From The Heart - Rewrite

Author's Note: This is a rewrite of the story I posted titled From The Heart just a week ago. A number of commenters felt it was too short, and I said I would rewrite it sooner or later. I decided on sooner, and incorporated several other criticisms into this rewrite. I hope you find this improved. I left the original in place, in case you choose to compare the before and after.

A repeat of the hat tip to member funnyalix for suggesting in a Lit chat one night that I should "write from the heart." I decided to take her suggestion literally as the basis for the title, then came up with a story to fit. So here we go...

Leenysman

~~~~~

Disclaimer: All sexual activity described in this story is between fictional characters over the age of 18.

~~~~~

I don't remember the crash. Maybe that's a good thing, to block out the pain, both physical and emotional. I don't want to remember the details. For a while, I didn't want to remember much of anything.

The first thing I do remember was coming to in the ambulance, as it raced to the hospital, and hearing one of the EMTs say, "He's awake. You're going to be okay, Henry. We're on the way to Mercy. You have a broken arm and a broken leg, and we've splinted both and given you something for the pain." I focused on him, and saw a name badge that said Ramirez, before I look up and saw a face that looked about my age of 29, with a moustache and one of those little soul patches under his lip.

"Hank, call me Hank... Missy! How's my wife?" We had been on our way home from our 5th anniversary dinner before leaving for Bermuda the next day when... Why couldn't I remember what happened next?

