Authors: Loree Lough
She lay a hand alongside his face. “I know you’re scared that Kasey might hate you when she finds out you were there the night her father died. But
everyone
is afraid of the unknown.”
Not
when
Kasey finds out,
he thought,
but
if. Adam shook his head. “We shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s only getting you all riled up and—”
“
Not
letting me talk about this is what’ll rile me. If you don’t let me get this off my chest, I swear, I’ll get out of this bed and hunt for the biggest paddle I can find.”
He met her eyes, saw the spark. “You wouldn’t,” he said, forcing a grin.
Grinning back, she said, “Try me.”
They’d had a similar conversation twenty-plus years ago, when he’d tried to walk home, alone in the dark, after an argument with Wade. She’d won then, and something told Adam she’d win again tonight.
“Give me that Bible,” she demanded.
He handed it to her.
“See all these little blue page markers?”
“Yeah…”
“These are so you’ll know where to find the verses with
forgiveness
in them.”
He sat, slack-jawed. She wanted him to read Bible verses so she could go to her grave knowing he’d been forgiven. What had he ever done in his miserable life, Adam wondered, to deserve a friend like this!
“I want you to read them. All of them.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“Now?”
Unfolding her arms, she clasped her hands in her lap. “Answer a question for me.”
“If I can….”
“Do you think I’m a good person? That I’ll go to heaven when I die?”
The mention of death wasn’t softened, not even by the knowledge she’d end up in Paradise. “’Course you will. You’re a…you’re a living saint!”
Laughing, she touched her fingertips to her chest and opened her eyes wide. “Me? No!”
The moment of merriment contorted her face with pain. “Whew,” she said once it passed, “that was a bad one.” She sipped from the straw Adam held near her lips, then waved the cup away. “Like I said, every breath is torture, but I can’t meet my Maker, not ’til I know you’ll be okay.”
Adam didn’t want her to leave. But then again, he didn’t want her to stay…not if staying caused her such agony.
She wagged a finger under his nose, then pointed at the Bible. “Start readin’, mister.”
Adam scooted his chair nearer the bed and faced his dear friend, then opened the Good Book to the first marked passage. With slow deliberation, he began reciting from Psalms. “‘But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared….”’ His back was to the door, so he couldn’t see Kasey standing just outside the room.
But Mrs. Cameron saw her.
Kasey felt rooted to the floor under the weight of the
riveting and strangely meaningful eye contact. When the older woman looked away, Kasey shuddered involuntarily, as if a chill wind had whipped up the hushed hospital hallway.
“‘Look upon my affliction and my pain, and forgive all my sins….”’
Mrs. Cameron grabbed Adam’s wrist, gave it a slight shake. “Promise me something?”
Silenced by her sudden interruption, Adam studied her haggard face. “Anything. Anything at all.”
She was dying, right before his eyes, and he was powerless to do anything to prevent it.
“How’s about a hug?” she said.
Adam understood only too well why her weak, bony fingertips pressed insistently into his skin: she wanted to say goodbye. As his arms went around her, he thought of the hundreds of times he’d embraced this dear, sweet woman over the past two decades…hiya and thank-you hugs, you’re-such-a-nut hugs and see-you-later hugs, but never
ever
goodbye….
She gave his shoulder a feeble pat. “Take care of Wade and Anna. They’ve always looked up to you.”
He nodded, though he’d never quite understood why the Cameron kids had looked to him for counsel, consolation, even censure.
He leaned back slightly, looked deep into her eyes. Hand trembling, he brushed gossamer strands from her face, wishing he could smooth the furrows from her brow. “Sure, sure,” he soothed, “’course I’ll look out for ’em.” He grinned a bit. “Always have, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you most certainly have.”
Her once-lovely features relaxed, as if his simple, heartfelt oath had soothed her torment. Such a small request,
and yet the Almighty had heard…and responded. Humbled, Adam sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.
“One more thing, Adam?” The faintest smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Let’s call it my last request.”
Every muscle in him tensed.
“I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” he said, and meant it.
She looked over his shoulder, toward the door, focused on something in the hall. One brow arched, she pursed her lips and lifted her chin. He was about to turn around, to see what had so completely captured her attention, when Mrs. Cameron faced him again.
