––––––––
Susan hoped she hadn't gasped out loud. No. Perhaps she was dreaming. He didn't say he was in love with her. No. She would have known. She was so confused. "I remember when Brandon introduced you to me. We were at McDonald's. We were in line behind you and Brandon said something to you, you turned around and spilled your Coke on me."
"No, long before that. At the awards ceremony when Brandon received his medal. Across the room. I saw the most incredible eyes. Crayon blue. And your hair and your face and that was it. I fell hard."
Susan's mind filled with rapid-fire photos of Johnny. Him helping them move into their house. Johnny putting the angel on the tree at Christmas. Lifting her onto his boat. Holding the door open. Always telling her how great she looked. He always seemed to be taking his shirt off...
Johnny sat up. He threw the pillow over his shoulder. It knocked into the sconce over the night stand and fell onto the other bed. "Well?" He was waiting for her to say I love you, too. I've always loved you. Marry me. Now. Tonight.
"Really?" She smiled. "Really? Am I why you never got married and settled down?" She was shocked. And embarrassed and flattered.
He exhaled. "Thank God. You understand. How could I marry anyone, when my heart beats for you?" He frowned at his words, they sounded so lame. He felt like he was blowing it.
"Did Brandon know?"
"You think I'm that stupid? He would never have let me near you."
Laughter in the hallway and knocking on a distant door gave the couple time to absorb the moment.
Johnny demanded, "Well?"
Susan didn't know what to say.
"I just took a giant leap of...of...of love. And you have no comment?"
"If you love me the way you say you do, why won't you let me be altruistic and help the little boy live?" She kicked her way out of the tightly tucked white sheets that glowed in the dark.
Johnny couldn't help but stare in awe at her soft white thighs as her nightgown rode up, giving a peek at her pink satin panties.
Susan stumbled out of bed and over to the window.
He said, "Because I love you. And I want you whole and I'm not ashamed to admit it."
"You love me and want me whole?" she yelled. "What, a scar would make me un-love-able? What kind of sick fantasy do you have?" She crossed her arms over her breasts.
Johnny's voice cracked. But nothing intelligible came out. He threw back the covers she'd tangled him in and stomped over to her. He glowered down at the street. Empty. Not one person or moving vehicle. "Look at me," he demanded.
She did. She saw his thick curly lashes blinking out thunderous tears.
Johnny said, "I don't want you to have to go through the trauma of the surgery and the healing and regeneration. And the pain. And the danger. Nothing is one hundred percent safe, you know. What about post op infections? And unknown complications and surgical misadventures? Don't you understand, girl, I can't lose you, too," he pleaded.
Susan felt bad. Really bad for the twisted accusation. She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. She heard Johnny slam his fist into a wall.
Racing back out, she shoved tissues in his face. Crying herself, she fought to dry his tears.
He yelled, "Stop it. Stop it now," and pushed away from her reach, stomped over to his bed, picked the pillow up, and flung himself onto the mattress. He rolled and turned toward the wall.
Susan went weak at the knees and slumped down to the harlequin patterned hotel carpet. She cried and ached and gasped, but the only sound she harkened was that of Johnny's heart breaking.
* * * *
Johnny gave up on sleep. His body was accustomed to being up and down at night, sometimes not dozing at all if they had a lot of runs. So he could function without slumber.
Susan lay quietly on the floor near the window.
He tiptoed over to where the most beautiful girl, the most beautiful unattainable girl in the world slept. She looked like a goddess. Her hair splayed around her head. Her little delicate hands folded prayer like. Her knees bent up, hidden in a swirl of pink flannel. He ripped a soft brown blanket off her bed and gently fluffed it over her, tucking it in around her lovely body.
Johnny pulled on socks and sneakers before heading down to the hotel gym. He set the treadmill on manual and ran on a steep incline. Staring at the infomercial on the TV hung high in front of him, all he saw was the girl of his dreams walking out of his life.
An attractive bottled-blond woman, the staff personal trainer, handed him a lavender towel. Johnny snatched it and wiped his drenched head.
She said, "You've got some stamina there."
