Free If I Should Die Before I Wake by Lurlene McDaniel Page A

there,” Matt said.
    “Where?” she asked.
    “You’ll see . . .”
    The canoe slowed. Matt backwashed the paddle. Then he aimed the canoe into the bank between two clumps of trees. The canoe hit the land with a gentle thump.
    “Come on,” Matt urged, stepping out of the boat and pulling Deanne by the hand. “We’ve got to walk a little ways.”
    The underbrush was thick, but Deanne tagged along after Matt. In a few minutes she was breathing hard and starting to perspire. But she pushed through the bushes behind him.
    Matt stopped suddenly. “Wait,” he said, gasping for breath.
    “Are you all right?” she asked, alarmed.
    “Sure,” he gasped. “Just need to catch my breath. It’s okay. Really. Besides . . . we’re here.”
    “We’re where?” asked Deanne hesitantly.
    “At my special place. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”
    She obeyed. “Now don’t peek,” he said. “Follow me.”
    Deanne held on tightly as he led her along. Finally, he said, “Open up.”
    Deanne did. They were standing in a clearing in the forest. A carpet of pine needles covered the ground like a soft blanket. Tall, age-old firs and pines reached high overhead. They were so dense and thick that the sky was completely hidden. Long shafts of thick yellow sunlight hung in the air like taut ribbons. The air was cool.
    It was so peaceful and beautiful that Deanne could hardly speak. Finally she said, “Oh, Matt! It’s . . . it’s . . . magnificent!”
    “I know,” he whispered. “I discovered it one summer years ago. It’s like a cathedral, isn’t it?”
    Deanne walked around the small clearing, looking up at the dark, green trees. She touched the trunks. She cupped her hands under a stream of sunlight and let it collect in a golden pool.
    “Come here,” he said as he sat down on an old log.
    Deanne sat next to him and he took her hand. Her heart pounded, and her knees felt weak.
    “I’ve never shown this place to anyone,” he told her. “Never.” He put his arms around her shoulders. She rested her head on his chest.
    “Thank you for bringing me,” she whispered.
    “Somehow, it didn’t seem right that no one else should see it. Especially since I don’t think I’ll ever see it again.”
    She let out a cry and pushed away from him. “Matt! No . . .”
    “It’s all right, Deanne. I’m not afraid,” he said, pulling her close.
    “Please don’t,” she begged, tears brimming in her eyes.
    “You’ve been a good friend to me,” he said. “You’ve made these last few months the best. Thanks.”
    His chin rested on the top of her head. She lay her head back onto his chest. She could hear the beat of his heart.
    “I used to wonder,” he continued softly. “I still wonder. . . what it would be like to grow old . . .”
    Tears escaped her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Hey,” he smiled, cupping her face in one of his hands. “Don’t cry. It’s all right. Really. I just wanted you to know that I’m not scared. I wanted to bring you here and show you this place.”
    His arms tightened around her again. They stood like that for a long time, letting time and summer wash over them. His mouth brushed her ear. “We’ve got to get back,” he whispered.
    She looked up at him. He looked pale. “Why don’t I paddle home?” she offered. Then she added more lightly, “That is, if you trust me not to capsize the boat.”
    “I trust you,” his smile looked pained. Deanne took his hand and headed back into the undergrowth, toward the canoe. She sniffed loudly and took a deep breath. Somehow she knew that she had to be the strong one now.
    Matt lay down in the canoe and Deanne began to paddle back toward his house. It was longer to follow the shoreline, but she felt safer going that way. By the time she paddled back, her arms and shoulders ached. But she kept up a constant stream of chatter. It kept Matt’s mind off how bad he felt.
    Mr. Gleason rushed into the water and grabbed the front of the