Heading up the steps leading into Sunnyside Nursing Home, Reba Dilley stopped to smell the bright yellow roses growing up the trellis, something she hadn’t done in years.  Brushing back her auburn hair, she took in their aroma, remembering a day of love and respect, but most importantly, a day of family and values.  Gently touching a silk petal, she blinked away her regret. 

How could she have not known Jack was alive?

She shivered either from the autumn air or the idea of seeing him for the first time in nearly forty years.  With her hands on the porch rails, she closed her dark brown eyes and remembered the dreadful day.

*******

     Reba recalled frantically jumping out of her Jeep Cherokee and nearly slipping in the sludge trying to make her way to the river’s edge.  The pouring rain stung her eyelids while her heart pounded so loudly it echoed inside her head.

It can’t be true, she prayed.   

     As it traced the area, the search lights from a helicopter blinded her as it traced the area.  Its rotor blades tossed her long hair about her face.  A search and rescue team had been diving into the murky waters of Lake Erie all night.  No sign of Jack. 

     “Jack?” Reba screamed into the blackness.  Please, God, let them find you.  “Jack, come back to me.  I’m sorry.” 

     Turning her head, she caught sight of a car being hooked up to a tow truck.  Water poured from beneath its frame and green moss clung to its blue paint.  A tall man claiming to be a detective explained how they had pulled Jack’s vehicle from the water without a body…without a body… 

******

Opening her eyes, Reba blinked and gazed out across the damp, green striped lawn of the nursing home. 
     Many of the elderly men and woman were out for a morning stroll while some were resting on benches and feeding the birds.  In the distance, the sun glistened off a pond where a family of ducks was bathing.  Elm trees shaded the cement pathways as their leaves had already begun changing into vibrant fall colors. 

She was suddenly jealous of those people.  Unlike most of them, she never got a chance to be with Jack.
     How many times had Jack stood in that exact spot?  Had he thought of her?

Taking a deep breath, she entered the building.  A peculiar odor of antiseptic mixed with urine and aged perfume instantly knocked her back. 

She followed the floor of the waiting room dressed with red Berber carpet speckled with tiny black diamonds.  Several light blue, leather sofas and chairs were conversationally placed. 

Reba smiled at the two elderly men sitting at a table playing chess.  One simply nodded while the other paid no attention to her as he concentrated on his next move. 

     “Can I help you?” an older lady, about the same age as Reba, asked from a desk.  The receptionist, with the nametag Becky, took off her eyeglasses and allowed them to dangle from a silver chain around her neck. 

     “Where can I find Jack Briscoe?”

     “Let me see.”  Becky slowly returned her glasses to the indent on her pudgy nose before typing on the computer’s keyboard. 

     Looking at Becky’s gray hair, Reba was glad she’d had her own silver hair dyed auburn that morning. 

With a pink polished fingernail, matching the silk blouse she had chosen specifically for Jack, Reba touched the back of one of the sofas.  She found it to be plastic, and not leather.

“He’s down that hallway, straight ahead, in Room 11, honey.” 

As Reba ventured down the long corridor, she smiled at the woman's nickname for her, honey.  It was funny because they were the same age.  Being called honey made her feel young.  
     Continuing down the hallway, she admired the portraits hanging on the peach colored walls.  Old wooden frames held photographs of who she assumed were patients and caretakers.  Smiles seemed to brighten everyone’s faces. 

Were they that happy living in this place? 

Before she entered Jack’s room, she had to take a deep breath.  Clutching her chest, she needed her rapid heartbeat to slow down.  She was going to have a heart attack. 

Instead of entering, she began pacing the floor and wringing her hands. 

     How would she react when she saw him?  Would she run and embrace him?  Would she recognize him? 

She sighed loudly.  From what the detective had told her, he wasn’t going to know her.

******

     “Mrs. Briscoe, we found your husband.  He's in a nursing home here in Fremont, Ohio.  The staff’s been trying to find his family.  Recently, he began saying the name Reba Bailey.  I assume that’s your maiden name?”

