Strong
(Disclaimer: Not my characters.)
He had been as strong as he could for poor Lavinia, though the effort had cost him dearly. He had . . . almost stayed strong for Mary. Would have stayed strong, had his stomach not suddenly reacted uncontrollably to the emotions roiling in him. (At the back of his mind, as she gently lowered his head back onto the pillow and wiped his mouth, was the bitter reflection that perhaps no part of his body would obey him ever again.)
But when he saw his mother standing there at last, after all the endless days and nights of waiting—then, finally, Matthew gave up every effort to be strong. His face crumpled like a child's.
"Mother!"
The next moment she was beside him, smoothing back his hair and murmuring his name, as she had when he was a boy waking from a nightmare. And for an instant, just for one blessed instant, he could almost believe he was going to wake up from this one.