Page 65 of The Cannon
“Anne. I’ve been looking for you all my life. I never forgot you.” He chokes the words out.
Her answer is a vigorous nodding and a squeeze of his hand. She lifts it to her lips and does what she can to give a pretend kiss. Then she rests it against her face.
“Do you have the hankies?” he says to me.
I get them from my purse. One for him and one for myself.
“Here.”
He dabs first Anne’s face and then his own.
“I’m pretty sure last time we were together there were tears too.”
Anne points to her side table where a pad and pen lay.
“You want to write?”
She nods and takes ahold of them as they’re passed. Balancing the pad on her lap she slowly works on writing the message with her left hand. She turns it to face Sawyer.
Cried for you.
Sawyer nods, presses his lips together, then kisses her hand again.
“Me too. For you.”
Then he turns to me and for the first time since we got here, smiles.
“This is Bristol. I told you about her. Bristol, this is my beautiful sister, Anne.”
Anne’s eyes roll to the heavens, contradicting her brother’s assessment of her current look.
Moving closer to her bed I lightly touch her hand, but in response she squeezes mine. And her eyes are smiling behind the tears.
“I’d like to speak with your doctors, Anne. I’d like Bristol to speak with them too. She’s a physician herself. A pediatrician.”
Anne looks at me and nods her head.
“Good,” Brick says. “I want to help you in any way I can. We can start with this. I’d like to have you moved to another facility. A better one. You think that’s a good idea?”
Quickly she writes her response.
Please! When?
“There’s two places you need to see. We brought a few brochures for you to look at. Bristol offered to speak to the management of both places if you want.”
Anne nods her head and her eyes shimmer through the tears.
“But there’s a third option you should consider. I think it’s the best one, but the decision is yours.”
There’s question in her expression.
“You could go home.”
We let the idea settle for a moment. She raises a palm and a line forms between her brows.
“We could hire round the clock nurses, a physical therapist and coordinate with the doctors about your appointments.”
She starts to cry. Hard. It freaks out Sawyer, who anticipated only joy. But I get it. They’re tears of joy and appreciation.
