SIXTEEN

IRENE WAS SITTING IN CHURCH when her cell phone vibrated. She peeked at the caller ID and recognized the number of the health-care facility in Belvidere. Slipping into the foyer, she returned the call to find that Mr. Steele was in critical condition.

“What in the world?” she said. “We just saw him.”

“Actually, this is not unusual, ma’am. Alzheimer’s patients often have internal problems that don’t come to light except for random testing. They don’t understand or recognize pain, and often they complain of things that don’t exist while missing serious problems that do. Mr. Steele is undergoing renal failure and has already been moved to the hospital wing. He may soon be reclassified as grave. We have not succeeded in reaching your husband.”

“I’ll let him know, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Irene called Jackie, who said she would come right over from New Hope and take Chloe and Raymie to her home after church. Irene informed the kids’ teachers and rushed to her car, dialing Rayford’s number. She immediately got his voice mailbox, which reminded her that cell phones were verboten on the course at his club. She left a message, then called the clubhouse. They agreed to track him down.

By the time Irene pulled into the parking lot of the health-care facility, a hearse was parked at the curb. She prayed it wasn’t for her father-in-law and told herself there were a lot of old and potentially terminal patients here. On the other hand, she had never before seen a hearse here.

Rushing into the hospital wing, she was intercepted by her in-laws’ caseworker.

“I’m sorry, Irene,” the woman said. “He’s gone.”

Gone? “This makes no sense,” she said, reaching for the wall to steady herself. “So sudden.”

“I’ve made arrangements for you to talk with the physician, and there’s an aide who wants to talk to you.”

“Where’s my mother-in-law?”

“In her room. Sedated. You can imagine her tailspin.”

“I should see her.”

“She’s sleeping, last I heard.”

The doctor told Irene basically what she had been told when she was first called. “With Mr. Steele not being bedridden, we knew of no reason to monitor his urine output. He didn’t complain until this morning, but apparently he had been unable to eliminate for some time. His color was bad, and he was suffering by the time we diagnosed the problem. We moved him over here, but he had already suffered a kidney shutdown, and it was a race against time, which we obviously lost.”

Irene wanted to be waiting at the entrance when Rayford arrived, and she had to be reminded that an aide wanted to talk with her too. He was a young, fleshy Asian man wearing institutional blues. She asked him to join her in chairs near the door.

He introduced himself as Erap from the Philippines, and Irene noticed a faint blue tattoo of a tiny fish between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers. “I am a Christian,” he said.

“I am too,” Irene said.

“I know.”

“How?” she said. “Do I know you? I don’t recall meeting you.”

“My cousin works in the supervised care unit,” he said. “She told me she thought you were. But I know from Mr. Steele.”

“What? Mr. Steele told you?”

“Not in so many words.”

“I’m listening, Erap.”

“I could see that your father-in-law was dying. In fact, I called in the code blue. In the few seconds before they rolled in the crash cart, I asked Mr. Steele if he was conscious and could understand me. He was barely speaking, but he nodded. I told him he needed to get right with God and receive Christ.

“I asked if he knew he was a sinner and separated from God. He nodded. I asked if he believed Jesus died on the cross for his sins. He nodded. I asked if he was willing to pray and accept Jesus into his heart. He said, ‘I already did.’ I said, ‘You did?’ He said, ‘Yes, when my daughter-in-law told me how.’

“Mrs. Steele, I was there until they finished trying to save him. And those were his last words. I thought you would want to know.”

Cameron Williams told his mother he was going to try to get home during the holidays. “With the money for the plane ticket from the Globe and a little loan from my Welsh friend, Dirk, I should be able to make it.”

“Don’t go to any trouble, Cam. There’s no rush.”

How he wished he could believe that. Of course, his brother, Jeff, didn’t like the idea. “She’s not going to tell you how bad off she is, Cameron. And Dad can’t talk with her sitting right there. She looks terrible, hardly eats, can’t get around well. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but that’s where she ought to be.”

“That’s her call, isn’t it, Jeff?”

“’Course it is, but I’m telling you, she’s fading fast.”

“She sounded pretty good on the phone.”

“So you’re calling me a liar?”

“Come on, Jeff. We’re not in junior high anymore. I’m just saying she sounded fairly perky. And she was so proud of this honor I’m getting. She wants me to bring her pictures and news clippings.”

“So you’re coming when?”

“If I can find a few more bucks, I’ll book a flight for the day I return to Princeton from Boston.”

“How much more do you need?”

“A couple hundred. I can get one of those supercheap nonrefundables if I book it this week.”

“I’ll put a check in the mail today.”

“Jeff, I can’t ask you to do that. I—”

“You didn’t ask. Come on, Cam. This isn’t for you or about you. It’s about Mom. You should be here tomorrow to be safe. What’re we looking at now, ten days?”

“Twelve.”

“Gimme a break.”

“I’ll see you then, Jeff. And thanks.”

“Whatever.”

Irene was not sure how the loss of his father truly affected Rayford. He was shocked, of course, at the suddenness of it, but he quickly seemed to go into business mode, making sure his mother was taken care of and that the funeral did justice to his father’s memory.

Unfortunately, the funeral was held at the family’s longtime church, Central Church. “I swear,” Irene told Rayford as they prepared to leave for the church, “if there is no mention of your father’s faith during the eulogies I’m going to say something.”

“No.”

“No? What are you saying?”

“Don’t embarrass me or the pastor.”

“It would embarrass you to have people know that your father was a true believer?”

“A deathbed convert is more like it, Irene. After your browbeating and that Filipino kid’s badgering, what choice did a confused, dying man have? Anyway, he’s already known in this church as a true believer for a lifetime.”

“This won’t be doing justice to your father.” This was the last thing she wanted to fight over, but it was as if she couldn’t help herself.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything weird, Irene.”

“You’d consider it weird if I merely told the truth?”

“I’d be humiliated.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, despising that she felt so weak. “I won’t humiliate you, Rayford.”

“Thank you.”

“I do wish your mother could be here. You couldn’t stop her from telling the truth.”

“Depends on your idea of truth,” he said. “People would pass it off as the ravings of an Alzheimer’s patient.”

“But I would know better. And so would you.”

“You know what I think, Irene. The truth is my dad has always been a Christian. He didn’t just get religion before he died.”

__

On the way into the service, Rayford was accosted by his childhood Sunday school teacher. She tearfully wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, dear. Your father was a great man.”

“Yes, he was, Mrs. Knuth. Thank you.”

Irene couldn’t keep from weeping throughout the service. It was worse than she expected. While all the familiar Scriptures about death and rebirth were employed, nothing that was said explained them or brought the point home. Mr. Steele was revered, but there was no mention of his coming to a saving belief in Christ, no mention of his ever repenting of sin and putting his faith in God.

Irene was still crying on the way home, quietly grateful that the weather had finally turned and she would not be a golf widow again until spring. Rayford surprised her by putting a hand on her knee as he drove. “I do appreciate all the time you took with my parents,” he said. “I really do.”

His voice sounded quavery, and it was as close to tears as she had seen him in years.

“That’s not over,” she said. “I’ll keep seeing your mom, of course.”

“But they’re saying she’s already almost as bad off as Dad was mentally. Incoherent, and refusing to come today unless Dad came with her.”

“All the more reason.”