He slammed his palm on the stop button. "Yeah, too bad she'll never know."
"Huh?"
He looked at her. "Nothin'."
She offered a towel to a woman on an elliptical machine.
Johnny leaned over the handlebars. He stared at the oak hardwood floor. He thought about all of the girls...women he'd had. They were just a means to an end. A means of practicing and learning and experimenting and holding back, until he could have his Susan. He would be every man to her. In every way. He'd teach her things and take her places she didn't know existed. He'd revel in her ecstasy.
Johnny returned to their room. She was still sleeping. He showered and dressed in his only suit. It was black. He buttoned up a white shirt and pulled a black silk tie tight. He ran gel through his recently cut auburn hair and quietly left the room.
* * * *
Susan felt sunshine on her face. She heard the rumble of morning commuters on the street below and the banging of hotel room doors. She squinted. Her eyes hurt. She remembered crying herself to sleep. She sat up and stared at the blanket and noticed he had covered her up. He couldn't be that mad then. Yes, he could. He could be mad but still take care of her, that's what lovers did.
Susan flashed back to Johnny kissing her cheek that day they finished framing the basement. And how she had felt uncomfortable. Then all the times he'd effortlessly hoisted her by the waist into his boat. The touch of his strong hands. And all the times he took his shirt off. She had enjoyed glimpsing his biceps, triceps, deltoids, pecs, eight-pack and just the right amount of chest hair, maneuvering down into his jeans. And he fit perfectly into his size thirty-two by thirty-four Levi's. And then she remembered sexual dream she'd had of Johnny.
They were walking on a beach and went into a newly constructed house. Johnny said he knew the owners. The man and woman greeted them. She and Johnny proceeded into the living room. The others stayed in the kitchen. Johnny kissed her. He gently laid her on the Persian rug and began moving rhythmically on top of her body. They were both wearing shorts. He slipped his fingers inside the leg of her shorts and teased her until she was foaming. He stretched the left leg of his shorts and pulled his erection through. He moved the fabric of her shorts enough to allow him entrance. There they were. With people a few feet away in the next room. They were making love, fully clothed. She could feel the hot pleasurable weight of his body on top of hers. And the might of him inside of her.
She had woken up during an orgasm. A powerful shuddering. She'd never experienced an actual orgasm during sleep before. She didn't know it was possible. Guilt ridden, she washed her sheets. She had washed her late husband right out of her bed.
* * * *
Susan heard the keycard in the hotel room door. She leapt up and threw the blanket onto the bed.
Johnny stomped in with a Styrofoam cup. He didn't meet her gaze. He set the cup on top of the dresser. "Hot coffee for you." He flopped down on his bed and flipped on the morning news.
She noticed his suit. "Thanks." Susan retrieved the cup and removed the lid. She blew on it, then tasted a scalding sip of cloudy ambition. She stood in front of the TV, trying to catch his eye.
He cocked his head to the side. "Do you mind? I can't see."
Susan pivoted around and pushed the power button. The TV turned off. Johnny turned it back on with the remote. She strode over to him and yanked it out of his hand. She clicked it off.
"About last night..." Nausea fought with her embarrassment.
"Forget the foolish talk. Never happened."
Susan placed her coffee cup on the bedside table. She sat on her bed and faced him. "Nothing foolish was said...by you, that is. I was the fool. I'm so sorry for hurting you, Johnny."
"Don't you apologize. I said forget about it."
"Johnny, Brandon...he pulled me out of a fire. The night my momma died. I was seventeen. He saved my life, gave me love, and married me. I've never even dated as an adult. I don't know how to act."
"What are you sayin'?" He snarled, crossing his ankles and arms.
"I'm saying I had no idea how you felt. I thought you were being nice to me because of Brandon, because you're a nice guy."
"Nice guys finish in the gutter."
"Stop. Stop that."
"You had no idea I had feelings for you? Oh...okay, so that makes sense then, because you'd never consider me datable."
"Not when I was married. Of course not. I put the blinders on the moment I knew Brandon was the one. But...but since he's been gone, well, I didn't really let myself register that you were...you were...well...a man."