Ramirez said, "The first team of EMTs on the scene are doing everything they can for her. She should already be in surgery now. You're probably next, if that leg fracture is as bad as I think it is. Nothing they don't know how to deal with, though."

~~~~~

I must have passed out again, because the next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed, my bandaged left leg elevated in one of those traction rigs, my left arm in a cast. I had an IV and a blood pressure cuff and some other cabling wrapped around my right arm.

If the little white board next to the door was to be believed, I had skipped a whole day. Our anniversary was on the 22nd of April, but the board said it was the 24th. The window showed darkness outside, but whether that meant it was early on the 24th, or late, I didn't know.

I looked around, and found a call button on a cable wrapped around the bed frame where I could reach it with my right hand, and gave it a push.

It took five minutes, but someone finally answered. "Good morning Mr. Sherman. I'm Nurse Wilkins. You're at Mercy Hospital on the post-surgical floor. The doctors needed to open up your leg to insert some rods and screws to hold your tibia and fibula together until they heal, so try to keep still How are you feeling?"

"How is my wife?" I answered.

Nurse Wilkins hesitated. "I... Dr. Havers is on his way here, and he'll update you on your wife. It's policy here for the nurses to not discuss other cases. Dr. Simons is assigned to your case, and he will see you on rounds in a few hours. Meanwhile, I do need to assess your status. On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain do you have?"

"A four, I suppose. I assume I'm getting pain meds through the IV already?"

"Yes, sir," she said, just as the door opened, and a grey-haired doctor came in. When he got close enough, I could see 'Dr. Ronald Havers' embroidered into his white coat. Which is a good thing, as he never actually introduced himself.

"Nurse, can you excuse us?" he said, pulling a rolling stool over to the bed, and sitting down on it. When Nurse Wilkins had stepped out, Dr. Havers turned back to me, and said, "I was your wife's surgeon, Mr. Sherman. Your wife Melissa presented with a major head trauma, and my team and I did everything we could to repair the damage, but it was too extensive. I had to declare her brain dead after three hours, and called in the transplant team. I am so sorry for your loss."

"Transplant team? You harvested her organs?" I asked.

Havers looked surprised by the question. "Yes. I thought you would have known that she had indicated on her driver's license that she registered as an organ donor, which amounts to her pre-consent for donation. Once a determination was made that she would not recover, the organ donation protocols went into effect. I know it doesn't make up for your loss, but be aware that her organs have already saved four lives in the past day, including a heart transplant that was performed right here at Mercy."

Missy is dead. The thought repeated in my head until I fell asleep again, leaving me with another hole in my memory, as I don't even remember Havers getting up and leaving.

I drifted through the next several days, barely remembering anything from that time. Nurses checked on me, got me to use a bedpan, meals got delivered that I don't remember eating, my leg was put into a cast from thighs downward after the incision was healed enough, but it was all swallowed up by the blankness of a life without my Missy in it.

It was on the 28th that a ray of sunshine appeared to break through the clouds. Nurse Wilkins was on shift again, and came into my room, saying, "Mr. Sherman, there is someone here who wants to see you."

A visitor? So far as I knew, nobody was even aware that I was there. Missy and I had just started a two week vacation the day of the accident, and were supposed to be in Bermuda, and to keep burglars away from the house we weren't going to post to social media about the vacation until we were home. Our friends and family would be expecting not to hear from us. Missy had lost her parents in her early 20s, but I hadn't even called my own family yet, that's how bad the fugue was.

"Who?" I asked. "Did the hospital call my family?"

"We would if we had a number, Mr. Sherman, but you haven't responded to several attempts to ask for one, and nobody has inquired about you. But this visitor isn't someone you would know. She... um... she's the woman who received your wife's heart a week ago. She just got transferred to this floor out of ICU and insisted she wants to speak with you, but you need to consent, first."

Missy's heart? The woman asking to see me had her heart? "I thought donations are supposed to be anonymous."

"They are," the nurse said. "Nobody here told her, I swear. She just knows, somehow. I'm told she actually asked about you the moment she came out of anaesthesia."

"Yes, I consent. Show her in, please."

Nurse Wilkins left the room, then returned with a young lady in a wheelchair with an IV pole built in, and pushed her to the bed, placing the wheelchair alongside the railing, facing me, then adjusted the back of the powered bed so our eyes were at the same level. Above the front of her gown, I could see the bandages on her chest incision. She was wearing a face mask, from concerns about her immune system, that was being dampened so she would not reject the transplant. Missy's heart.

Nurse Wilkins decided we needed introductions. "Shawna Dufresne, this is Henry Sherman, Melissa's husband. I'll let you two be alone for a while, I have other patients to look after. Use the call button if you feel you need to go back to your room, Shawna."

I took a closer look at Shawna, and for a moment, thought I was looking at Missy, seeing Missy's blue eyes looking straight at me. I closed mine, and looked again, and Shawna's eyes were decidedly green. Her hair was a curly brown, where Missy's was a straight black. Where that initial impression of similarity came from, I didn't know. From the long legs showing past her hospital gown and a robe, she looked taller than Missy, too. Finally, I muttered, "Hello, Shawna. How are you?"

"Alive, thanks to Missy." she answered.

"How... how the hell did you know that was her nickname?" What was this?

"You're going to think I'm batshit crazy," she answered. "I'm not entirely sure I'm not. But, she told me so herself, Hank. Your wife has been visiting me in my dreams, ever since the surgery. She asked me to come to you."

"That does sound crazy," I said. "I don't suppose you have any proof? Something only she and I would know?"

Shawna smiled. Even though I couldn't see her mouth, her cheeks and eyes both reflected it, and I wished I could see the rest. "Something like your ATM PIN number is 537648, which is the name KERMIT entered on an ATM keypad that has letters on the keys?"

My eyes widened. Missy was the only other person who knew that PIN, because it belonged to a joint checking account that was originally hers, after having a pet frog as a kid. I had adopted it for several other accounts. "Yeah, something like that. So, I suppose Missy has a message for you to relay to me?"

"She does. It's 'Marry this girl.' She apparently wants me to take her place, so her heart still gets to love you."

"You're kidding, right?" I asked.

"I told you it was crazy. I told her it was crazy. But I'm just the messenger, or maybe I'm the message, I don't know which. Do you want me to go, or stay?"

That's when I heard Missy's voice in my head, "Believe her, Hank. She's perfect for you. Maybe even a better match than me. I can't stay much longer. Goodbye, my love."

"Goodbye, Missy," I whispered, a tear rolling down my cheek.

Apparently I hadn't said it softly enough, as Shawna said, "She spoke to you, didn't she?"

I looked Shawna in the eyes before saying, "Yeah, she did, and then said goodbye. A matchmaker to the very end, and beyond, apparently. Is this our first date, then?"

"I suppose so. Although I have to warn you, my doctors haven't given me clearance to put out yet. I'm not sure they'd even let me do a handjob to take care of that," she said, pointing to my midsection, where the sheet over me was definitely tented by an erection.

"I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. God, this is so embarrassing," I sighed.

Shawna laughed, a delightful sound I immediately wanted to hear more of. "Your wife has been leaving me very, very wet after some of my dreams, talking about what a great lover you are." She pointed at my prick and said, "That has her written all over it. And she's right, you are big." I measured 8", and fairly thick. Every bit of it was stiff and throbbing.

Shawna reached her hand over the bed railing, and lightly caressed my prick through the sheet and gown, just for a second, but it was enough to make me start to shoot off, under the gown. Feeling me spasm, Shawna rapidly pulled the sheet down and the hospital gown up, exposing me totally, then wrapped her hand around me, and finished jerking me off. The gown was a total mess by the time I stopped cumming. Thankfully, it was a private room, but I still couldn't believe this had happened with a stranger.

Even that small effort made her winded, but it was a look of satisfaction in her eyes, as she sat back in the wheelchair, and wiped her hand off against my sheet. When she had her hand as clean as she could get it, she grabbed the call button and pressed it.

Nurse Wilkins got an eyeful when she came in, as Shawna said, "Hank had a bit of an accident. Could you get him a new gown and a wet washcloth?"

"And after that," I added, "Could you bring me the phone? I think it's time I start letting people know where I am."

Nurse Wilkins actually came back and gave me a full sponge bath, while Shawna looked on, her eyes following the sponge as it reached my prick and balls. Then Nurse Wilkins carefully detached my IV so she could finish pulling the dirty gown off that arm and pulled a new gown on me, reattached the IV, and brought me the room phone.

"I feel like I should know your first name, after that," I said to the nurse.

She laughed, then said, "Theresa."

I dialed my parents. "Mom, Dad? You're going to want to sit down..."

