Before long, the dark, cold winter gives way to spring and you find yourself leaving your coat behind when you go outside to plant herbs in the window boxes. Brittany's arm has completely healed and she spends long days not at the shipyard, but in preparing the Alcott for the start of the fishing season. It seems that even on weekends she's working on it, leaving only a few hours on Sunday for you to enjoy each other's company. You don't begrudge it though, you appreciate that her skill and care for her boat has provided you with a beautiful home and you love her all the more when she comes home bone weary and tired eyed.

One weekend, she stays home, and you're surprised that she isn't up before dawn to leave. You roll and curl into her in bed, craving the feeling of your body pressed against hers. She breathes deeply in her sleep and you rest your head on her chest, feeling the thump of her heart, the rise and fall of her chest. Though the sun is coming up warm outside the window and you'd normally greet it to work outside, you make no effort to move from the bed. You relish the time you have with Brittany's arm still slung over you, you relish the fact that each and every morning you get to wake up with her by your side.

Given the conversation you'd had with her after speaking with your mother, you suspect that she's been worried that you'll live up to your responsibility to your parents and marry a man and move back to the city. She kisses you a little more fiercely, she makes love to you a little more frantically and you try to soothe her with your words and your actions, never forgetting to put your ring back on your finger when you're in the house. You're not going anywhere, you couldn't imagine a life without her in it, and you need to be certain she knows that.

"Are ya watchin' me?" Brittany asks, rubbing her eyes and giving you a smile.

"I love that I get to wake up every morning with you, that's all."

"I love wakin' up with ya in the morning too. I'm glad I didn't go to work on the boat today, feels like it's about time I got to sleep in with ya."

"You needed the rest anyway, love. You've been working yourself really hard."

"It's almost time to put her in the water and the winter really took a toll on her. But I'm almost done, so I thought I could take the day to be with you. I thought we ought to go look at things for when the little girls come, it's comin' up real quick and I know ya want to have the bedroom together."

"I do." You nod. "I appreciate the idea that we get them their own beds. We'll move the big bed to the other room though, that way they'll be closer to our room if they need us."

"Are ya nervous to have them for the whole summer, in case they suspect something and tell your mama?"

"I'm not." You shake your head slowly. "They're too young to understand enough to think it's odd. They think every night is a sleepover because they share a room, they'll think nothing of us doing the same."

"Are ya sure? Because I can sleep down the hall…"

"I couldn't dream of not sleeping beside you for the whole summer. We have nothing to worry over, I promise you that."

"Alright, sweetheart, ya know what's best."

For a while longer, you stay in bed. Neither of you are in a hurry to get up, but once you finally dress, you go down to the kitchen and she makes eggs while you percolate the coffee. It's been some time since you've gone shopping on the mainland, but the search for beds for the girls calls for it and you settle your hat on your head just as you're leaving the house, a bit more dressed up than you normally would be if you were staying close to home.

On the ferry, Brittany encounters people you don't know, and she introduces them as friends of her father. When they ask how she's been holding up, you see the sadness creep into her eyes and you wish you could kiss it away. You know that she feels not only the sadness of her father's death, but the way it's outcast her and you study the faces of the people she speaks with, trying to determine if they're genuine in their concern for her, or believing she's just an odd girl who they take pity on.

"I'd like to take ya to lunch." She tells you, once you're off the ferry and walking side by side in the bright sunshine toward Main Street.

"That would be nice." You smile. "To go somewhere new, since we usually just go to Mr. Edja's."

"I know a real good place we can go. Just follow me."

You follow Brittany as she takes you down Main Street and into a little restaurant. You assume that she's been here with Mr. Brewster, because it seems quite nice than a place that her and the boys would go on their own, and you smile as you're lead to a private little table in the back. Subtly, under the table, she hooks her ankle with yours and you feel tingles prick up and down your body. There's a bit of a thrill of the small act of intimacy in a public place and you cherish it will all of your heart as she smiles at you across the table.

