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Pastor Jack was about to take off his clothes and retire for the night when the phone rang.
Nan answered, took in the bad news, and handed it to him. “It’s Bonnie Nelson.”
He greeted Bonnie. “Pastor, the hospice nurse doesn’t think my mother will make it much longer.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Did your sister and her children arrive?”
“They did. They got in around lunchtime today.” She paused before telling him what he already knew. “I know the weather is bad, but she would like to see you.”
“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll be right there.”
Sister Nelson gasped. “Oh no, Pastor, tonight isn’t necessary. I thought maybe in the morning if the roads are passable.”
“I think now is for the best.” He stood from the side of the bed. “I’ll be there soon.”
“You have to go now?”
“Her mother won’t keep.”
He left the bedroom with Nan following, shoved his feet in his boots, pulled his coat on and wrapped a scarf around his throat.
His wife crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are your gloves?”
Mischief filled his crystal-blue eyes. “Should I say they’re in the truck?”
Nan pursed her lips. “Would it be the truth?”
Pastor Jack smiled. “You know one day all the gloves you made for me are going to magically reappear.”
Nan walked to the desk, removed a pair, and handed them to him. He kissed her, thanked her, and with sorrow heavy on his heart, walked out the door.
