Becky was on her deathbed with her husband, Jake, maintaining a steady
vigil by her side. As he held her fragile hand, his warm tears ran
silently down his face, splashed onto her face, and roused her from her
slumber. She looked up and her pale lips began to move slightly.
"My darling Jake," she whispered.
"Hush, my love," he said. "Go back to sleep. Shhh. Don't talk."
But she was insistent. "Jake," she said in her tired voice. "I have to
talk. I have something I must confess to you."
"There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Jake. "It's all right.
Everything's all right, go to sleep now."
"No, no. I must die in peace, Jake. I slept with your brother, your best
friend and your father."
Jake mustered a pained smile and stroked her hand. "Hush now Becky, don't
torment yourself. I know all about it," he said. "Why do you think I