When you're through eating, you walk with Brittany toward the department store. It's a bit funny, considering you ordered all of the furniture for your house for the mail order catalogue, but Brittany is insistent upon looking at the beds for the girls to find what is best and you're happy to indulge her. Of all the things you love Brittany for, sometimes you think the way she cares for your sisters is what you love the most. They're so vitally important to you and knowing that the love of your life adores them means the world to you.

"What about bunk beds?" She asks, standing in front of the wooden set. "Maybe for Carlotta and Concetta, and then we can get a smaller bed for Mariana."

"I think they'd like that a lot. Although they may have to take turns on the top bunk, because I don't think they'll be able to decide who gets it."

"Ya probably are right about that, but so long as they don't mind…"

"I don't think they will." You smile. "The way you're so thoughtful with my sisters means a lot to me."

"I know they mean a lot to ya, and they mean an awful lot to me too. We won't ever have any babies of our own, so I like carin' for those little girls when we can."

"It means a lot to my parents too, I think. Every time I speak to my mother, she reminds me to thank you for allowing them to stay with us."

"I'm real glad they came around to thinkin' it was a good idea. Maybe we could send 'em back with some things they need to, make it so your mama doesn't have to do the shopping and spend the money."

"I suppose my father couldn't object to that." You sigh a little.

"What's the matter?"

"It's nothing much, I just worry that he's upset with me for many things."

"Mostly about ya not findin' a husband and settlin' down and havin' babies?"

"I don't know, Brittany. I wish sometimes that I could tell them who you are to me." You whisper, looking around to make sure no one is near. "In the end, your father knew, and I wish they could see that I'm happier than I could ever be in the life they thought I was meant to have."

"I understand that, but it's real hard. If they were cruel to ya, I wouldn't be able to stand it."

"Do you ever wonder if someday it might be different?"

"I'm not sure." She shakes her head. "I hope so."

You finish shopping for furniture, choosing a bed for Mariana and speaking to the sales girl about delivering it to the island. It costs quite a bit more to do that, but Brittany takes out her wallet and counts out the money, insisting that she does. Once that is taken care of, you go upstairs to choose bedding, finding the sunniest things you can find so the room is even brighter in the outside light the windows bring in and then you choose a few summer items of clothing for the girls and you pay, helping Brittany carry the bags back toward the ferry.

On the boat, you're quiet, but you smile toward Brittany whenever she looks at you. You walk down the beach toting your purchases alongside Brittany and you go up the stairs to the house, leaving everything in the girls' bedroom. Another day, you'll move the bed that's in there, but for now, you just close the door and follow Brittany back downstairs. She turns on the radio and takes you in her arms to dance along to Bing Crosby. Only with her would you find it so appealing to dance in the sitting room and you softly kiss her lips.

The night cools down and after dinner, Brittany builds a fire and you cuddle up beside it until you go up to bed. Like you always do, you fall asleep in her arms, the sound of her breathing lulling you into slumber. When she rises from bed the next morning, you feel a heaviness in your head and a weight on your chest. You try to sit up, but you find it hard to breathe and you immediately collapse back against the pillows. Fighting to open your eyes, your vision swims and you close them again, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. You hadn't gotten influenza when Ana had it, but you feel in your bones that it's come to you now. Brittany has already left the bed and you're too weak to call for her, so you lay back against the pillows and clutch the cross around your neck, praying that God will be kind to you.

She doesn't come back into the bedroom before she leaves to work on the Alcott and you're not sure how you'll manage to get yourself up to use the bathroom. Every inch of you aches and you can't call for help because the phone is downstairs. Eventually, your bladder gets the best of you and you roll from the bed, collapsing on the floor before you can get to your knees to crawl there. Your nightgown gets in the way and your elbows threaten to give in as you inch toward the bathroom. Finally you make it and you cry as you relieve yourself, not knowing how you'll be able to get back to bed. You pray that Brittany comes in for lunch today, though some days, she doesn't, because you know that you need a doctor desperately.

