hands are trembling. My whole body tenses at his words.
    T he dream continues. We enjoy a hearty spaghetti dinner and a bottle of Chianti. We get to hear how they met (not nearly as exciting; they were introduced via mutual friends in college), and then linger over coffee for all and cigarettes for them. As he’d