Death Bed Confession

Jake was dying. His wife, Deana, 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.

 "Deana my darling,"

 he whispered.

 "Hush my love," she said. "Rest, don't talk."

 He was insistent. "Deana," he said in his tired voice, "I have

 something that I must confess."

 "There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Deana. "Everything's

 all right. Go to sleep."

 "No, no. I must die in peace, Deana. I ... I slept with your sister,

 your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!"

 I know, sweetheart," whispered Deana. "Let the poison work.