Jake was dying. His wife, Becky, was maintaining a candlelight vigil by
his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her
praying roused him from his slumber; He looked up and his pale lips
began to move slightly.

“Becky my darling” he whispered. “Hush my love,” she said. “Rest, don’t
talk.” He was insistent “Becky,” he said in his tired voice, “I have
something that I must confess.” There’s nothing to confess,” replied
the weeping Becky, “Everything’s all right, go to sleep.”

“No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I ….. I slept with your sister,
your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!”

“I know, sweetheart,” whispered Becky, “let the poison work.”

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