by Amy Harmon
The words came again. Gus said Johnny was…..alive? Johnny was here? With supreme effort, Maggie opened her eyes.
“Where is he?” she croaked. Her throat felt like it had been used to sand down an entire gymnasium floor. The pain shot through her and made her shudder and close her eyes once more. She opened them immediately and gazed at Gus. There was a flurry around her as a series of little beeps sounded and two nurses and one doctor came running. The patient was awake. Maggie endured the bustle, poking, prodding, and questions with as little movement and speech as possible. Irene was there, bursting in and rushing to Maggie’s bedside. Tears streaked down her soft cheeks. Shad was allowed a little later, but he hung back by the door. He stared at her wordlessly, but she could see the relief in his brown eyes, a relief that relaxed the tightness around his mouth and curved his lips into a small smile. She tried to smile back. Her lips were so dry she could only manage a grimace, so she raised her hand to give him a little wave. The motion caused a tug at her arm and she looked down at the I.V. stuck in her left wrist. It reminded her of the dream. She had been with Johnny, but he couldn’t see her. He had been driving Irene’s father’s car. He had smelled so good, and he was painfully real. The dream was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
“We’ll let you rest, dear. I can see that you’re still a little foggy.” Maggie realized that Irene was talking to her, and had been talking to her for several seconds. She looked at her aunt apologetically. Shad tipped his head in farewell and Irene and Gus began to follow him out.
“Gus!” Maggie’s raspy whisper rose from the bed, compelling him to wait.
“Go on. I’ll just be a minute,” Gus assured Irene. He waited until they left the room and the door swung closed behind them. He turned and looked at Maggie soberly.
“Johnny,” Maggie insisted, her eyes beseeching.
“He’s here. Down the hall, actually. He’s recovering from a gunshot wound to his chest. He’s pretty out of it. I don’t know if I can get you in to see him… but I promise you I’ll try. He’s got a sister…she’s looking out for him. I don’t know what she’s told the hospital staff.”
“A gunshot wound?” Maggie scraped out in horror. “Someone shot Johnny?” Then the rest of what Gus said registered in her wool-filled brain. “A sister?” Maggie rasped in disbelief.
“I never told you. I guess I just never thought about it. Chief Bailey and Dolly Kinross had a daughter. You know Principal Bailey?”
Maggie nodded her head, dumbfounded.
“They found him at the school, just lying in the rubble, right where the rotunda stood. He wasn’t burned or anything. He just had that wound, and he’d lost a lot of blood. Principal Bailey happened to be there when he was found, and she recognized him. I reckon she’s spent her whole life lookin’ for his face…and her poor momma before that. She’s pretty shaken up, but she’s a strong woman.” Gus wrung his hands, obviously missing the hat brim he usually abused.
“He’s really alive? He’s really here?” Maggie felt the realization rise up and tears spill over onto her cheeks.
“He really is, Miss Margaret. As God is my witness, he really is. Praise Jesus,” Gus marveled, shaking his head in wonder. “I ain’t never seen the like…”
~2~
And a Time to Every Purpose
2011
Everyone was calling him John Doe. He had stayed silent the first few times he had awakened. At first it was because he didn’t know where the hell he was. Shoot, he didn’t know WHO the hell he was. He had fallen back into oblivion before he’d had time to ponder anything at all. The next time he was awake for longer. The first thing he was truly aware of was pain. He hurt everywhere, like he had been run over by Gene’s tow truck. Gene. He remembered Gene. And little Harv. He’d drifted off to sleep not long after, reassured by the fact that he remembered something and someone. When he woke up again, a woman sat by his bed. The room was dark and no one but the two of them sat amid the bleeping machines that looked like the robots from one of the programs on the television Jimbo’s dad had purchased and now proudly displayed in his living room. Jimbo’s pop had positioned the set right in front of the windows so everyone who lived on the block would know he had a TV. He left the windows opened when he watched, and sometimes the kids playing ball in the street would abandon their games and listen outside. Johnny had been able to watch it a couple of times. Sometimes the whole neighborhood came over to watch the thing.
