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Chapter 22
Anne
was asleep on the queen size bed in her tour bus. This tour would
be less than three months long, but since she barely slept outside her tour
bus she decided to spring for top of the line comfort. The events that were
about to take place in the next few moments no one would fully understand
until days from now. But Anne did not know about any of that or care. She
was off dreaming the dreams of a woman looking forward to going home.
The weather in New York in early April was anything but predictable. And
tonight, cold rain came down in sheets over the dark tinted windows of the
motor coach. It was after three in the morning and the only people who were
awake at this hour were those who chose to be.
With a violent start Anne was thrown forward from the bed. She landed in
the narrow hall between the bedroom and the lounge; her right knee was the
first thing to break her fall. Debilitating pain radiated both up and down
her leg. The bus shuddered as it lurched away from whatever shook it from
its course. Barely coherent enough to understand what happened Anne heard a
thudding noise as the back tires skipped over the wet pavement. Her stomach
reeled as she felt the bus tip. She was airborne again for a split second,
enough time to bash her head against one wall as the bus flipped. And then
crashed down upon the other wall with her right shoulder landing first. She
raised her head to look up, with hazy vision she saw the bus in shambles,
then her head sank back down with pain and blackness.
Anne awoke again confused and scared, everything around her was white.
She wondered if she was dead? No. Her body hurt too much for her to be dead.
Her brain and vision cleared enough to realize she was in a hospital. The
heart monitor beeped in an even rhythm. Anne saw Howie standing over her,
his brown eye so warm and comforting and felt his hand clasped around hers.
She hoped he was not a dream, because if he was this was the strangest turn
a nightmare had ever taken. She glanced down and knew she was pretty banged
up. She could not see her knee because of the blankets, but guessed by the
looks of things it was in a cast. She felt her arm was in a cast and sling.
There was even a large bandage on her forehead under which she guessed were
some stitches.
“What the hell happened?” She asked. She was too tired and too sore
for
pleasantries.
“To you or the bus?” Howie asked cracking a smile, it was not forced.
That was nice.
“Both.”
“A semi rear ended you, the guy was going eighty-five, you weren't. Near
as they can tell the driver had a heart attack.”
“Near as they can tell?”
“He didn't make it. Your driver tried to compensate and keep the bus on
the road but he over corrected on the wet pavement it skidded and
overturned.”
“I know babe, I was there.” Anne knew she sounded like a bitch, but
at
this point she did not care.
“You, I am sad to say have seen better days.”
“Tell me something I don't know.”
“You've got a rather lovely cut on your forehead, complete with
stitches, and a concussion to match. They now have relocated you dislocated
shoulder, and had to use two pins to put your knee back together.” He was
trying his best to be funny it was not working.
“And a partridge in a pear tree.”
“All in all I'd say a bang up job.”
Anne glared at him. “If you use another pun like that I'll kick your
butt—-as soon as it doesn't hurt to move.”
“Babe, you were out for two days there, you had me worried. I'm just
glad you're all right.”
“Do I look all right to you?” Anne asked, starting to get upset.
“I could have lost you, but I didn't. And even like this you still are
beautiful.”
She looked at him with one eyebrow raised; maybe he was the one with the
head injury. Slowly as if by instinct she ran her thumb over her left ring
finger—-her ring was gone. A wave of panic swept over her. She looked around
frantically; her engagement ring was sitting on the rolling table next to
her bed safe and sound.
“They took it off in the emergency room.”
Anne thanked God they had not cut it off. Doctors had a nasty habit of
cutting things off in there: coats, clothes—-jewelry.
Things were starting to make sense to her again. Images and memories
came flooding back to her as if a cloud in her mind had been lifted. Then
she remembered Howie should have been there. She could not remember where
the Backstreet tour was supposed to be playing but he was not supposed to be
in a hospital in New York.
“Howie, why are you here? I know you're supposed to be here. What are
you missing on account of me?”
“Three shows so far, the guys understand and they can cover. The fans
understand you're my fiancée.”
“You should be with them—-your duty to them...”
“What about my duty to you? Even if I could have stayed, my heart would
not have been there. I would have been too worried about you.”
“But...”
“It doesn't matter.”
“But Howie...”
“It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Not the tours, not the records,
awards, money, even the wedding: none of it. All that matters is I am here
with you and you are safe.”
“I—I...” Anne stammered.
Howie picked up her ring off of the table. “Right now all that matters
is you and I.” He slid the ring back on her finger. “I got a pretty
good
reality check when I thought I had lost you. I would wait for you forever, I
would die a thousand deaths for you if only to hear you say you loved me and
would be mine forever.”
“I love you. And I will be yours forever.”
“I love you too. See, that's all that matters.”
Anne kissed him, when they finally she further examined her wounds. Her
knee was a mess. “I guess I can kiss Broadway good bye for a while, huh?”
“It looks like it. But knowing you you’ll be dancing on it within
six
months.”
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