Zack and I both turn to see that Jonas has opened his eyes.

Zack's smile fills the whole room. "Hi."

"Hey, Buddy." Jonas manages a lopsided grin.

"Hi, Jonas," I say, and touch one of his fingers.

He eyes his brother and then me. "You two need to get together one of these nights." His speech is slurred, but his smile is abundant.

Zack ignores the suggestion, clearly relieved to see that Jonas is alert. He adjusts the stool so that he is closer to his brother's face. Gently, Zack says, "You doing okay?"

"Yes. Are you doing okay?"

Zack smiles again. "I'm fine. I'm worried about you."

"I've been sleeping, Buddy. Real comfortable."

"Really?"

"Don't worry about me, Buddy. I'm not working today."

"I can see that. Next time you don't feel like working, take a sick day."

"A sick day?" Jonas pauses, considers the advice. "I'll take a sick day."

"Don't go jumping off roofs," Zack warns, his voice laced with warmth.

"I'll just choose a day that is sick."

"That's right."

After a moment, he asks, "Which one?"

"What?"

"Monday is a sick day? Tuesday is a sick day?"

"No, Jonas."

Jonas continues as Zack rolls his eyes and smiles at me. "Wednesday is a sick day? Thursday is a sick day? Friday is a sick day? Saturday is a sick day?"

We wait and then Zack says, "How about Sunday?"

"Sunday is the Lord's day. Not a sick day."

"That's right."

"Read," Jonas tells his brother.

I wonder what he means. Zack opens the drawer of the bedside table and pulls out a navy blue Bible with the Gideons logo stamped on the cover. I watch as Zack flips through the pages, going from Old Testament to New. He stops turning pages and then in a clear voice reads, " 'Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me-put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.' " When he finishes, Jonas closes his eyes and I recognize that this passage is the one Jonas tells me to live by, the one he claims he fills his mind with.

We are wrapped in a beautiful silence except for the noise in the hallways, doctors being paged and carts rolling. This is life, I think. The beauty of a meal, a word, a moment-and then reality kicks in and you realize you've still got to deal with dirty dishes or heartache or fear. Maybe reality is those brief moments, and the larger blocks of time are just insignificant inconveniences.

Zack returns the Bible to the drawer.

"You're gentle with the kids," I say softly. "But with Jonas you're something else."

He looks at me. "What am I?"

Genuine, terrific, a hero, someone to swoon over. You better let somebody love you, before it's too late You better let somebody love you, before it's too late. "You're the best you."

"The best me?" He starts to laugh and I hold up my hand.

"People who laugh at compliments are insecure, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." He tucks the sheet around his brother, then shifts his gaze to me.

"So?"

"Say thank you," Jonas instructs him, his eyes still shut. "You're supposed to say thank you to Deirdre."

We listen to a voice paging a doctor over the PA.

Zack whispers, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I think Jonas is smiling, too. I touch his shoulder. "Jonas?"

He is smiling, but his snoring lets me know that it is his dreams that are making him smile.

Suddenly, I am aware that it is still Monday afternoon and I have a cooking class to teach. I walk into the hallway so I won't disturb Jonas. Then I dial Miriam's number from my cell phone. I explain why I'll be late.

Of course, she already knows about Jonas's fall and says that the kids are in the fellowship hall making cards for him, and not to worry.

"Are you there alone with them?" I ask. Being alone with those eight kids is a challenge no human should ever have to endure. Even if you do own a pair of green tennis shoes.

"Robert and Rhonda are here. I called them to come over since I knew Zack would be at the hospital. They got here just a few minutes ago."

Jonas is important to me, but I also have a responsibility to The Center and to Miriam. "I'll be there soon," I say.

"No," says Miriam. Firmly she adds, "You need to stay there."

"I do?"

"Zack needs someone." Then she says she has to go. The kids have run out of red construction paper. "They all want to make red cards since red is Jonas's favorite color."

"It is?" I ask, but she has already hung up.

Red? I never knew.

thirty-one.

The kids from The Center come to see Jonas, one by one, escorted by Miriam and Robert into Jonas's room. They are allowed only to enter his room, drop off their card, and then exit. This could be a disaster, I think, but the kids are well-behaved. Lisa gives Zack a hug, and Dougy says that he is sure Jonas is going to be back fixing leaks by tomorrow.

Jonas sleeps through their visit, which is a shame. He would have reveled in the attention. The cards the children made rest on the window ledge, a row of bright red. Miriam says she found a few more sheets of Jonas's favorite color stored at the bottom of a cabinet in one of the preschool rooms.

Next, Simon Gibbons, the pastor of the church, steps in for a visit. He tells Zack that Jonas is "a breath of fresh air." Just before he leaves, Jonas's neighbor arrives. A mousy woman with a French manicure, she says that Jonas is the best neighbor anyone could ever have. "He takes good care of my plumbing," she says as she places a vase of pink lilies and yellow snapdragons on the window sill.

