At some point in the night, Steve woke up, turned on the lamp, and jotted down notes on the tablet. They chronicled his odyssey through Harold’s Bible and provided me with much of the contents of Chapter XXXII. There were also some jottings about Pastor Engstrom’s visit which I fleshed out later in an interview with him. He started writing about something else, but his scrawl trailed off mid-sentence as drowsiness overcame him. Mary had heard him fidgeting. Noting that he had fallen back to sleep, she gently leaned him backwards into the recliner and lowered it, placing the contents of his lap on the side table. She turned off the lamp and went back to bed.
At 8:30 the next morning, the sun shining through the east windows reached Steve’s eyes and woke him up. For a few minutes, he lay there bathing in its warmth. He soaked it up and for the first time since his double loss, he actually felt glad to be alive.
Mary, quick to hear the slightest rustle, tiptoed to the archway where she stopped and took in the scene before her—her dying friend reclining in the fresh morning light, a smile as deep and broad as happiness itself transforming his wasted face. Without turning his head, Steve sensed Mary’s presence.
“Good morning, Mary,” he said with some conviction.
“Good morning, Steve. How are you feeling this morning?”
“A little like those two disciples must have felt at the moment when Jesus broke the bread and their eyes were opened.”
“Really!”
“And I’m about as eager to get to chapel this morning as they were to get back up to Jerusalem.”
“That’s shouldn’t be a problem. We have an hour before we have to leave.”
An hour later, Dr. Pearson’s old DeSoto pulled up to the curb in front of the chapel. Mary got out of the car on the driver’s side and came around to help Steve get out on the curb side. Leaning on her arm, he inched along the sidewalk to the steps where, grasping the handrail with both hands, he slowly pulled himself to the top. Once there, he grabbed the latch on the heavy door and hung on, wincing in pain. Taking a deep breath, he nodded at Mary who opened the door. From the narthex, it was a simple matter to reach a short pew along the wall in the left rear corner of the spacious nave. He eased himself into it and sat down. Mary leaned over to him as though asking a question. He nodded in return and smiled back at her. Then she went up the nearby steps to a seat in the balcony.
By now, students were trickling into the balcony. Dr. Halverson, the concert choir’s renowned director and son of the choir’s founder, was surveying these students. This would be a treat. The concert choir rarely sang for chapel.