I kiss the back of her hand again, the freckle there.
“Britton,” I hear. It’s a hoarse whisper. “Jolene Britton.”
Her eyes are open, green and beautiful.
“Hi,” I murmur. “Hi.”
She squeezes my hand. “You sang to me.”
I nod.
“I heard it.” Her eyes close, as if she’s still so tired, so weak, that whispering and keeping her eyes open takes enormous effort. “It drew me back to you.”
I sob. “You’re okay.”
She opens her eyes again. “For real?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Okay, like…I’m not going to die?”
I nod again. “They…they scanned you like a dozen times. Recalibrated the machine. I think they even sent you to a different hospital and a different machine, at some point.” I swallow hard. “It’sgone.”
She just stares at me. “Say—” she swallows hard. “Say that again.”
“Your leukemia is gone, Jo.”
“Gone?”
“Gone.”
“How?”
I shrug. “No one knows.” I smile. “Your grandma may, though.”
She closes her eyes. “Yeah, I bet she does.”
“I prayed for you…at least, I think it was praying. I don’t know.”
She squeezes my hand in reply. Then, with obvious effort, she opens her eyes. “I love you, Westley.”
“Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”
“Good.” Her eyes search me, green and fiery with love. “I want to be Jolene Britton. I want to be your wife.”
I have the ring in my hip pocket. I pull it out. Hold the tiny warm circle on my palm.
When she sees it, her eyes widen. She recognizes it immediately. “Grandma’s ring?”
I nod. Hold the circle between finger and thumb. “Jolene, I love you. Marry me. As soon as you can leave this hospital, marry me. Please.”
She chokes a sob, nodding. Holds her left hand out to me. “Hey, I asked you first.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, throat thick, eyes burning. “Yeah, you did.”
Her eyes slide closed. “Staying awake is…hard.” She manages to open one eye. “Can I see my mom? And the others?”
“Yeah, of course.”
