THE THURSDAY BEFORE the anniversaries, I was rudely roused from one of my deep slumbers by a worried voice urging me to “Wake up, Joleigh-Anna! You’re scaring me! You hear me? Wake up!”
I did but I can’t say I was happy to. I’d had a headache all day that wouldn’t quit and a coughing spell had my ribs giving me misery. These distresses, plus a throbbing in my fractured arm, commenced as soon as my eyes opened.
I groaned and prepared to pass out again.
“No, oh, don’t go back to sleep! I want to talk to you! I’ve been discharged. Mom’s taking me home after she has lunch with your mother and Irvy.” Lannette sat on my bed, arm in a sling, watching me. “You look exactly like Matt did—just lying there . . . all quiet . . . so pale . . . No wonder Jarrett had his fit!”
“Yeah, you’ve said that