At first he thought the woman was his mother. As soon as the thought occurred to him, his mother’s face rose up in his mind. The glow of the lights was hardly sufficient to make out the woman’s features, but there was something very like his mother in the way she sat, her head nodding in sleep, her neck bowed gracefully in tired supplication. It wasn’t until a nurse came in and snapped on the light to check his vitals and poke at him that he saw that the woman was not his momma after all. She was wearing men’s pants, and her hair was styled in a boyish cut. The nurse also wore pants….when did that become the norm? Hmmm. He didn’t care for it. He had always kind of liked a nurse’s uniform; there was something sexy about it. The woman sleeping in the chair bolted straight up and met his gaze in alarm.
“You’re awake.” Her eyes shot to the nurse. The nurse didn’t seem too surprised by Johnny’s wakefulness and proceeded to ask him how he felt, if he struggled to breathe, if he thought he could sit up, and a million other mundane things. The nurse was young and pretty, and he smirked at her a little, testing her out. She raised one eyebrow at him disdainfully, and told him she was going to remove his catheter. With a toss of his covers, she unmanned him with a yank.
“Ouch!” Johnny roared. His manhood lay quivering for the lucky females in the room to enjoy. He jerked the blankets back over himself and glowered at the nurse, who fought a slight smile. Gee whiz. The woman had just grabbed his handle without batting an eye. She hadn’t even given him time to give her a better first impression. Ah well. She was too old for him. He liked them a little more timid anyway, didn’t he? Something nagged at him. A memory of someone…and then it was gone, dissolved into the muddle that clogged his heavy head. He was suddenly dizzy, and the woman who had been sleeping beside his bed jumped up to help him lie back. The nurse patted his leg. Oh, now she was being nice. Too late, sweetheart. She made a few notes and looked up at him again.
“The doctor will be in shortly. Do you think you can stay awake?” When he nodded, she walked out of the room without another word.
As soon as she was gone, the woman beside him began to speak.
“What’s your name?” Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of urgency in her tone that forced him to meet her sharp gaze.
“Johnny. Johnny Kinross.” It was out of his mouth before he realized that he even knew his name. Johnny. Yeah. That was it. Johnny Kinross. And his mom’s name was Dolly and his kid brother was Billy, and he had the coolest car in the county. And he needed a cigarette in the worst way.
A sharp breath hissed out her parted lips, and her hands gripped the rails on his bed tightly.
“Do you know why you’re here?” The urgency was more pronounced now, and Johnny tried to focus. His head had gained at least 100 pounds since he’d opened his eyes ten minutes ago. He was getting tired again. He focused on what she had asked him. He was obviously in a hospital. Some new-fangled fancy hospital, which looked like something from outer space. Maybe he wasn’t completely awake after all. Why was he here? His chest hurt like the dickens. He raised his left hand and fingered the bandages on his right shoulder.
“Did I get banged up at the rumble? Me and the guys were outnumbered pretty good.” Johnny grimaced, closing his eyes, trying to remember. “Roger Carlton is a snake….”
The woman beside the bed was very pale, and her hands had started to shake, making the bars rattle. She immediately let go and folded her arms tightly around herself.
“Do you remember anything after the…..the rumble?”
Jo
hnny shook his head a little, but his thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. The woman beside him looked as if she would faint where she stood. The doctor seemed to be talking to someone on the other side of the door and was delayed from entering. The woman crouched down very close to Johnny and whispered vehemently.
“Don’t tell him anything!” Her eyes were so wide they looked almost comical in her thin face. “Tell the doctor you don’t remember your name or anything about yourself or how you got hurt. I promise I’ll explain…”
The doctor walked into the room, and she ceased whispering abruptly. The doctor had obviously just come on shift. His hair was slightly damp and his cheeks were ruddy from a recent shave. He smelled like aftershave and antiseptic. A not unpleasant combination, Johnny found. He had a reassuring face and a kind demeanor as he inquired about Johnny’s pain levels and checked the wound at his shoulder. He had a chart that he studied for several minutes. When his eyes were averted the woman leaned forward again and this time took Johnny’s hand in hers. Her hand was small and as cold as ice. She squeezed his hand tightly, as if to remind him of what she had said. The doctor looked up again.