     “Are you sure it’s…Jack?”  Placing her hand on her chest, she prayed it was him. 

     “The report says he hitchhiked here to our town and was found wandering about.  He has amnesia.”

 

******

After taking another deep breath, Reba slowly turned the brass doorknob to Jack’s room and entered.  Sunlight from a large picture window cascaded over a single pine bed, matching dresser, and a small table for two.  She was surprised to see a pot of yellow roses perched in the center of the table. 

An elderly man was sitting next to the window in a blue chair, similar to the furniture in the waiting room.  Her heart pounded louder.  It was Jack.  Even though he had aged, she recognized him. 

He didn’t move or look her way.

Wanting to run to him and hold his hand, she desperately needed to tell him how much she still loved him.  But she didn’t.  From what she had been told, he had no memory of their past.  No memory of their first kiss.  No memory of their first child.  To him, she was a complete stranger. 

     Oh, sweet man.  You’re alive, her heart sang. 

     “It’s me, Jack.  Reba.”  He just had to know it was her.  “I’ve missed you so much.”  Oh, how she still loved this man.  Why hadn’t she continued searching for him?  Moving closer so he had to look at her, she smiled.  “Do you like my hair?  I had it dyed this morning for you.  It was turning white.  You’d a never recognized me.”  She let out a nervous giggle. 

“Do I know you?”  He stared blankly at her.    

“Yes, sweetheart, you do.” 

Finding the courage, she slowly touched his wrinkled, leather face and remembered a time when his skin was as soft as her silk blouse.  His high cheekbones still set below magnificent blue eyes.  His once auburn hair, along with his eyebrows, were now a silvery gray.  Although he had aged, he had done it gracefully.  Even for a sixty-four year old man, the same age as she, he looked like a distinguished gentleman.   

“I have no idea who you are.”  Managing to get out of the chair, he moved slowly to his bed and lifted the telephone receiver.  “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the cops.”

“Jack, it’s me, Reba.”  His cold stare brought tears to her eyes.  She spotted a dried yellow rose sitting on the nightstand.  “Tell me why you have this.”  She picked up the flower.

“I don’t know.  I’ve been picking them for years.  For some reason, their soft petals comfort me.”

“I can tell you why you have it.  Do you care to hear?”

With his eyebrows knitted, he returned the telephone receiver back to its holster. 

The sadness in his eyes melted her heart.

Taking a chance, she sat down at the small table, and surprisingly he followed her.  Without thought, she took his hand.  He didn’t move, however his cold stare softened.

Did she have the power to bring him back? 

     Oh, how she wished they could return to those happy times. 

*******

It was the summer of 1965. 

It was rather hot that day and she and a few friends had just graduated from college.  There was a carnival down on Lake Erie and she had been so excited to go.  Her friend had told her there’d be parasail rides.  Full of energy, Reba rushed out to the lake. 

A guy jumped out of the boat and smiled the most beautiful smile.  He was so handsome with his blue eyes sparkling.  His auburn hair just brushed the tops of his shoulders and his shirtless chest glistened under the sun’s rays. 

While he strapped her in, his fingers gently caressed her tan skin.  After he started the boat’s engine, he accelerated and she flew high above the water, waving and laughing.  She was free. 

They spent the rest of the day picnicking by the water. 

Just as he walked her home, he picked a yellow rose from Mrs. Jenkins’ garden and handed it to her.  Leaning over, she kissed him passionately on the lips. 

“I think I love you,” he whispered. 

“Follow me.”  She giggled and ran around Mrs. Jenkin’s house and into an old barn. 

Falling into a haystack, she clutched onto him after he landed beside her.  He took a handful of her hair and put it to his nose.    

“I love the way you smell,” he whispered, moving closer so his lips tickled her cheek.  Turning her face towards his, he gently kissed her mouth. 

“Will you love me for the rest of my life, Jack?”

