precipitation was more ice than rain. Snow threatened. Ted pressed a
hand to the window.
"Waiting for Santy Claus?"
wheeled around. Shelia. Antlers on her head. A bracelet of bells that
jingled as she reached for his wrist, searching for a pulse.
much time have I got?"
ain't the doctor, honey. Ain't even a nurse."
I last until Christmas?"
voice softened. "You want me to call someone?"
you think you've spent your time here wisely?"
snapped her gum, considering. "I got me a man I love and three
beautiful children who are kind and loving. We ain't never going to
be millionaires, but our bills are paid and we got a roof over our
heads. I guess we been pretty wise, me and him."
smiled. "Merry Christmas, Shelia."
be saying that yet, Reverend. We got two weeks yet, and I got some
shopping to do after payday."
problem with being a pastor was that you only heard of the troubles.
People called at all hours of the night, talking of divorce,
unemployment, illness. But once the trouble had been resolved, people
wouldn't have minded knowing that his words had helped; wouldn't have
minded knowing the afters
of the lives of people he'd counseled.
on you, Ted, his
father, the great Reverend Williams, would have said, contending once
again, that Ted was a sinner. When
his father'd caught Ted staring at a woman in church, he told his son
he ought to pluck his eye out. Instead Ted had married her.
had three children, sent them all to college, and always, until
Margaret's death, had a roof over their heads. They paid their bills
His father told him he was a failure.
smiled. "You look beat. Want me to help you into bed?"
Shelia brought the blankets up, Ted remembered Margaret's last words.
come back for you.
would be waiting.
Kelly Garriott Waite on Google+
Labels: flash fiction, Trifecta Writing Challenge