Tomorrow

Rachel climbed up the ladder of her wide bookcase to the topmost shelf and stretched as far as she could to pull out her mother’s sacred book. The leather-bound cover felt warm in her hands despite the cold night, natural and welcoming, as if it had been waiting for her all these years.

A chill traveled down Rachel’s spine, and she raised the collar of her robe to cover her neck. She descended the ladder and ran to the sofa beside the fireplace, where Jacob held Lydia in his arms.

“Found it.” Rachel knelt at Lydia’s side, placing the book in her frail hands.

“That’s grandma’s book of spells?” Lydia said, holding the book up to the flickering light of the fireplace, taking note of the intricate carving in the leather cover.

“It has a spell that will cure you once and for all,” Rachel said, half smiling.

“It is going to hurt?”

“You won’t feel a thing, my darling. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up as if you were never sick.”

Her innocent doe eyes light up as if she had just won a prize at the carnival. “Will I be able to go outside?”

Tears formed in Rachel’s eyes, and she smiled despite them. After months of experimental treatment, fruitless examinations by countless doctors, endless bloodletting, and following meaningless orders, no one has cured Lydia’s consumption. Keep her inside. Keep her sedated. Keep her resting. Keep her away from perfumes, flowers, animals, friends, and anything that may cause excitement or stress. Keep her from getting worse.

They did everything they asked, and Lydia still got worse.

“Yes, my dear,” Rachel cooed at her seven-year-old daughter, “you’ll be able to run around and play like you used to.”

“Can we go to the World’s Fair?” Lydia asked with newfound energy in her voice. “Tomorrow’s the last day! There’s a show of electricity, a light show, and John said it’s amazing. Please, can we go?”

Before Rachel or Jacob could answer, Lydia coughed so violently that Jacob quickly pulled out his handkerchief and held it by her chin to catch the blood spurting out. Once done, Rachel wiped Lydia’s mouth with a clean washcloth and gently brushed her disheveled hair away from her face.

“We’ll go to the World’s Fair tomorrow,” Rachel said, giving Jacob a knowing look. “But you must rest.”

Fanciful visions of the Chicago World’s Fair danced in Lydia’s mind. What will the light show look like? What other inventions will there be? Will John go with me? She closed her eyes and imagined going on horse rides with her cousin, playing tag around the rose bushes, and pretending to fight off enemy invaders in the flower garden. Her body relaxed as her mind spiraled into delightful dreams. Half asleep, she whispered, “I can’t wait to tell John. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Jacob carefully lowered Lydia onto the sofa as if handling a fragile piece of glass. Once Lydia’s breath grew long and steady, Jacob kissed her forehead and headed to the fireplace.

He stirred the wood with the black metal poker until the fire popped and crackled, thrusting the rod with fury and frustration. Sparks and smoke escaped up the chimney in a rush. He sacrificed another piece of wood to heat the vast room.

Sacrifice, he thought, I’d sacrifice my soul if I could.

Rachel arrived at his side. “My darling, it’s time.”

A sinking sensation struck Jacob’s stomach, and he suddenly felt pressure in his chest.

“Darling?”

“I…” Jacob’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I’m not ready.”

A tidal wave of emotions battled for control as Jacob paced between the fireplace and the sofa. He glanced at his daughter and wife intermittently, his two most valuable treasures.

“It should be me!” He glared at Rachel. “I should be the one sacrificing my life for hers. Not you. A little girl needs her mother. Lydia needs you.”

“Jacob, darling, there is nothing we can do about this. Only a mother can perform this magic.”

He grabbed the poker and flipped the firewood forcefully, creating a small cloud of black smoke and ash, which he contained within the fireplace with a slight twist of his wrist and a spell. He squeezed the poker tight. Bile formed in his mouth, and he spat into the flames.

Such pointless magic. Parlor tricks. I should die for my daughter. Not my wife. Not her mother. It’s all so fucking arbitrary. So fucking unfair.

Rachel inched closer. “My love, we are running out of time.”