“Yes,” he whispered.  Slowly unzipping the back of her sundress, he slipped it down over her shoulders.  His eyes turned lustful at the sight of her nakedness.

It was the first time she’d ever been with a boy and she had no regrets.

Out of all of the romance stories she’d ever read, the ones that told tales of love at first sight, she’d never experienced anything like it before. 

*******

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember any of that,” Jack interrupted her story and stood. 

Running his fingers through his messy gray curls, he returned to the window.  His height practically shielded the sunlight from entering the room.

Without another word, she went to him and took his hand.  He peered down at her and something flickered in his eyes.  Maybe he was just grateful for some company, but she thought she saw love.

“Did we marry?” he asked.

     “Yes, I was just getting to that,” she said, softly. 

     His blank expression cut through her heart like a knife.

     “If I loved you so much, why did I end up here?”  His eyes questioned her.  “Why’d I leave you?” 

     “Can we take a walk outside?”  She needed some air.

     “I’d rather not.”  He returned his attention to the window.

     “Please.  It’s so nice out.  We can sit on a bench and I can tell you the rest.”

     “Fine.”  He sighed loudly.  “But I’ll need my wheelchair.”

     “Where is it?”  His immobility shocked her.  He seemed perfectly healthy.

     “By the front door.”

     Rushing to get it, she wheeled it back and waited for him to sit down and get situated. 

     She couldn’t believe how he’d aged.  The young Jack she once knew never complained of aches and pains. 

     Zipping up her jacket, she walked him outside and was grateful for the warmth of the sun.  She moved him near a bench and took a seat before she finally spoke. 

     “I’ll never forget that night you disappeared.  It was the worst night of my life.  It was our fifth wedding anniversary.  I had two tickets to the drive-in theater.  I wanted it to be perfect.” 

*******

July 14, 1970. 

Reba was upstairs, adding the final touches to her makeup, waiting for Jack to get home from work.  He worked in a factory that liked to keep its employees late. 
     Staring into the mirror, she batted her eyelashes. 

When the clock struck six o’clock, she grew worried.  Jack hadn’t arrived home yet.  He was a half an hour late.  As she paced the floors, she wrung her hands.  It wasn’t like him to be this late. 

Just after seven, the telephone rang.  It just had to be Jack saying he was stuck in the rain and would be there soon to apologize. 
     “Reba?” a female voice said on the other end.

“Yes, this is she.”

“Is Jack there?” the woman asked.

“No.  Who is this?” 
“He just left my house.”

“Excuse me?”

"I just wanted you to know that you don't really know Jack."
     The line went dead.

Replacing the phone on the nightstand, she stood and began wringing her hands. 

Where was Jack?  Was he with another girl?

Around ten o’clock, she sat up from the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.  She had fallen asleep on the couch. 

“Reba, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

“Where’ve you been, Jack?”  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

When he embraced her, she caught the scent of sweet perfume.

“Have you been with a woman?”

“What?  No.  Why would you ask that?”

“I know all about it, Jack.”

“Okay, I was, but it wasn’t like that.”

“I want you out of here.  Now.  I’m not that kind of girl.”

When he started to protest, she shoved him.  

“Get out,” she screamed.

“But Reba, it wasn’t like that.  You have to believe me.”

“I hate you.  I never want to see you again.”

Before he could say another word, she had pushed him out and slammed the door shut in his face.  She rushed to the window just as the car’s headlights disappeared into the dark rainy night.  Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

How could he have cheated on her?

It wasn’t until hours later when the telephone rang that brought her from the windowsill.

“Jack?” she asked.

“Mrs. Briscoe?” a male voice said on the other line.

“Yes.”  Queasiness instantly clutched the pit of her stomach.

“My name is Lieutenant Stephen Larson.  My men just pulled a blue 1969 Chevy’s owner.  It was registered to a Jack Briscoe.”

“Is he okay?”  The lump that had formed in her throat made it hard to swallow. 