“Tell Kasey the truth. If she’s even half as good and decent as you say she is, she’ll understand. She’ll forgive you, like
God
forgave you a long, long time ago.” She lay back, spent, and a tremor coursed through her. “Promise me you’ll tell her.”
Adam blinked. Swallowed. Cleared his throat. Did she realize what she was asking of him? If he made a confession like that, well, any chance he might have had with Kasey was gone.
“If she’s everything you described,” Mrs. Cameron said again, “she’ll understand.”
Her gaze drifted toward the door and she smiled warmly, as if she’d seen a long-lost friend.
Must be Wade or Anna,
he thought, twisting his upper body to tell them to hurry to their mother’s bedside.
But her hand on his arm stopped him. “Is it cold in here, or is it just me?”
Must be a hundred degrees in here,
Adam thought. He’d taken off his jacket and baseball cap an hour ago, had tossed the sweatshirt aside soon after. If she was cold in this makeshift oven, it could only mean one thing.
He eased the blankets up under her chin, then slid his
arms around her, gently brought her upright and held her close. “What a sneaky way to get another hug,” he said, forcing a cheerfulness into his voice that he didn’t feel.
His little joke made her laugh, and that warmed
him.
She clung to him with a strength that belied her condition. “I’m glad it’s you who’s with me now,” she whispered. “I prayed and prayed the kids wouldn’t have to watch—”
Adam felt her hot tears seeping through his white T-shirt; until that moment, he hadn’t realized Mrs. Cameron was crying. He searched his mind for something comforting to say, something profound and significant. As usual, she beat him to the punch.
“I’m proud to have known you, Adam Thorne.”
He tried to echo the sentiment, but found it impossible to speak past the sob aching in his throat. Knowing there’d be plenty of time for tears later, Adam held his breath and grit his teeth, determined to keep his emotions in check.
From out of nowhere, it seemed, a long-forgotten Bible verse from I Corinthians 15:52 echoed in his mind.
“‘And lo, I will tell you a mystery,”’ Adam recited in a broken voice, “‘in the twinkling of an eye, the trumpet will sound…”’
“‘And the dead will be raised imperishable…”’ Mrs. Cameron quoted.
“‘…and we will be changed,”’ they said in unison.
A moment of peaceful silence elapsed.
When she went limp, he knew her spirit had left her. “Not as proud as I’ve been to know you,” he said, gently settling her back onto the pillows. “Not nearly as proud.”
Like lava erupting from a long-silent volcano, the pent-up grief and anguish he’d been hiding as Mrs. Cameron wasted away boiled to the surface. Because she had no
roommate to disturb, no next of kin to distress, he loosed his sorrow, one harsh, hacking sob at a time.
Kasey had never felt more like an interloper. Part of her wanted to go to him, to offer some kind of comfort; part of her sensed he needed this time alone with his dear friend.
Fingers pressed to her lips, she blinked back hot tears and fled silently down the hall. She looked up at the elevator numbers…seven, six, five…remembering, as the quiet
pings
counted the floors, the three o’clock phone call from Mrs. Cameron. “Come right away,” she’d said. “There’s something you need to know.” She’d sounded so desolate, so inconsolable—how could Kasey refuse?
The woman had been a member of Kasey’s church for years, and these past few Sundays, Pastor Hill had led the congregation in prayer for Mrs. Cameron’s sudden illness, for her strength when the doctors said “terminal.”
Life’s daily responsibilities had prevented Kasey from getting to know the woman as anything more than a passing acquaintance. But what she’d witnessed just now, as Mrs. Cameron gave herself over to the Lord and Adam’s very presence had gentled the brutal grip of death, spelled out exactly what kind of stuff Adam Thorne was made of.
Driving from her house to Sinai earlier, Kasey had wondered why the woman wanted to see her at a time like this. It hadn’t taken long to get an answer. The purposeful
look
made it clear she’d been summoned for no reason other than to hear Mrs. Cameron’s “Tell Kasey the truth and she’ll forgive you” speech.
But…forgive him for what?
And how could
she
be involved in the incident that had painted his face with such grief, slumped his shoulders with such burdensome guilt? Had the “what” prompted him to say peculiar things like
“There are things you should know about me, Kasey…”?
