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............Part
Eight........,
Roy slid bonelessly to the floor as the news was relayed. "....no...." he whispered.
"I'm sorry," Dixie said, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Last I heard she was going into surgery --- but that was awhile ago..."
Brackett rounded the corner and heard that. "She's out," he said. "She's comatose, but she's out of surgery. Now we just have to wait and see."
****
One by one, her friends slid in to see her. She heard their voices, but couldn't respond. She just could not seem to wake up.
Johnny heard the news through the hospital grapevine. The name -- the face --- it was his only clear true memory. He HAD to see her... he HAD to figure out what was going on.
Late that night, he slid out of bed and padded -- IV pole and all -- into her room. Dixie had talked Roy into a late night meal. Joanne was alone in the room.
Johnny sat by her bed and watched her. Yes...it was bruised and battered, but it was the face from his memory. He touched her unmarred cheek, and whispered, "Joanne..."
That voice....she knew that voice....she knew it as well as she knew her husband's....
"Joanne, it's Johnny. I... I don't remember much of anything...but somehow I know you're important to me. I ... I miss you. Please wake up....I need you to help me find me...find US..."
A tear slid from her closed eye. She felt his calloused but gentle hands brush it away.
With a Herculean effort, she forced her eyes open. She mouthed words around the small tube in her throat. John...Beloved...
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