Jack wasn’t sure what expression he was supposed to be wearing, a concern so trivial compared to the day’s other worries that he might have laughed if he’d had the heart. And that was the issue, really. Should he show the fear consuming him or project an optimism that everything would be fine? Anna’s parents slowly paced back and forth nearby in the Intensive Care Unit of Shady Grove Hospital. Maybe they could have used some faith from him, as theirs was clearly rattled. But then he would have been faking it. Was he supposed to do it anyway? Would reflecting their worry on his own face make theirs boil over into tears so that his presence wasn’t helpful?
They had known him for years. And since the accident—well, the first one on I-270 with their daughter—he had talked to them several times. He had tried to find the exact spot where the crash happened and hang out somewhere nearby with a view of it, waiting for the moment Anna reappeared, but the police were sometimes called, making him leave. It was unfeasible anyway. He couldn’t just stay there all day, and being on the road was impossible. Crazy ideas like getting a jackhammer and destroying the pavement so that cones were up for a week and blocking the lane had gone through his head, but he didn’t even know which lane she’d been in. Now it didn’t seem so crazy after all. He’d woken this morning to the news on TV.
Anna was out of surgery, but the ICU staff hadn’t let them see her yet. She was still unconscious. Jack wasn’t sure what was more devastating—the concern about when she might wake up, or that she was paralyzed. Her mother had asked how they could know that if Anna wasn’t awake to try moving, but they knew from the spinal damage and the way her body failed to react to stimuli. Bleakness threatened to consume Jack except that his mind kept going to those reports that had been going on around the world, of people having the ability to heal. There had to be a way to get her in front of someone like that. Whatever it took. Ryan would pay for it, he was sure, if he had to.
Suddenly he wondered if those people were being hounded with requests for healing by the rich and famous, whether to cure their cancer or something else. Were they as sought after as the Stonehenge Four? The media crush outside had been easy for him to dodge with a side door because no one knew who he was. Not until getting to the ICU did he have any trouble, with police and stern-looking agents from one agency or another trying to bar his way until Anna’s parents let him through. The FBI had briefly interviewed him days earlier as a kind of character witness and friend of Anna’s, asking about her politics, and he assumed that’s who these people were.
Now he sat out of sight from them, overhearing Anna’s father suggest to his wife that they go downstairs to the chapel. As they departed, Jack wondered what Anna would think of her parents praying for her. Was she still an atheist after her new ability to call on gods on other worlds? Would she be pleased or annoyed with her parent’s decision? He knew she hadn’t been able to heal here on Earth, but would it work now? What if she could finally call on God and just heal herself, then walk out of here? These thoughts gave Jack hope, and he wished he could tell her parents something to give them the same, and so he sat in turmoil in the waiting area, lost in thought and wondering where the others were. He hadn’t had a chance to call without being overheard. He knew he would have to tell them what was happening because they’d never make it past the media or authorities.
An Asian nurse stopped before him and said, “I’m sorry, I forgot your name?”
“Jack,” he said, rising. “Is there news?”
The woman smiled. “Yes. Anna is awake. She has been for a few minutes and the doctors are talking to her now. I know you’re a friend of the family, so you should be able to see her shortly. Are her parents still here?”
“Yeah, they went to the chapel.”
“Okay. I can call down for them.” She turned to go as relief consumed Jack, but then he saw several doctors and nurses exit a room, and the woman turned back. “Oh, I think they’re done. Come on over and let me check.”
Before he really collected himself, she showed Jack into Anna’s room. Light streamed in from outside to fall on a yellow, upholstered chair, causing a mild golden hue to light the white walls. White and blue cabinets and closets lined one wall, an open door to the bathroom off to one side. In the center lay her wide bed, the curtain pulled back to reveal the occupant and all the outlets for wall attachments, many plugged into a machine on either side of the bed. A sheet and yellow blanket were pulled up to Anna’s chest as she lay nearly flat, her upper body raised a little. An IV was in the one arm not in a cast, an ID badge around the wrist.
For a moment, he hesitated at the door, but then he saw her open eyes blink and a sudden desire to rush over brought him to her bedside. This time a smile came naturally because he was so happy that she was at least awake. With an effort, he tried to ignore the bandages around her head, the cuts on her face, the casts on her legs and one arm, and the noises of machines beside the bed.
“Hey,” he whispered, leaning over her partially swollen
