When he woke up, he wasn't sure where he was.  It was so bright compared to the darkness.  Perhaps he was in the place of limbo again?  

He was probably somewhere new, he thought.  With some other woman.

A pang of guilt stabbed him in the chest.  How could he have done what he did?  How could he have betrayed her and their memories in that way?  

He stopped.

Why do I still remember?  

Terror swept over him.  Perhaps John Lennon had been wrong about the effects.  What if he had to live with these feelings for the rest of his life?  This could be worse than watching his wife die.  Far worse.

What had he done?  

His eyes adjusted.  He was in a hospital room.  He looked down at himself.  He was in the hospital bed.  What an odd reversal of fortune.  There were people in the room with him.  They were whispering in hushed tones.  Then one said, "He's awake."  

He turned to the source of the voices and saw his wife, young and blonde and wearing a red sweater, talking to the doctor in his white coat.  She neared the bed.  

"Hi," she said.  "Do you remember me?"

"Of course.  What are you doing here?"

"My cousin heard you shouting my name.  I came back to see what you wanted, but you collapsed just as I got to you.  I was so worried that I didn't find out until later that you were trying to return the book I left in the stands.  I guess that's where you got my name."  

"Audrey," he breathed in disbelief.

"Yes, Audrey.  But I don't know your name."  

"I'm James."  

"Please to meet you James, though I wish it was under better circumstances.  The doctor says you are suffering from exhaustion."  

"That's okay," he said.  "It will make for a great story to tell at our wedding."  

She was taken aback at his presumptive nature, and then smiled at him.  "I have to say that is the most unique pick-up line I've ever heard."

"What are you doing tomorrow," he asked.  

"I have chores to do, but my evening is free."

"Would you like to go out for a coffee?" he asked.  

"I'd love to, but you better get your rest, or the doctor won't release you."  

He smiled and imagined that he probably looked foolish in his glee, but it didn't matter.  He closed his eyes and sleep came quickly.  

                             *          *          *

James moved.  The couch squeaked.  He opened his eyes.  He was in a hospital room again.  A shaft of light broke through the vertical blinds and sliced the darkness with a beam of light.  He followed the beam of light to the bed, where the figure there was illuminated, as if by some holy glow.  

And there Audrey rested.  

James let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.  He rolled off of the couch and onto the floor, and crawled until he could clumsily pull himself up by the railing of the hospital bed that contained his wife.

He took her hand and ran his other hand over her forehead.  She blinked her eyes and then looked up at him.  "Well, good morning," she said.  "You're up early."

He couldn't say anything.  No corny line, or profound proverb.  He was all used up.  He just wanted to stare at her for a very long time.  How could he have even thought...?

It was she who broke the moment.

"Did you see my flowers?"

He pulled his eyes away from her and appraised the vase overflowing with white roses, sitting on the nightstand. 

"Who are they from?"

"Oh, they came this morning while you were sleeping," she said.  "The man who delivered them looked just like John Lennon.  You wouldn't believe it!"

James's heart caught in his throat and he reached for the card peeking out from behind the foliage.  

"I read the card," said Audrey, "but I don't know what it means."

James opened the tiny envelope and stared at the card inside.

There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.  

He tried to suppress a relieved laugh, but was unsuccessful.  He was right.  John Lennon, or whoever he was, was right.  This was where he was meant to be, and he wouldn't give it up for anything.  

"'All You Need is Love,' right?"  Audrey asked again.

James put the card down on the nightstand and took her thin face in his hands, kissing her full on the lips for the first time in what felt like decades.  The first time he had really allowed himself to since her illness had taken a turn for the worst.  

He pulled away and smiled down at her.  "Right," he said, and he kissed her again.

FIN