So when we travel, he can forget about trying to invent a microscopic fiber-eater that can go into my lungs, or calling every research hospital in the world to talk about drug trials. When we travel, we get to be a happily married couple with a few health considerations. We’d been talking about going to as many of the national parks as we could—Zion and Yellowstone, maybe Denali, in case the pure, cold air would help my lungs.

 Dr. Bennett advised against it. For now, she said.

 So guess what my husband did, Dad? He rented a crazy-beautiful house on Cape Cod for the entire year! It has five bedrooms so we could have Jen, Darius and the kids whenever we want! There’s a chef’s kitchen, a screened-in porch and three decks, and it’s right on a cliff overlooking the ocean. One serious winter storm could take it out, but hey, for our purposes, it’s perfect. A house on the ocean. Who knew I’d ever be that lucky? We’re going up next week, and I can’t wait.

 So your son-in-law is doing his job beautifully, Dad. Just wanted you to know.

 Love,

 Lauren

That Cape house made Lauren fall in love, not just with the gorgeousness of the place but with her husband all over again . . . and also, with how they could be here.

They went up the first weekend in June and sat on the deck, staring at the ocean, holding hands. Pebbles jumped up next to her, unaware that she wasn’t a tiny puppy anymore. The day was sunny and clear, so peaceful and so full . . . the gentle roar of the waves, the wind that gusted erratically, the birds twittering and chattering in the trees. The air smelled like lilacs and salt and pine needles, and if it could be bottled, no one would need antidepressants ever again.

“I feel more like us,” she said.

Josh looked at her, the sun glinting off his black hair. He would tan in minutes with that olive skin of his, courtesy of his mysterious father. “What do you mean?”

“Well . . . we don’t have doctor’s appointments here. No mail cluttering up the counters—”

“Clutter, Mrs. Park?”

“Dr. Park, you’re a slob.”

“I’m reformed. That shock collar worked great.”

She snorted and squeezed his hand. “You know what I mean. It’s not regular life with appointments and obligations. It’s just us and Pebbles. No schedule to keep.” She leaned over and kissed him softly. “Thank you. I love it.”

“I know not being able to travel hit you hard.”

“Well. This is just as good. Better, even.” Though she felt a pang at the idea of possibly never traveling again, it was definitely muted by this view, the deep blue of the Atlantic, the perfect sky above. “I don’t want to waste time feeling bad about what I don’t have when what I do have is all this. You. Jen, the kids, Miss Pebblety-Pie.”

“Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

She laughed again. “Don’t you Shawshank me.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked over dinner that night. He had to fly to Sacramento for a meeting tomorrow, and Lauren was a little glad. They’d barely been apart since getting married, aside from his three-day medical device conference each fall, and a weekend trip to Vermont she’d taken with Jen. She wanted to be alone here, so close to the sea, in this beautiful house where the sunrise woke her, and she could sip coffee and study the clouds, Pebbles by her side. “I’d feel a lot better if Jen was with you. Or your mom.”

Lauren pulled a face. “Jen just had a baby, and Mom would look at me and cry and tell me how hard this is for her? No, thanks. I’ll be fine, babe. I already called the fire department to let them know exactly where this house is in case of emergency. Sarah’s coming up on Wednesday, and you’ll be back Friday. Relax.”

“I don’t do relaxed.”

She smiled at him, then got up from her chair. “Come to bed, handsome. I’ll relax you. And I’ll clean the kitchen afterward.”

“Winning on all fronts today.” He stood up and wrapped her in his arms, and Lauren felt, as she always did, that this was the best place in the world. Right against his neck, smelling his nice Josh smell, slipping her hands up his lean back, feeling the slide of his muscles. When he kissed her, it was slow and warm, and she felt everything in her rise and lean into him, from the hairs on the back of her neck to the tugging deep in her stomach.

They still had this. Desire, attraction, affection, lust . . . and love, that golden light that seemed to wrap around the two of them, shielding them from the outside world.

* * *

WHEN HE LEFT the next day, Lauren savored the house, wandering from room to room, looking out at the ocean in a state of wonder. Pebbles, who took her Australian shepherding heritage seriously, stuck to her heels. Around three, they took a nap, and when Lauren woke up, she checked her O2 sat and found it was on the low side. She put in the cannula and turned on her oxygen, then sat on the deck with a blanket around her shoulders and sipped some wine as she listened to the ocean.

It had been a year and a half since her diagnosis. It seemed longer. In hindsight, she could see that the IPF had been there for years before Dr. Bennett gave it a name. So, assuming it had started around age twenty-three, the first time she could definitively remember feeling short of breath for no reason, she’d been living with this for almost five years.

The life expectancy of most IPF patients was three to five years. But she was young and otherwise healthy, and she was a damn good patient, complying with everything and then some—yoga, meditation, exercise, healthy foods, Chinese herbs, respiratory therapy. So there was plenty of reason to think she’d live years longer. That she and Josh could come back to this house every summer for a few weeks. That they could celebrate her thirtieth birthday here, and her fortieth. She’d made friends with Charlene, another young woman on the IPF forum, and Char had just gone to Australia and swum with dolphins off the Great Barrier Reef. So there.