Barney’s room was bright with sunlight and full of flower arrangements; a young nurse was bustling around straightening the sheets and checking the indicators on the machines that flanked the bed. All of which served to distract Lucy—for a few minutes at least—from the figure lying there. When she finally did look at Barney, she was startled to see that his eyes were wide open. Unseeing, it seemed, but wide open.

“His eyes are open,” said Lucy.

“That’s right,” said the nurse. “He opened them yesterday. He’s also been moving his arms and legs.”

“Is that normal?” asked Lucy.

“Oh, yes. Actually, they’re signs of progress. He’s coming closer to consciousness. One of these days someone will walk through the door and he’ll say ‘Hi’ just as if he’d never been unconscious.”

“Really?” asked Lucy.

“Really.” The nurse smiled. “Isn’t that right, Barney? There’s more going on in that coconut of yours than people realize, isn’t that so?” She spoke to Barney, looking directly into his eyes.

“Can he hear you?” Lucy was doubtful.

“We think so,” said the nurse. “People who come out of comas tell us that there’s a long period during which they can see and hear others but can’t speak themselves. He’s making excellent progress, and the doctors think he’ll begin speaking any day now. I’m just going to put the radio on, and then I’ll get out of here. If you need anything, ring the call button.”

“Okay,” said Lucy, taking off her coat and sitting on the orange plastic chair the hospital provided for visitors.

“So, you can hear me, Barney. At least I hope you can. Well, I don’t know where to begin.”

She looked cautiously at Barney’s face but found his open eyes unnerving. A tube snaked out of his nose, an electrode seemed to be glued to a shaved patch on his skull, and an IV machine blinked at the head of his bed. A bag of yellow fluid hung from the bed rail; Barney had been catheterized. Lucy immediately averted her gaze, turning back to his face.

“Poor Barney, this is a hell of a mess. They say you’re doing real well, though. Poor Marge is so worried about you, and Eddie, too. He’s a good kid, Barney, and he really misses you.

“Oh, shit. You know all this stuff. I know you’re working hard to get well as fast as you can.”

Unable to sit any longer, Lucy got to her feet and paced back and forth between the window and the door. “I’ve been getting some phone calls lately, Barney. The mail-order murderers all called.” She couldn’t keep from smiling.