Another on her left hand, where the ring should go.
They take her again,for more scans.
More waiting.
I pace the hall, restless.
I hear a wail, a scream and a sob.
I run back to the waiting room, and the doctor is there, the same stern, compassionate, composed doctor who delivered the news. He’s rubbing a fore knuckle under his eyes.
Sherri is being held up by Charlie, and Grandma is beside her, rubbing her back. Macy is crying. Bethany.
I just stand near them and stare.
Charlie grabs me by the shirt and roughly yanks me close. “It’s gone.” His voice is a ragged, broken whisper. “It’s gone. Totally gone.”
I can’t comprehend what he means.
Neither can he, I think.
“She’s back in her room. She hasn’t woken up yet, but I think she will soon.” The doctor sounds…I’m not sure there are words in any language to capture the complexity in his voice. “I’m a doctor. I believe in science. But…sometimes, you just have no choice but to believe in miracles. And this is one of them.”
I stagger out of the group hug, lurch and lumber to her room.
My legs weigh a million pounds.
When did I last sleep? Or eat?
I’ve had more coffee than any one human being should consume, probably.
None of that matters.
It’s gone?
I crumple to my knees beside her bed.
She doesn’t look different.
Less pale, maybe.
Her chest rises, falls.
I settle her hand over mine. “Jo?”
A finger twitches.
“Jo?” My voice cracks. “They say it’s gone. A miracle, like your grandma prayed for.”
Another twitch, a finger tightening against my hand.
“Come back to me, Jo.”
Twitch, and then another finger twitches.
“That’s it, honey.” I kiss her hand, careful to avoid the IV insertion near her wrist. “Come back to me. I love you, Jo. Wake up and…and when you’re better, we’re going to get married. In our backyard. You and your parents and your grandma—I’ve adopted her as my grandma, too, by the way—and Macy and Beth. They’ve been here the whole time. Beth has played you all the latest TikTok videos. Yours still holds the record, though, so don’t worry.”
Twitch, and then her whole hand squeezes. “Yeah, that’s right. You and me, babe. We’re gonna get married. You want to change your name? Become Mrs. Jolene Britton? Or, you could hyphenate. Jolene Park-Britton. Or just keep yours. Whatever makes you happy.”