~~~~~

After the call with my parents, Shawna and I chatted a bit more, and I found out that she was 24, and had been pursuing her Master's in Education when a viral infection had damaged her heart, making a transplant necessary. She had been a student athlete, and was otherwise very fit before the heart trouble, and her prognosis was very good, if she could avoid rejection.

Nurse Wilkins eventually insisted Shawna go back to her own room, but she was back to visit me nearly every day after that, as we both healed. My parents flew in from my hometown and met her on their first visit, and she charmed them easily, even though they thought our story that Missy had matched us up was far-fetched, to be polite about it. Shawna's parents were less than polite, calling us crazy outright. We didn't care by that point. Nobody had a better explanation for Shawna even knowing who her heart came from.

Then one day, Shawna had permission to visit me without the protection of the mask, and I got to see her full face, and she was even more gorgeous than I had imagined, with pretty dimples to either side of her mouth when she smiled, which she did a lot. I was always a sucker for a beautiful smile, and even though it was quite different than Missy's, my heart was hooked.

Another few days, and we both got permission to take some walks around the hospital floor and accompanied each other. I'm sure we were a sight, me in two casts, both of us pulling our IV poles down each hallway and back again. Shawna was only an inch shorter than my own 5'10", confirming my guess from the day we met. The hospital gown and bathrobe obscured her figure, but it looked to be a good one.

It was during one of those walks that I said, "I love you, Shawna," for the first time.

"I love you too, Hank," Shawna said. "I can't explain it, but I think that even though she told both of us goodbye the day we met, Missy is still here, pushing us toward each other."

I heard Missy giggling in my head, and knew Shawna was spot on. I suppose I could have resisted the heavenly interference, but I found I just didn't want to. Was that due to Missy, too? I may never know.

Eventually, we were both released from the hospital, also on the same day. I still had the casts on, and would for another month for the arm cast and two months for the leg, but I was allowed to do the rest of my healing at home.

We held the memorial service for Missy two days later. What remained of Missy's body had been cremated, at my request.

I delivered my eulogy. "Thank you all for coming. When I met Melissa Sanchez in college, I thought she was too good for me, and Missy had to make the first move. In five years of dating, and five of marriage, she never convinced me that my initial impression was wrong. She was always too good for me. I thank God that she chose to be in my life anyway, even if it was for just 10 years, and now she is with God, looking down and telling me to move it along." I looked upwards, and said, "I will always love you, Missy."