"Oh, now that really makes me feel better, Susan. I'm just like your neighbor boys then. That's all I am to you?"
"No, Johnny! Stop talking, will you? This is hard enough for me to say because I've never admitted it to myself."
"Admitted what? That never in a million years could you summon up any feelings to make love with the likes of me?"
"We already have made love...in my dreams."
He swallowed. "What?"
"I said I had a dream about you. It was so real. I felt the weight of your body on top of mine."
"So you're saying you dreamt I was too fat?"
"No, will you stop talking? It was a very good feeling. So good a feeling, it was I guess like when guys have wet dreams. That never happened to me before."
He stood up. She stood up.
Susan asked, "Well?" She was blushing.
"I'm not supposed to speak."
"Go ahead. Now I'm the one that said the foolish things. Let me have it."
"So I'm only good for a fantasy, you don't really need me in the flesh."
"Johnny, I washed my sheets the next morning. It was symbolic, I knew at the time, but didn't really understand."
"Okay, Dr. Phil-omena, what was it symbolic of, this wet dream of yours?"
"Stop it. You are embarrassing me."
"Sorry." He swallowed hard.
"I separated myself from my late-husband that day. I guess maybe I was symbolically readying myself to get into your bed."
"Don't go saying things like that. Do you know how many times I've slept with you, only you weren't the woman actually in my bed?"
Susan felt really embarrassed and a little queasy at the vivid picture that painted. After a long pause, she quietly said, "Those poor girls."
He smiled. "No, they were well attended to. I didn't scream out Layla or anything."
Susan smiled. "Layla. Eric Clapton in love with his best friend, George Harrison's wife."
"Yes, you finally get it. Thank you." He sighed.
Susan glanced at the clock radio. 8:49 a.m. "Oh, we've gotta get down to Bush General Hospital. I want to be first in line. I'll bet the hospital is inundated with fans to be tested. The girls and guy in the online loops are really devoted to him. I've got to go and get a fast shower. You look really handsome, by the way. Too bad you chose to be a fireman. You'd be a really hot stock broker." The tension in the air evaporated.
"I didn't choose to be a fireman. My calling. And so you're sayin' I'm not handsome in my turn-out gear, helmet, and facemask?"
"I've never seen you in action." Susan started for her suitcase.
"Oh, I can't wait until you see me in action."
She hoped he didn't notice how high her eyebrows arched. "Well you have to wait, we need to hurry up." She proceeded toward the bathroom. He caught her wrist and drew her back.
He said, "Not so fast. We can't just leave this...this Layla moment un...un..."
"Unrequited? Unconsummated?"
"Yeah. What you said."
"Kiss me."
"You're sure?"
"Oh, yeah..."
He guided her closer, then leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. She turned her head and slammed her lips onto his. He lifted her off the floor and lay sideways across his bed with her.
Susan was scared. Of the unknown. She understood she wasn't with Brandon and she wasn't feeling guilty. These were new, uncharted lips. Full, hot, sensual lips. He didn't kiss like Brandon did. Of course he didn't. He was Johnny. Different, very different, in an intoxicating way. With her eyes shut tightly, she ran her fingers over his face. His chin, his nose, eyes and ears.
He grasped her left hand and gently twisted her thin gold wedding band. Susan drew her mouth away. Balancing on an elbow, she placed her ring finger inside Johnny's mouth and closed her eyes. Johnny suckled her finger. He ran his strong hot tongue the length of it, swirling and nibbling. It tickled and enlivened her body. He gently placed his teeth at the terminus of her hand, just behind her wedding ring. They opened their eyes.
She saw something in his that was totally new. And very, very electrifying. She gradually withdrew her finger from his mouth, allowing him to orally slide the ring off. Johnny lay Brandon's wedding ring on the nightstand. Susan shuddered. Giving up the ghost.
Johnny asked, "Are you all right? I...hadn't planned to do that, it was just..."
"It was time. And absolutely appropriate." She swallowed hard and slid her hand to his coat button.