“There was nobody in the car.  We’re afraid he may have gone down river.  My men are raking the water as we speak.” 

She hung up the phone, and with trembling fingers, dialed the telephone number of her next-door neighbor. 

“Lorraine, I need you to come over and watch Madison.”  Her voice shook with each word.

“Reba?  I heard about Jack.”

News traveled fast in the small, one-horse town.

“They don’t know where he is,” Reba cried.  “The car was found in Lake Erie without him in it.”

“I know.”  Lorraine puffed on a cigarette, and then exhaled the smoke.  “Charlie is up there right now searching for him.”

“Is your car stick shift?”

“Sure, honey, why?  You're not...thinking about going up there are you at this time of night?”

“I have to find Jack.”

Those were the last words Reba remembered saying that night.  Having spent hours along the riverbed, praying for a miracle, she was left with devastation that Jack was never found.  The town searched for three months before they pronounced him dead.  His funeral was held the following Friday without a body in the casket.  Going through all the steps, she had never been more lost.  At twenty-six years old, how was she going to live the rest of her life without her soul mate?

******

Blinking away her past memories, she was brought back to reality by Jack’s voice. 

“I don’t remember.”  His eyes were fixed on a pair of bluebirds hopping along the sidewalk.  “I’m tired.  I’d like to go back inside now.”  His blank expression never faltered.

Letting out a sigh, she stood and wheeled him inside. 

It was sad how fate hadn’t handed her the life she’d always dreamed.  But it hadn’t taken care of Jack either.

As days passed, Reba continued visiting Jack, praying for his memory to return, but each time she’d leave, she was sadly disappointed.  And every time she would enter his room, his condition had deteriorated a little more.  Soon he became bedridden and refused to move, constantly staring into oblivion. 

One evening after sitting by Jack’s bedside for hours, she opened her tote bag and pulled out a notebook. 

“Jack, this is a journal I had started when we met.  I’ve continued writing in it all these years.  I want you to have it.”  She sniffed. 

He didn’t look at her.

Placing it on his chest, she stood and left the room.  Once in the hallway, she cried her eyes out.  She quickly rounded the corner and practically ran into Dr. Ebert. 

“Hello, Mrs. Dilley.”  The short, balding man beamed.

Wiping her eyes, she tried to smile. 

“I was just going to check on Jack.”

“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?”

“You mean, why is his mind in another place most of the time?”

Zipping her coat, she nodded.

“When he lost his memory, I believe he lost everything, and he knows it subconsciously.  You were once very special to him.  I think somewhere deep inside he’s missed you all these years.”  He shook his head.  “I’m trying to help him.”

“I know.  You’re the best psychiatrist in this area.”

“I haven’t done anything to help him out of this yet.  Let me go in and check on him.  I’ll have more answers for you tomorrow.”  He patted her shoulder.  "Don't tell Jack that you remarried."

"I wouldn't dream of it."  She looked down.  "My husband died two years ago, so it wouldn't help me bringing him up anyway."
     The next morning, Reba dressed quickly in a pair of navy blue slacks and a pink cashmere sweater.  Curling her shoulder-length hairstyle under, she dabbed on pink lipstick.  Having never lost her feelings for Jack, she wanted to look nice for him.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she shuddered.  He wasn’t going to remember her.  Even though her dark brown eyes hadn’t changed, the rest of her face had aged.  Quickly finishing up, she slid on a pair of navy blue flats and jumped into the car.  

Just as she entered the Nursing Home, she got the strange feeling something was wrong.  Dr. Ebert was standing by the desk talking to Becky, the receptionist, but just as he caught sight of Reba, his smiled faded and his eyebrows knitted.

“Hello, Ms. Dilley,” Dr. Ebert replied.

“Is Jack okay?”  Her heart dropped.

“He’s the same.”  Cupping her elbow, he led her down the hallway to his room.