“What’s your name?”
***
Maggie was weak and sore, and too many people hovered and fussed. Irene, Shad, and Gus took turns entertaining her with one-sided conversation to give her smoke-charred throat continued time to heal. She was grateful, in spite of the pain, that she had an excuse to refrain from speech. If she could have, she would have howled with frustration at her weakened state and the conditions that kept her from seeing Johnny. Whenever she got him alone, Gus continued to make excuses as to why she couldn’t see Johnny. He told her Johnny was awake now, and reports were that he would make a full recovery. In fact, he was healing so rapidly, his doctors were amazed. When Maggie pressed Gus for more, he claimed he knew nothing. He told her no one except Principal Bailey, Gus, Maggie and Irene knew about Johnny’s identity. Shad had some memory of being rescued, but Gus had refrained from explaining anything to him. Gus reassured her that soon both she and Johnny would be released from the hospital, and she would be able to see him then.
“The fewer explanations that have to be given, the better,” Gus warned Maggie. “He can’t exactly tell everyone he’s Johnny Kinross. They’d think he was crazy. Mind you, they’d think all of us are crazy. The best thing we can do for him is to let Principal Bailey do the talkin’ and just stay silent and not draw attention to him. She’s been around the system long enough to know what strings to pull – workin’ with kids as long as she has. She’s gonna coach him through, don’t you worry.”
And so Maggie waited. Three days after she had awakened from her coma, she could wait no longer. That night she bided her time until the nurse on the night shift left her desk. She had been checked on mere minutes before – at night the staff was much more laid back, the rounds fewer and farther between. She figured she would have sufficient time to see Johnny, talk to him, reassure him, and make it back to her room without detection.
Gus had told her what room Johnny was in. She had wheedled it out of him, promising that she would wait for his go ahead. She was breaking her promise. She just couldn’t wait any more. She had to see him for herself. She’d had the sneaking fear that it was all just a grand story to pull her back among the living. She was certain that when she was sufficiently healed, Gus would confess that he had concocted the tale for her own good. She had accused him of as much; that accusation finally convinced Gus to tell her where Johnny was recovering. It was only four doors down.
Her heart in her throat, Maggie padded down the hall in bare feet, a robe Irene had brought from home wrapped around her flimsy hospital gown. She had brushed her hair and teeth, but she knew her blue eyes looked too big in her face and her skin was too pale in the fluorescent lights. Nerves skittered under her skin. Johnny was free now. He could go anywhere and do anything. Would he want to be with her still? Would he look at her straight brown hair and big glasses and think he could do so much better than a girl like Maggie? She squared her shoulders and shook off the self-doubt. The door to his room pushed open easily. The bed was perpendicular to the door, and the curtain was partially pulled at the head, making it impossible to see who occupied the space. Maggie froze.
“Johnny?” she whispered. Her heart was pounding so loudly she doubted she would hear him if he responded. “Johnny? Are you awake?” She forced her feet forward and approached the base of his bed. The bed squeaked suddenly, causing her to yelp. Maggie could see that the person occupying it struggled to sit up. A whirring sound commenced and the bed moved, the upper half lifting and halting in an upright position. She still couldn’t see his face; the hanging curtain blocked her view from mid-chest up. She tiptoed to the side of the bed and, holding her breath, looked down into his face.
