I nodded as we crossed the street toward the truck. “I’ll talk to him on the drive today, thanks.”
“Anytime, babe.”
As we approached the truck we went around the back to find Nesto, but when we got there only Ari, Yin, and two of the new staff were there.
“Hey guys, where’s Nesto off to?” I pulled out my phone to see if I had any messages from him. We were supposed to meet at the truck at ten forty-five to get on the road by eleven, and it was already ten-fifty.
“Hey, Jude,” Ari said, stepping down from the truck. “He was here earlier, but Mr. Sheridan called.” He rubbed his hands and smiled. “Looks like the space is ready and Nesto went to check it out.”
I tried to not to jump to conclusions. Nesto had been late a couple of times, but so far, he’d kept his promise of always being there when I went on the visits. He knew this was the last time I’d see Mary before she went to hospice. Wehadchanged the day of the visit, which I knew complicated things for him, so he might just be running behind schedule.
“It must have slipped his mind.” I smiled at Ari, attempting a light tone and avoided looking at Carmen, who would see right through me.
I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. The second time, I left a message telling him I’d drive there on my own. I ended the call and turned to Carmen.
“Hon, can you remind Martha I won’t be in the office this afternoon? I’m going to go from here.”
She looked at me through narrowed eyes, obviously aware I was a lot more frazzled about the idea of going to see Mary by myself than I was letting on. My anxiousness at going alone only made me more annoyed at myself, because what was my problem? Nesto wasn’t under any obligation to go with me. I was an adult, and this was about my family.
“It’s fine, Carmen, really. I’ll text you when I get back, okay?”
She didn’t look convinced, but she kissed me on the cheek and waved me off. “I’ll let Martha know.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been to visit Mary a bunch of times by now, I’ll be fine,” I said over my shoulder as I walked toward my car.
chapter twenty-six
jude
By the time I made it up to Mary’s room it was past one. I waved at the nurses at the station as I passed them. I’d visited enough by now that I recognized some of them.
As I walked to her room, I wondered how she was doing today. She’d lost so much weight in the past few weeks; she didn’t look much like herself anymore. She’d been so frail last week, I wondered if I’d only get a few more chances to see my sister.
When I got to Mary’s room, I noticed there was a man in there already. He was sitting off to the far side of the room, in a chair by the little round table that held the homemade cards and flowers people brought Mary. His back was to the door, head down, like he was on a phone call, but when I knocked on the door he turned around. I almost gasped in surprise when I saw his face. It was our old pastor, Paul Jones. He was still as handsome and imposing as I remembered. He’d be in his mid-sixties now, but he could still suck all the air out of a room.
Pastor Jones.
His was a face I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing again. The embodiment of every self-loathing thought I’d had as a teen. Every moment of absolute despair, knowing my family would cast me out if they knew the truth about me, sitting right here in my sister’s hospital room.
He stood when he saw me, as if he’d been waiting for me, and my heart sank. I hoped this wasn’t some kind of intervention. I wanted to believe Mary wouldn’t do this to me. That she wouldn’t betray my trust like this by using Pastor Jones to ambush me. I walked in hoping my unease was unnecessary.
I ignored Pastor Jones and looked over at the bed. Mary’s eyes looked regretful, but I could see the stubborn set in her jaw. Whatever it was she’d planned for this visit, she was going to see it through. I let a long breath out as I got closer, knowing this conversation would wound me, but I sat down on the chair anyway. In some sick way, I felt I owed Mary this, her last attempt at saving my soul.
“How are you doing today?” I tried to keep a jovial tone, taking her hand as a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Pastor Jones came to pray with us.” Just those few words brought on a coughing fit. It had a dry rattling sound. Her bony shoulders shook so violently I was afraid her IV would come out.
I gestured at Pastor Jones, who just stood there like a statue, to pass me the pitcher. I poured some water and passed it to Mary after she finished coughing. She drank deeply and slumped against her pillow, breathing hard.
She turned her face to me after a moment. “I’m so weak now, the hospice will be better. They’ll be more mindful of my comfort.”
“Oh Mary,” I croaked, unable to say more.
“I’m getting ready, Jude. Soon I’ll be with Mama and Daddy.” She looked at Pastor Jones, and he gave her a comforting smile, which I assumed was his way of encouraging her on whatever was about to happen. I nodded, ignoring the stare he was sending in my direction.
After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Jude, I’m here at Mary’s request to talk about your salvation, son. Your sister is dying, and she’s worried about the state of your soul as much asher own. She loves you and wants more than anything to see you turn away from the life of sin and perdition you’re living. She doesn’t want to leave this world without hearing you repent and say you accept our Lord in your heart once again.”
Mary looked at me, her face pleading.
