Rachel

"What?" Rachel gasped. "Why, Jacob? We can do anything we want now with all this money."

"Darling, remember when I told you I took two law studies classes in college?" I asked.

"Yes, I remember," she replied.

"Well, one of those classes was called Community Property," I continued. "We are not married, and If you gave me access to your money, AND if I were to die, California Probate Laws would tie things up for ages. It's best that you have complete management control over your money. My financial advisor is a whiz and can protect your assets in the event of my demise. So you see, honey, we are in our later years now and need to prepare for the inevitable."

Rachel agreed with me, and with my attorney's advice and my financial advisor's acumen, Rachel had a sound portfolio and never needed to worry about money again. Besides, I didn't want Rachel to think I might be a male golddigger. I had my wealth and didn't need her money. When I retired from the Air Force, I won a poker tournament in Las Vegas. The payout was $50,000. Drunk with glee, I went to a pit boss in the casino and asked for a high roller table. Luck was with me that night at the craps table. The casino cut me off when my winnings reached $750,000. I left Las Vegas as an almost millionaire.

Elizabeth and I traveled the world and spent the $50k I won in the tournament. While in Italy, I read about cryptocurrency. Elizabeth and I discussed my idea of investing, and she limited my risk to $100,000 in BitCoin in 2009 when it first hit the market at eight dollars per share and cashed out when the value hit $10,000 in 2019. My pre-tax earning was $125 million. Uncle Sam took 33 percent because I did not have a savvy enough tax preparer to shield me. About two weeks after we returned from Italy, Elizabeth became ill.

My life seemed worth living with Rachel by my side. I asked her to marry me the next Halloween. It was about 9:00 p.m. when I turned out the porch light. I had a fire burning, and the lights were out in my living room. Rachel had sat on the sofa, watching the embers below the fire. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the ring box, and palmed it to hide it from Rachel. She held her wine glass and watched the fire as I sat on the coffee table directly before her. I had placed the ring box next to my leg on the table, blocking her view.

I took the wine glass from Rachel's hands, set it on the table beside me, and grabbed both of her hands as I began my proposal. "Rachel, my darling, my life before you was dark and full of anguish. When Elizabeth died, I thought I would die a lonely old man with nobody to love. You changed that when you stepped out of the shadows and into the light on our sidewalk. Sweetheart, my thoughts are filled with you from the moment I awaken until I fall asleep next to each night. Hell, I can't even get you out of my dreams. Sweetheart, will you marry me and spend the rest of your life loving me as much as I love you?

I reached for the ring box and held it open for her to see. Rachel's hands wildly flapped as she excitedly bounced on the sofa cushion. I presented the ring for her inspection. The smile on her face was ear-to-ear as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. When she saw the ring, her hands covered her open mouth. Rachel's body trembled as she nodded yes. I pulled the ring from the box, held her left hand, and gently slid the ring onto her ring finger. Rachel stared at the ring for about 10 seconds before launching into my arms.

In a spluttering voice full of hiccups, Rachel said, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

Since neither of us had any family, we eloped to Las Vegas two weeks later and spent a week dining, dancing, gambling, and sexual bliss. We stayed at the Aria Sky Suites and made use of all the amenities. I especially like the couple's massage sessions. Our life at home was full of love. When we returned home, I told Rachel of my fortune, and our attorney drafted new wills, power of attorney forms, and advanced healthcare directives. She could not believe I was so wealthy yet lived like ordinary folks. My heart soared when she told me she was not interested in moving or improving our lifestyle to like the rich and famous. Rachel told me she was content with what we had and wouldn't know how to act any other way.

Rachel and I loved one another for the next twenty years with passionate abandonment. But, as life happens, tragedy struck again. Rachel became sick right before our 17th anniversary. Her lymph nodes had swollen, bone pain in her shoulder, fatigue, fever, night sweats, and easy bleeding with flu-like symptoms. She shrugged off my concern, telling me she would be better soon. A trip to the family doctor for blood tests revealed the reason for Rachel's illness. She had Leukemia. I was devastated. With no blood relatives to draw a bone marrow sample from for testing, Rachel's chances for survival were near zero.

Rachel suffered all through her chemotherapy. Her hair fell out in bunches. Rachel's body started to shut down from the intense doses of radiation. I did my best to comfort her and shaved my head in solidarity. She laughed when she saw my chrome-dome but then cried. Rachel kept a strong attitude toward beating the Cancer. For the next two years, Rachel fought hard. When her oncologists pronounced Rachel cancer-free, we wept together. The staff at the hospital lined both sides of the corridor as we walked toward the ship's bell hanging on the wall. Rachel paused beside the bell and faced me before reaching the cord to ring the bell.

"My darling, Jacob," Rachel said. "You are my reason for living, and I could not have endured this without you."

We were close to our 20th wedding anniversary when Rachel failed to wake one dreary late October morning. The sky was overcast and unseasonably cold for Southern California. Rachel had passed in her sleep from natural causes. The Leukemia had weakened her body so much that her undiagnosed sleep apnea claimed her life.

I took Rachel's cremains to the Pacific Ocean the next week on Halloween night, walked to the end of the Huntington Beach pier, and stood at the farthest point behind the restaurant, looking out to sea. When nobody was near, I scattered Rachel's ashes into the ocean below and dropped the urn into the water. As I stood at the edge of the railing, I contemplated my dismal future without Rachel. I had lost the only two women I had ever loved and could not see any reason to continue living. I cried silently and was startled when a hand softly touched my shoulder.

"Excuse me," the young man said. Hell, at my age, everyone is young.

"Are you Grandpa Jake?" He asked.

Too choked up to speak, I nodded my head yes. The young man's smile was ear to ear as he hugged me. He looked familiar, but I could not remember his name.

"Grandpa Jake, I'm Colt Taylor," he said. "You used to play catch with me when I was a little boy. My mother and I lived next door to you on Gardena Street.

"Colt!" I exclaimed. "My goodness, boy, how you have grown. What luck it is to see you after all these years. How long has it been, Colt?"

"It's been 21 years, sir," Colt said.

"Good grief!" I said. "Has it been that long?"

"Yes, sir," Colt said. "My mother married my stepfather, and we moved away after their wedding. "It's cold out here, and you must be freezing. The restaurant is still open. Let's get a cup of coffee and warm up."

Colt and I filled each other in about our lives for the past twenty-one years. When he asked why I was at the pier on Halloween night, I shared about Elizabeth and Rachel. It was fitting that the first and last time I saw Rachel was on Halloween night.