When the visitors are gone, the room's only noise is the soft murmur of the machines.

Zack looks at the clock on the wall and says that we could go to the lobby and get something to eat. It's five after seven.

I sit on a cushy chair while Zack gets us coffee and sandwiches from a vending machine. The hospital has no cafeteria. The Atlanta Medical Center it is not.

I press my fingers to my temples, trying to come to grips with Jonas's fall. What was he doing on the roof of the church? He looks so much older lying in the hospital bed. How old is he? Forty? How old is Zack? I feel about ninety right now, and tired.

Beyond where I sit, there is a painting on the wall of a cluster of fruit displayed on a wooden table. I see a bunch of yellow bananas, Muscatine grapes, three Granny Smith apples, four figs, and over to the edge, a lemon. The lemon reminds me that Aunt Regena Lorraine still owes me the story behind the lemon in the fridge.

When Zack sets the Styrofoam cups of coffee and the sandwiches on the small table in front of us, I note his worried eyes.

I peel the cellophane away from the ham sandwich. My hands feel too heavy to lift the bread to my mouth. "I'm not hungry."

Zack adds sugar to his coffee. He pauses and looks at me. "You know? I don't think I am either."

Just for something to say, I toss out, "Jonas told you a lot about me."

"Apparently he told you about me, too. The clever thing is he never mentioned our names to each other."

"Were you engaged to Abby?" I surprise myself by asking this.

Zack looks at his shoes, then up at me. "No. We weren't at that stage yet."

I can tell there is still pain piercing his heart when he thinks of her. She was lucky to have known him, I think, lucky to have held his heart in her hands.

Zack says, "We were both in grad school. Both twenty-four." He sips his coffee. Looks into it. "She died a month before graduation. She had leukemia. That was eight years ago, but I still..."

"Miss her," I offer.

When he sighs, his face holds a vulnerability I haven't seen before.

We let the silence spread itself between us until I feel the need for conversation.

"So no one has come close to being as wonderful as her?" I regret the question the second it leaves my lips. What am I aiming for? Zack to suddenly sweep me in his arms and tell me that he loved her, but he now has found another love, and that love is, my goodness-me?

He says, "I have Jonas. Not everyone understands that he isn't just my brother."

"You raised him when your parents died."

Zack lets out a low laugh. "Is that what he told you?"

"He said that even though he's older than you are, you raised him."

"He raised me. It might look like I have to do all the taking care of, but Jonas takes care of me." Softly he adds, "If it weren't for Jonas, I wouldn't be grounded. He keeps me balanced."

My eyes fill with tears, the sudden ones that come on unexpectedly. I try to blink them away. What is happening to me? Ever since I've been in Bryson City, I've given in to tears. Don't my eyes remember that I don't cry easily? I wipe away a tear that has made its way down my cheek and hope Zack doesn't ask me if I'm crying. If he does, I may be tempted to be like Bubba and say, "Duh!"

He doesn't ask, but his face holds a rich kindness in between the lines of worry that stretch across his temples. "Not everyone understands Jonas."

I sniff again. "What is there not to understand? He's priceless."

Zack grins and, to show his satisfaction with my statement, gently touches my arm.

His action sends warm flutters throughout my body. Even my toes curl in my Reeboks. I could easily-oh, so easily-rest my head against his chest right now. As though in protest of my affectionate thoughts, I quickly cross my legs and sit up straight. Mom would be proud.

We listen to doctors being paged, which makes us aware of our institutional surroundings.

Zack stretches his legs, and then looking into his coffee cup says, "I was thinking that hospitals are difficult places."

No piece of cake, that's for sure.

"I'm sure it's hard to be back in one after your accident."

I am not expecting this from Zack. I don't know why; he's always been considerate, the model citizen for thinking of others and their feelings. "I'm okay."

"You're strong, Deena."

Strong? Strength never has been one of my outstanding characteristics. When I was nine years old and had to have a tooth pulled, I moaned for three days, and those were the three days before before the tooth came out. After surgery, I complained of a sore mouth for at least a week, allowing Mom to make me special foods to sip through a straw. Andrea, if I remember correctly, called me a the tooth came out. After surgery, I complained of a sore mouth for at least a week, allowing Mom to make me special foods to sip through a straw. Andrea, if I remember correctly, called me a little baby little baby.

Zack smiles. How many colors are dancing in those eyes?

Glancing at the painting of the fruit, I ask, "Did you know that my grandfather kept a lemon in his refrigerator at all times?" I bring this up just to make conversation, to use this as a way to distract me from falling completely in love with this wonderful man seated across from me.

"Yeah, I knew that."

"Really? He told you?"

"We had lots of conversations. Your grandfather and I went hiking together in the park. Jonas came with us a few times."