You feel like it takes the better part of an hour to get back into bed and your whole body shivers with cold even under the heavy blankets that are still on from the long winter. Letting your eyes close, you fall into a fitful slumber, but you're too pained to feel any rest. You think of your childhood illnesses, how your mother would bring you a hot water bottle and sit by your bed and sing to you. How safe you felt then, and how much safer you'd feel now if Brittany would only come home. The door opening downstairs stirs you from your restless slumber and you hear Brittany call out your name. You're too weak to answer back and you hope she doesn't assume you've gone out for the day. Footsteps make their way up the stairs and suddenly, even with you swimming vision, you see her standing before you.

"Santana." The alarm in her voice strikes you and she sinks down on the bed at your side. "Are ya alright?"

"No." You croak, blindly searching for her hand. "I need—"

"I'll go for him." Brittany kisses me forehead. "And I'll see if Mercy can come sit with ya while I do."

"But Ana."

"Sam's home, I saw him on my way it. Sweetheart, we'll get ya well."

Your eyes close and when you open them again, Mercy is sitting at your bedside and a cup of tea is on the nightstand. It's too difficult to lift your head, so you know you won't be able to drink, but you smile weakly, letting her know you appreciate the gesture. She makes to stand but you shake your head. You don't want her getting to close to you because of Ana, but it's difficult to formulate words. The dizziness scares you and mostly you long for Brittany to be back. You hope she can get Dr. Chang to come, you hope he tells you that you'll be alright and you close your eyes again, just waiting.

When you open your eyes again, Brittany is standing beside the bed. You see that Mercy is still there, but Dr. Chang is nowhere to be seen. A cold fear runs through you, knowing how illness can destroy a life and you see Brittany's furrowed brow, thinking of all the great losses she's had. Gently, she sits down on the edge of the bed and she takes your limp hand in hers, rubbing it between hers. That small gesture in the only thing that makes you just a bit grateful that Dr. Chang isn't there, because Brittany wouldn't be able to comfort you otherwise.

"He's out on a call." Brittany tells you softly. "Mikey's gonna try and find him and bring him here. But I didn't want to leave ya any longer."

"You ought to drink some." Mercy reminds you, lifting the glass of juice she left beside your teacup.

"I'll help her." Brittany takes the glass and helps you sit up. "Here sweetheart, just a sip."

"I had better make some soup." Mercy tells Brittany. "She'll need it to get her energy up."

"You need to go home." You rasp. "Ana."

"Sam will be just fine with her. You saved my girl twice, the least I can do is help you while you're ill."

"Thank you." You manage and Mercy slips out of the room, leaving you in Brittany's arms. "I'm scared."

"I've got ya. We'll get ya treated real soon, I promise. And until then, I'm not goin' anywhere."

"I don't want you to get sick."

"If I'm gonna get sick, I'll get sick anyway, I slept beside ya all night." She kisses your forehead. "What can I do for ya?"

"My whole body aches."

"I'll run ya a bath, that ought to help."

"I'm…I'm not sure I can walk there."

"Then I'll carry ya." Brittany promises. "I'll be right back."

Brittany goes off to the bathroom to draw your bath and your eyes slip closed again. You love how she cares for you in a way only she can and when she comes back, she lifts you into her arms, undresses you gently and lowers you into the tub. As you soak, you hear her putting clean sheets on the bed and opening and closing drawers to get you a new nightgown. You're so listless that you can barely keep your head above water, but she comes back and helps you out, drying your body and tugging the nightgown over your head before she brings you back to bed. You fall asleep again and when you wake, you see her sitting beside the bed, crying softly.

"Brittany?" You whisper, throat aching.

"Did I wake ya?" She looks up quickly wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"No. Why are you crying?"

"I'm just real scared of losin' ya. I don't like seein' ya so ill. I wish Mikey'd get here with his brother to see to ya. Maybe I ought to go out and look for him again."