Pulling her coat tighter around her, Kasey hurried toward her car. Her breaths puffed into the cold night air, each one a foggy trace of evidence that she was alive and healthy. The acknowledgment made her picture Mrs. Cameron, pale and lifeless in Adam’s strong arms.
She got into the car and sat shivering behind the steering wheel, waiting for the motor to warm up. Soft music wafted from the car radio, and she shook her head. Adam had obviously been a friend—a very good one—to Mrs. Cameron, and she to him. Why else would she have said, flat out, that she was grateful to be with him at the end?
Kasey put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space. As the tires hissed over frosty pavement, Mrs. Cameron’s lecture reverberated in her mind. Like a migraine it thumped, demanding answers to questions as yet unformed.
Kasey would be only too glad to get home. Home, where her mother and Aleesha were sleeping peacefully, snug and safe beneath downy quilts.
“Thank You, Lord,”
she prayed, grateful for that small comfort on this bleak night.
The image of Adam, shoulders lurching with each grief-induced sob, haunted her mind.
Nothing happens without a reason, she thought; it hadn’t been an accident that she’d arrived precisely as Mrs. Cameron was delivering her mercy sermon.
It was like a riddle with no solution, the
why
of the woman’s loving yet stern tongue-lashing.
Kasey sighed with frustration.
Maybe Adam’s secret was nothing more than some insignificant transgression, and his shame and guilt were the result of letting too many recriminations blow the thing all out of proportion.
Because, for the life of her, Kasey couldn’t convince herself Adam could be capable of doing anything sinful.
Even if he had, the deed had been done somewhere in his dim, distant past. And if that was the case, didn’t he deserve the same comfort and compassion he’d so tenderly and lovingly doled out to Mrs. Cameron?
“Sweet Jesus,”
Kasey whispered,
“help me figure out how to help him.”
And when I hear what he’s been hiding,
she added silently, biting her lower lip,
please, please, please, give me the strength to listen with a forgiving heart.
It was a gray December day when they buried Mrs. Cameron.
She hadn’t been a member of the Ladies Auxiliary, had never joined parish committees, hadn’t belonged to any of the church’s many ministries, yet a hundred people braved winter’s icy winds to huddle around her rose-blanketed casket.
Anna, her husband and children, and Wade sat in the front row, shivering despite the tartan blanket covering their knees. Beside them, just outside the protective canvas awning, stood Adam.
From her place in the last row, Kasey watched as he closed his eyes, rested his chin on the tidy knot of his dark blue tie, clasped black-gloved hands behind his back. His broad shoulders slumped despite the pads sewn into his calf-length trench coat, and his mouth, set in a grim, thin-lipped line, trembled as Pastor Hill’s soothing tenor read God’s Word:
“We find many references to death in the Good Book. ‘…for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return…’ ‘the last enemy that is destroyed is death…’ ‘…a time to be born, and a time to die…’ to name a few.”
After reading some more comforting passages from the Bible, the reverend closed it, then scanned the quiet, con
templative crowd. And nodding, he smiled, lifted his arms high and looked up. “Yes, it’s true that our dear friend has passed from our sight,” he said, forefinger pointing toward heaven, “but God is looking at her now.” His sigh rolled over those gathered, as he held the Good Book to his chest. “Yes,
God
has welcomed her home.”
Hushed “amens” mingled with soft sobs. One by one, the friends of Mrs. Cameron walked slowly past her coffin, some dabbing their eyes with white tissues, others shaking their heads as if to say,
What a shame, what a loss.
When Anna stepped up, she slid a rose from the enormous cross-shaped arrangement, and leaned into her husband, who then led her and the children away.
Wade, too, took a flower. He stood a moment beside the shiny mahogany box, traced a finger over a gleaming brass handle, then quickly walked away.
The sounds were all too familiar to Kasey, who, at twelve, had consciously memorized the way mourners’ footsteps crunched over the gravel walkway; words of comfort, murmured as they passed the sleek black limo that had delivered the family from the funeral parlor; the quiet
thump
of closing car doors; engines revving and tires hissing over damp asphalt….