After settling the poker in its holster, after taking a long, profound breath to regain his composure, Jacob stood tall, cleared his throat, and spoke in a low, neutral tone. “How long will you have before you…”

Rachel reached for his arm, but he didn’t look at her. “Maybe a day or two. No more than whatever Lydia has left. Her heart is beating slower. Her breath has shortened. She is too weak to even sit up. We shouldn’t wait any longer.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” His voice was rough, laced with bitterness. ”What kind of husband stands idly by while his wife sacrifices her life? I can’t save Lydia. I can’t save you. What good is my magic? What purpose do I have if I can’t protect my family?” He stifled another sob. “I have to watch you die, and I can do nothing about it.”

“Oh, my darling,” Rachel wiped her tears, “you are not being idle. In fact, you have the harder task. You will have to raise Lydia on your own. You will have to explain to her what occurred tonight. You will have to be both mother and father to her. That is your role. That is your purpose.”

Jacob shook his head, still staring at the fire.

“Please look at me, my love.” Rachel placed both her hands on his cheeks and pulled him in.

When he finally gazed upon Rachel’s hazel eyes, Jacob melted. Maybe she was using her magic to calm him, as she had often done when his anxiety was too much to bear. Perhaps the reassuring effect her gaze had always had on him was softening away his anger. Maybe her soothing voice tempered the wild rage he’s kept hidden since Lydia became gravely ill. Whatever the reason, he felt at peace. He found his purpose in Rachel’s words, in her touch, in her deep, hazel eyes.

Jacob kissed the love of his life passionately. He couldn’t hold her close enough. The most significant moments of their life together over the past decades flashed in his mind within seconds. Love, sadness, guilt, and hope tugged his heart in opposite directions. He felt relief at saving his daughter’s life and immense grief at its cost.

When he finally pulled away, he stepped back and nodded. He was ready.

A general sense of numbness flowed throughout Rachel’s body as she walked over to Lydia, who was still sound asleep on the sofa. In the few seconds it took to walk across the room, Rachel envisioned what Lydia and Jacob would go through after she died. She feared their suffering, yet she was unafraid of her own death.

My daughter’s life, she thought, trumps all fear.

She snipped a few strands of Lydia’s hair and a few strands of her own and braided the hairs together before tying the ends into a loop. She pulled the book from Lydia’s sleepy grasp and whispered in her ear, “I love you, my sweet angel.”

At the foot of the fireplace, standing squarely over the flames, Rachel raised her arms to the side and recited the spell. Her body felt weightless, like she was rising into the air, even though her feet were planted firmly on the ground. Once she uttered the last word, she tossed the tied hair strands into the flames, and the fire roared.

Rachel strained to breathe normally and felt a heaviness that weakened her knees. Jacob rushed to catch her before she completely collapsed. Within seconds, Rachel was in her bed.

Her hands felt cold in Jacob’s grasp as if the blood was rushing out of her body. “Please, please, not yet. Just one more day,” Jacob prayed, his tears flowing freely. “Just one more day. Please.”

“Everything will be fine, my love, you’ll see,” she managed between short breaths. “I have one more day left in me. I promise. But I must rest.”

The following morning, Lydia awoke healthier than ever. Rachel was fading, but with the help of various chemical and natural stimulants, she mustered enough energy for a day trip to Chicago’s World’s Fair.

Jacob, Rachel, and Lydia all saw the electrical light show, and the giant Ferris Wheel powered by electricity, the first of its kind. Lydia laughed and giggled as she used to, and even Jacob couldn’t contain his joy. He would smile at his wife, momentarily forgetting the dark cloud that loomed, and then do his best to mask his pain when he remembered.

Something odd overcame Rachel when they visited the botanical garden at the fair. She had never smelled lilacs so strong that she was sure she had a petal stuck to her shirt. She heard the wings of Monarch butterflies flutter as they flew from flower to flower, and the melodious whistling of birds watching overhead in the weeping willow trees. The sky was the richest blue she had ever seen, and she swore she heard the autumn breeze whisper her name.

After spending a beautiful day with her parents, Lydia went to sleep that night filled with bliss. As most children her age do, she instantly forgot about all the suffering she had endured these past months. All she could think about, all she dreamt about that night, were the infinite possibilities of tomorrow.

Jacob held Rachel in his arms as they talked well into the night. He knew what was coming and was delaying it for as long as possible. But the day was long, and Jacob was tired.

Once he fell asleep, Rachel gently kissed him on his lips. She closed her eyes, smiled, and thought about Lydia laughing and giggling, before taking her final breath.