He stopped her. "No. Let's leave it here. This was a very big deal, what just happened. That was one hell of a kiss. Perfect to remember the moment by. And I will remember it forever, sweetheart."
Susan's eyes were damp. "As will I."
"Go, get your shower. We have people waiting to poke and prod us. They're waiting."
Susan nodded and ran into the bathroom.
* * * *
The hospital was eight city blocks from the hotel, so they opted to hoof it. Johnny regretted wearing his black dress shoes, but hey, blisters happen.
The gravity of the situation hit him when they saw the Texas Rangers' check point outside the main lobby entrance. "Wow, would you look at that? All those fans. I guess this guy must have touched a lot of people with his music. There must be about..." He picked a section of women and counted heads, multiplying it by five. "I'd say there's easily a hundred and eighty people here."
Susan said, "Let's get in line." They wandered up to the rear of the crowd. She asked a middle-aged woman in a red cowgirl hat, "Is this the end of the donor line?"
"Huh? Donor line?"
"For little Adam Wright, Junior."
"This is the receiving line, honey. Mister Wright might come out at any moment. He's in there. Make sure the battery in your camera is good. I lost mine on the way from the bus. Freddie was sweet enough to hold my place while I ran to the convenience store on the corner. They didn't have one, but the grocery store did."
"You mean all these people...fans...are just here to take pictures of Mister Wright?" How horrible.
"Yeah, they let the media in the lobby. Us lowly fans have to stand out here in the tumbleweeds. Ain't fair."
"But don't you all want to see if you can match Adam, Junior's blood type well enough to donate a lobe of your liver and save his life?"
The woman looked at Susan as if she were an alien. "No. You have a problem with that, chicky?"
Johnny pulled Susan back. "Come on. Let's go talk to the cop." He pulled and pushed Susan through the crowd of mostly pork fed middle-aged women. He mumbled over his shoulder, "Jeeze, I've never seen such a unanimously ugly bunch of heifers in my life."
Susan hollered, "What?"
Johnny just shook his head. He finally wove up to a female Texas Ranger. She didn't look like the fans. He smiled at her and adjusted his tie. She twisted a loose strand of strawberry-blond hair and leaned in over the blinking light of the sawhorse barricade.
"Officer, we have appointments to be tested as potential donors for the Wright boy."
"Your names?"
"John Newman and Susan Cervini."
The copper squeezed her lapel mike and conferred with her collar. Soon she told them, "All right, step over the barricade."
A voice in the wilderness yelled out, "Hey, no fair. How come they get to go in?"
* * * *
Susan and Johnny took the elevator to the fourth floor and checked in at the nurses' station. The unit secretary knew nothing about screening donors for Adam Wright, Junior, so she told them to have a seat. They did.
Susan removed Melody's photograph from her purse. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"
Johnny took the photo and smiled. He looked at Susan. A blonde, huh? Looks like she had blue eyes, 'cause they're red."
"Yes, red from the flash. We both have blue eyes."
"Crayon blue like yours?"
"No. Melody's are gray-blue."
"You should show that around. Maybe she came to donate...or take pictures."
"No, Melody wouldn't be taking pictures. She would definitely donate. And I'll bet she's here right now." Susan approached the nurses' station and showed the photo to the two haggard looking women in perky yellow scrubs.
Johnny looked around. He noticed a familiar man walking down the corridor. He tried getting Susan's attention.
"Psst...Susan...Psst."
The man stopped at the nurses' station. "I'm gonna run home and have lunch with the boys. If anything—"
"We've got your cell phone number, Mister Wright."
Susan turned and gasped. "Hi. Oh, I'm so sorry about...about your little guy. Me...me and my friend are here to be tested as donors."
A wee smile crept up in the corner of Mister Wright's mouth. He wrapped his arm around Susan. "Thanks, darlin'. But it's not necessary."
"Of course it is. We're just trying to find out why they aren't coming to get us for the tests."
"We found a donor. Two days ago. He's a suitable match."
"Oh, that's wonderful!"
"The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, if everything else goes well. There are lots of tests and forms and prep. My boy is going to pull through this."
