How Sweet It Is - Alice J. Wisler [65]
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Jonas lies sleeping on a sterile bed of white, his heart monitored by a green humming machine. Where his bandana is usually tied, is a large gauze bandage. His face is pale; an IV feeds into his arm.
Regena Lorraine pats his other arm and says, “Jonas, this is no place for you.”
I suppose she hopes this line will cause him to pop open his eyes and jump off the bed. He does neither.
I watch the squiggly lines move across the machine. I never know what to call this piece of equipment, although Sally has supplied me with the proper term many times.
Flashbacks of my days at the Atlanta Medical Center come to me. I woke up alone in my hospital room and for a second felt nothing but calm. I thought I must have died and that this was heaven. Then a nurse entered and suddenly the horror of what had happened crept in around me. I asked if Lucas was all right; I was so naïve.
The door swings open; Zack enters the room. In his typical style, he smiles at my aunt and me.
“How is he?” Regena Lorraine whispers. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her whisper before.
“Still unconscious.”
“Has he been conscious any since he fell?”
Zack shakes his head.
I know Zack must be thinking of the girlfriend he lost. His parents died within months of each other when he was nineteen. His father was in a logging accident and then his mother had a massive heart attack. In this whole world, Zack’s only close relative is his brother. I want to wrap my arms around Zack and give him a hug. Me—the one who lately has made it a priority to avoid him.
Zack says, “Dr. Martin said they should have the results of the MRI soon. I was just talking with him.”
“What are they afraid of?” My aunt is bold to ask.
Zack speaks from dry lips. His words come out shaky. “Bleeding on his brain.”
We stand in silence, and then my aunt says she must go. She promised to bring dinner over to Butterfly Ormandy, a woman who just had knee surgery. “I hate to leave,” she tells us apologetically as she places her tote bag over her shoulder. “But I promised I’d help out with a meal, and this woman was a dear friend of Ernest’s.”
We tell her that we understand. Zack offers to drive me home later.
“Butterfly was there for me when I went through a cold, lonely time,” my aunt says.
I nod and think how nice it is that my aunt has such good friends, even if they do have the most peculiar names.
thirty
A tall nurse with stunning features enters Jonas’s room. I bet every man loves to have her as his nurse. I note her blue eyes and the thick blond hair dangling over her back. She even smells good, like the roses on our farm in Tifton after a rainstorm. Jonas needs to wake up so that he can admire her, maybe even sing her a few lines from the Eagles. If only he knew what an opportunity he’s missing.
The door flies open; a young doctor bounds into the room with the vivaciousness of Giovanni, a chart under his arm. I sense Zack’s discomfort as the nurse and doctor talk quietly and briefly, hovering at the foot of Jonas’s bed.
The doctor looks over Jonas’s chart and then turns to Zack. “Your brother’s test results should be back soon.” With a pat to Zack’s shoulder, the doctor leaves as energetically as he entered. I wonder what kind of vitamins he takes.
When the nurse finishes taking Jonas’s temperature, Zack pulls over a stool for me to sit on. He sits on a matching stool close to the head of his brother’s bed. He takes his eyes away from Jonas to look at me. “Thanks for coming.”
“He is going to be okay.” I hope I sound certain, but my shaking knees belie the words.
“He would do anything for anyone.” There is admiration in Zack’s voice.
“He’s a lot like you, then,” I say with feeling. Here I am, the Queen of Avoidance, vowing to keep away from this man, and suddenly, I am letting my heart speak for me.
Zack says, “I don’t know if that’s always true.”
“Oh, it is.”
“I balk at being inconvenienced as much as the next person.”
“You’re always there for the kids.”
“Yeah, but if you look at me real close,