“I’m just going to come right out and say it.”  He stared intently at her.  “My assessment of Jack isn’t good.  What I’ve been worried about all along was right.  He’s giving up.”     

“What do you mean?” 

“You have to remember he’s been in this state since he came to us.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  Most amnesia patients find new lives, but not Jack.  It’s like his mind can’t remember the past, so he’s lost his will to live.  If Jack doesn’t remember his past life soon, I’m afraid he’s going to die.”

“What?” she gasped, grabbing the wall.  “You can’t be serious.”

“Look at him.  He can barely walk.  He’s only sixty-five years old.  He has no health problems explaining his inability to get around.  He’s started physically shaking as if he has Parkinson’s, but my tests show nothing of the sort.  Yesterday, he started refusing to eat.  I had a colleague of mine come in last night to give me a second opinion.  He agrees.”

“I can’t believe this.”  She was literally trembling.  How could she have just got him back only to lose him again? 

“I never stopped loving Jack.”

“I can tell.”

“What can I do to keep him from giving up?”

He turned to stare at her.  “He needs to remember you.”

“I gave him my journal, but I doubt he’ll ever read it.”

“Maybe you should read it to him.”

“I need to see him,” she admitted. 

Entering Jack’s room, she couldn’t get Dr. Ebert's words out of her head.  “He needs to remember you.”  She knew what she had to do, but could she go through with it?

He was asleep.  An IV needle was jabbed into his wrist.  His body shook with every breath and his trembling hands held tightly to a wilted yellow rose.

She quietly sat down next to his bed.

He opened his eyes.  “Hi, Reba.”  He only knew her name because of her visits.

“How are you, Jack?”  Tears were welling up behind her eyelids, but she begged them not to fall.

“I’m not feeling very well today.”  His shaking made it hard for him to speak.  “I don’t want any company.”

She quickly wiped the escaped tear that trickled down her cheek. 

“Don’t do this.”  Her voice cracked.

“I don’t want you here.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you, Jack.  I love you.”  Kissing his wrinkled hand, she reached over and pulled her journal from the nightstand drawer. 

With her lips still trembling, she read the first paragraph from page one.  She continued reading through her tears.  Every now and then, she’d look up to see if he was listening.  Even though his eyes were closed, she could tell he was. 

The sound of the door turned her head.  A priest quietly entered the room.  Reading his last rights, she assumed. 

She shuddered and returned her attention back to the pages.  The diary told of her undying love for him.  How she had never given up on seeing him one day.  How she’d never found another love.

Again the door to Jack’s room opened.  This time it was Dr. Ebert and Pam, the night nurse.

“Reba,” Pam said, putting her hand on Reba's shoulder.  “He’s gone.”

“What?”  Swiping away the tears, she peered up at Jack.  “No, he’s just sleeping.”

“Honey, he’s gone.”

“No, he’s not.  Look at him.”  Reba caressed his warm face.

Dr. Ebert kept his head down.

Reba looked at Jack again.  “Jack, wake up and tell them.” 

Jack didn’t move.

“It’s too late?”  Reba sniffed. 

Pam put her arms around Reba and held her tight, as Reba’s shoulders heaved.  She couldn’t stop staring at Jack. 

How could he have left her again?

     “I’m sorry, Jack.”  Reba sobbed.  “I couldn’t reach you.  I’m sorry, my love.” 

     She should’ve kissed him.  Maybe that would have jarred his memory.  But she hadn’t had the guts.  Now it was too late.

“Ms. Dilley, let’s go out in the hallway,” Dr. Ebert replied, taking her arm. 

Without a word, Reba grabbed her jacket off the chair and walked out into the hallway like she had done so many times before.  Only this time was different.  She was never coming back.  It was over.  After all this time, she had lost Jack for good. 
     The numbness of losing him sustained her as she drove home.

Falling into a restless sleep that night, Reba’s dreams brought her to a beautiful Catholic church.  One she’d seen so very long ago.  Where she’d been Baptized, perha