She had wondered if she would be able to see him with her glasses on, or if, like before, he would be visible only when she took them off. However, even with her glasses perched in their usual position on her small nose, Johnny was crystal clear. His hair was pushed off his face, like he had run his hands through it repeatedly. She was a little shocked to see him looking less than perfect – he had never had even a stray hair before. Now it stood up in little tufts at his crown, and his face was creased from sleeping. But that face…it was the same. The same strong jaw and well-formed lips, the same slashing brows and perfect nose. The same piercing blue eyes. Those eyes regarded her now as she regarded him. For a moment, gazing down at his beloved face, she forgot her awkwardness and fear, and she drank him in, every precious detail. She felt her face split into a grin so wide that her dry, cracked lips protested painfully. She pressed her hands to them to ease the sharp pain and soothe their sudden trembling. A sob tore from her throat, and Maggie wondered briefly at the unpredictability of female emotion – smiling like an idiot one moment and holding back sobs the next. She fell to her knees beside the bed and pressed her face against the arm that was unencumbered by his I.V. For several long moments she cried, resting her face against his warm skin and pressing soft kisses into his palm. He made no move to pull away and said nothing but sat silently as she eventually calmed the storm of tears and spoke again.
“Johnny?” She spoke again, her voice shaking with emotion. “You’re here. I thought I had lost you.” She gripped his arm and raised her eyes to his once more. Slowly, Maggie’s euphoria drenched senses started registering several things at once. First, Johnny didn’t seem overjoyed to see her. Second, his stare wasn’t hostile…but it was guarded and very tense, his lips pressed into a tight line, a deep groove between his brows. She could tell he was waiting for her to continue.
“Johnny?” This was the third time she had spoken his name in the very same manner, but he had yet to move or respond. Something was very wrong. Maggie’s hands fell to her sides. She backed away a step. His eyes stayed fixed on her face as he watched her retreat. Maggie felt the tears well up in her eyes again, but this time for an entirely different reason. This wasn’t the reunion she had imagined.
The door behind Maggie swung open suddenly, and Maggie turned guiltily, coming face to face with Principal Bailey. Maggie couldn’t see her expression; the light behind her threw shadows across her face as she halted in the doorway, clearly surprised to find Maggie in the room. Jillian Bailey looked beyond Maggie to Johnny, lying as still as a corpse, watching the drama unfolding in front of him. She looked back at Maggie, and then leaned over and turned on the light, illuminating the room in a wash of fluorescent white.
“Hello Margaret,” Principal Bailey said in her very official school administrator’s voice.
“Principal Bailey,” Maggie responded, equally deferential and polite. She tried not to hunch or reach up to wipe her eyes or rub the tear streaks from her cheeks. Doing so would only draw attention to them and further alert the woman of her distress. Jillian Bailey’s eyes ran from the top of Maggie’s head to her colorfully painted toes. Shad had insisted on pain
ting them purple, gold and green, in honor of the Lakers, and not only was he horrible at staying within the lines, the colors made her toenails look like he had beaten them with a hammer. She curled her toes self-consciously.
“Have a seat, Margaret…or should I call you Maggie?” Principal Bailey’s voice had softened, and Maggie was suddenly certain that the woman didn’t miss much. She nodded her head toward a chair not far from Johnny’s bed and pulled another from the wall, creating an intimate little half circle with the bed. Maggie looked down at her toes, wishing this episode of the Twilight Zone was over. She sat primly on the edge of the chair and folded her hands in her lap, locking her fingers tightly to keep them from shaking.
“Maggie would be fine,” Maggie replied belatedly, as Principal Bailey slid into the chair beside her. Maggie stole another look at Johnny, but his face looked carved in stone, his hands lying loosely on the blankets in front of him. What was going on?? Maggie suddenly wanted to shake him or pull at his rumpled hair, anything to shake the frozen look from his face.
“Johnny, this is Margaret O’Bannon – Maggie,” Principal Bailey said briskly. “She’s recovering from the fire as well. She’s a senior at Honeyville High School this year and a very accomplished dancer.” Maggie’s head started to spin. Why was Principal Bailey acting like it wasn’t one o’clock in the morning in a hospital room, like Maggie hadn’t been caught somewhere she had no logical reason to be, and acting like Johnny Kinross was a new student in need of someone to show him to his homeroom class?
“Maggie,” she continued, “This is Johnny – “
“I know who he is!” Maggie interrupted sharply, her eyes flashing to meet Jillian Bailey’s startled gaze. “You know that, don’t you? I know exactly who he is.” Maggie lifted her chin stubbornly and crossed her arms. Enough of this charade.