Shawna and her parents attended, and Shawna decided to speak.

"Hello, I am Shawna Dufresne. Most of you do not know me. I never actually met Missy Sherman, but I owe her my life. She donated the heart that now beats within me," she said, placing her right hand over that heart. I heard a gasp from the assembled friends, family and coworkers. "I am saddened at her passing, but grateful to her for her choice to be a donor. I feel I now owe it to her to make the best life I can, in her honor. Thank you."

It took a week before Shawna could convince her parents to let her come visit me at home and another before they relented and let her move in with me, since it turned out we both had the same home-health nurses assigned to our cases anyway.

Even with her parents and a couple of her brothers doing most of the work, the move tired Shawna out, so after her family left, she asked, "Is it okay if we just sleep tonight, Hank?"

"Of course, darling. I'm in no rush, here," I answered. "If you need to wait a month, I'm still going to be here." I hobbled around the kitchen to make a dinner for us, and we ate it quietly, still feeling nerves even though we'd delayed doing anything physical.

We got into bed, and cuddled together, Shawna on my right side away from my casts, and she whispered, "I'm tired, but I want to stay awake, too, to savor every minute of this. Is that weird?"

I chuckled, "After the way this relationship started, I think we just need to get used to not being conventional, ever."

We chatted awhile longer, until I realized Shawna had fallen asleep on me, and I drifted off, myself.

I awoke to her hand stroking my hard on. Not vigorously, she was still too easily winded, but enough to make me cum from my own excitement and horniness, reminiscent of our first day together.

"God, Shawna, that feels so good," I moaned.

She chuckled. "Wait until I can fuck you, this is nothing."

This time, she licked her hand clean, instead of wiping it off. The image of her tasting me, like a kitten licking cream off of a paw, stayed with me forever.

The difference to that first day was that we were able to get out of bed together, and took our very first shower together. Her breasts were gorgeous, a firm 'D' cup, as part of an hourglass figure that still showed an athlete's fitness. Her incision was healed, between them. We washed each other, then I sucked on those breasts for the first time, marvelling at the feel of her nipples between my lips.

That night, I had her sit on my face, and licked her to several orgasms. "Holy shit, Missy wasn't kidding, your tongue is magic," Shawna said, when she cuddled beside me, stroking my cock with her fingers, not trying to get me off, but driving me crazy, nonetheless. I had to take control, and sprayed all over myself, as I jerked myself off in less than a minute, as I heard Shawna and Missy both giggling at me.

Day by day, Shawna got stronger, our walks together got longer, the cast on my arm came off and finally she got medical clearance to resume "sexual relations". We laughed, as we had already done pretty much everything we could except fuck. That it was two months to the day since we had first met did not escape either of us.

The cast on my leg still made most positions impossible, but Shawna was able to ride me cowgirl without much trouble, and I could finally grab her breasts with both hands. The scar in between served as a reminder of what she'd gone through, but I thought of it as "Missy's Mark", knowing that what lay beneath was a physical reminder of her, as my memories were an emotional one.

Shawna bounced up and down on me, calling out, "Hank, oh god, Hank, you feel so good..." She felt like a perfect fit around me. I thrust upward as well as I could with one leg hobbled, and she squeezed me with her internal muscles, and came just from my prick hitting her g-spot from inside, so when I slipped my hand between us and started rapidly stroking her clit, she came twice more.

"I love you, Shawna. Marry me?" I asked, right before cumming into her for the first time.

Winded, Shawna collapsed on my chest, and when she caught her breath, she said, "Yes, oh yes, Hank," then started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Missy said it would take you two months to propose, and she was right, to the day."

She always was, when it came to predictions.

Our parents still thought we were crazy, but couldn't deny that we were in love and committed to each other. We were engaged for only two months, enough time to get the cast off my leg, and have enough physical therapy to re-strengthen that leg, so I could walk down the aisle with barely a limp.

Standing at the altar, watching Shawna walk toward me on her Dad's arm, I could have sworn I faintly saw Missy's ghost on Shawna's other side, and when her Dad kissed her on one cheek, Missy kissed the other, turned to me with a smile and vanished.