Susan hugged onto Mister Wright. He embraced her tenderly. "Thank you so much for your kind selflessness. It means the world to me...and to my wife." He glanced at the photo in Susan's hand and grabbed it from her.
"That's my cousin, Melody. She's a big fan of yours. I...we've lost touch and I was hoping to find her here. Have you seen her? She used to sneak out at night and do the teeny bopper thing when you were working out of the studio in Manhattan. But I'm sure you wouldn't remember her."
"Angel..." he whispered.
"What?"
"My angel. Yes, of course I remember her. I'll never forget her. I thought she died...?"
Susan huffed. "That husband of hers! No, she's not dead. Don't believe that for one moment."
"Husband? Is she here?" Mister Wright took a look around. He saw Johnny seated in the corner and his wife's friend, Dr. Rachel Ravensworth, sashaying by.
"No, I said I'm looking for her."
"What did you say her name was?"
"Melody, Melody Marie Utley."
"Can I have the photo?"
Susan shrugged her shoulders. "Sure."
He took it and dug inside his shirt pocket. "Here, this is my cell phone number. Please have her call me."
Susan incredulously accepted the card. "Yes, sir." She dug in her purse and found her boarding pass stub. She asked the nurse behind the desk, "Can I borrow a pen?" Susan wrote her name and number and Johnny's number on it. "Please have her call me, or you call me if you find her. I miss her so much."
"Is she still in Park Slope?"
"No. She got married and moved to Las Vegas."
"Oh..." he said, with an audible groan.
"But she left her husband. On the Fourth of July. Don't know where she went."
"Thanks, darlin'." He went on his way.
Johnny approached Susan. "Well, how fabulous is the wonderful Mister Wright?"
"He's one of the loveliest people I've ever met. Made me feel special. By the way, they have a donor."
Johnny smiled. "See, it was meant to be. That's fabulous." He said a tiny prayer of thanks.
They proceeded down the corridor toward the elevators. Johnny looked back over his shoulder, straining to read Dr. Rachel Ravensworth's name badge.
Susan said, "He kept Melody's picture."
"Why?"
"He wants to find her, too. Get this...he says he remembers her from all those years ago in Manhattan. He wants her to call him. Look, he gave me his cell phone number!"
Johnny kept peeking back at the doctor. He knew her from somewhere.
Susan eyeballed the Pamela Anderson look-alike in rose scrubs. "Hey, I thought I'm the girl of your dreams." Her stomach flipped. No way could she compete with that beauty.
"What?" Johnny shook his head. "You're jealous? Oh, do I love you." He planted a big French kiss on her. "There, now tell me you still feel insecure."
Susan wasn't sure what to think, other than someone else wanted to find Melody alive, too. It elated her. They stepped onto the elevator and rode down with a young male doctor with small gold hoops in his ears, thick black eyebrows, and bleached spiky hair. His white coat was embroidered Dr. Tad McCutcheon. He got off on the second floor.
As soon as the doors closed, Johnny said, "Okay...so now I know where I know that girl upstairs from..." He grinned.
Susan said, "Girl? You mean the doctor."
"Girl, doctor, porn actress..."
"What?" Susan looked at him.
"Young Doctors in Paradise. Her and the big blonde guy that just got off this elevator."
Susan hadn't thought the doctor was that tall. Johnny was definitely taller. And the guy wasn't heavy. Why would he...
Oh, he must be referring to the size of the guy's..."You go to X-rated movies?"
"No. DVD rentals. You know, for the firehouse. Before Lt. Van Dyke got transferred to our house. She ruined our fun." He'd never forgiven the lieutenant for sending him up on the roof with an axe, while Brandon crawled inside the burning apartment and subsequently rescued Susan. That should have been Johnny's destiny.
"As well it should be. Aren't there rules and regulations about that stuff?" Susan shook her head as they shoved into the crowd outside Bush General Hospital. "Real doctors don't act in porn movies."
Johnny smiled. "I'll rent it and we'll watch it together if you'd like."
"No, that's okay. Not necessary. If you want to believe you just saw two porn stars, be my guest."