"Stay, please. I feel better when you're here." You try to sit up but your head swims and you collapse back into the pillows.

"I have soup." Mercy stands in the doorway holding a bowl. "I'm going to have to go home to feed Ana, but I'll send some back."

"It's alright." Brittany shakes her head. "I'm gonna stay by the bed with Santana, don't go worryin' about us."

"If you're certain. But I'm going to send Sam out again to try and find Dr. Chang. I'm awfully concerned and if he can get to you, that will relieve me a bit."

"Thank ya Mercy, that'd be real helpful."

Though your eyes are still swimming, you watch Mercy leave before you shut them again. As glad as you are to have Brittany beside you, you're concerned that she'll get sick too, but you can't bear to tell her to go. You'd nearly begged her not to leave just a few moments ago and you feel safer when she's an arm's length away. You feel her place a cool rag on your head and you exhale sharply as a shiver runs through your body. You've never been one to complain, but you ache everywhere and for just a moment, you wish that you were in your parents' house so your father could look at you. Luckily, it isn't long before you hear low talking in the room and Dr. Chang is at your bedside.

"Miss Lopez, I'm here to examine you."

"Thank you." You breathe and Brittany helps you to sit up a little.

Even sick, you're modest and it embarrasses you for Dr. Chang to see you in your nightgown. He's nothing but professional though, taking your temperature, listening to your heartbeat, listening to you as you tell him about the aches in your bones. Brittany catches your eye an she gives you a small smile, one you try to return as Dr. Chang feels the glands in your throat. When he's finished examining you, he tells you that it's influenza, but it's worsened by the illness you'd had the summer you first came to Fire Island. He gives you medication but tells you it will take time to heal and you pull the quilt up over you, thanking him as he takes his leave.

"I oughta call Mr. Woodhull for ya. Ya won't be in any shape to go to work this week."

"But the children." You protest, despite knowing that there is no possibility you can ever make it to work.

"Someone'll teach 'em, but ya need to stay in bed at get well."

You nod and yawn, knowing that you can't stay awake any longer and fall back into a deep sleep. When you open your eyes again, you can tell it's very late and Brittany is in bed beside you. She feels you stir and she sits up, looking you over to make sure you're alright. You rub your temples and then take her hand, falling back to sleep.

It goes on like that for days, and Brittany neglects her work on the Alcott to stay and care for you. Mercy comes too, bringing meals you can barely eat and doing the chores so Brittany doesn't have to leave your bedside. You hate that Brittany has been so touched by death that she fears the worst and you try to offer her reassurances that you'll be alright. Finally, by Thursday, you're able to get out of bed, though your knees ache when you stand. Brittany helps you down the stairs and you sink down into the sofa cushions, pulling the throw blanket around you.

"I'd like to get some fresh air." You tell Brittany. "I just need to sit for a moment."

"I'll get a blanket and a sweater for ya so we can sit down on the beach. The ocean air'll do ya good."

She disappears back upstairs and then returns with her arms full of warm things for you. When you have the strength to stand again, she takes your arm and leads you out the door. Once you're on the sand, Brittany spreads the blanket and helps you to settle yourself on it. You're not used to being weak like this, you're not used to needing to be doted upon, but you can't help yourself and when she sits beside you, you rest your head on her shoulder.

"Are ya alright? Ya aren't too cold?"

"I'm okay." You smile at her, though you know your face is gaunt from days of not eating. "I'd just like to sit like this awhile."

"I called your mama the day before yesterday, let her know ya weren't feeling well but that ya'd seen the doctor. She'd like if ya called her when ya can."

"I will. Once we go inside."

"I hated seein' ya so sick. I'd do anything for ya, and seein' ya like that made me feel real powerless."

"You were there, that's all I needed."

"I'd have done more if I could."

"Brittany." You touch her cheek, starved of her touch. "It's alright now, the worst has past."

"I know." A tear slips down her cheek and you brush it away. "And I'm real glad for that."