She watched, horror-struck, as Gil reached his father first, followed close behind by Dr. Walker. With the assistance of the doctor, Gil gently turned his father onto his back and knelt so that Reverend Chadwick’s head could be elevated in his lap. Dr. Walker loosened the preacher’s shirt collar.
Faith could see that the preacher’s face was ashen, his eyes closed. She could hear him breathing, but his respirations sounded rattley and snoring.
People began to leave their pews. An anxious murmuring arose. She heard her father praying aloud, asking the Lord to save the old preacher.
“I think he’s had an apoplexy,” Faith heard Dr. Walker say to Gil. “We’ll need to carry him to my office.”
* * *
Assisted by Sheriff Bishop, Gil lifted his father from where he’d been lying by the pulpit. The old man felt so light, as if a puff of wind could blow him away. Lord, please save Papa. Please don’t take him yet...
It wasn’t far to the doctor’s office. Dr. Walker paced alongside Gil and Bishop, peppering Gil with questions—had his father complained of a headache? Dizziness? Unusual fatigue? Numbness or tingling of his limbs? Pain in his chest? To all of these, Gil shook his head. His father had been his usual cheerful self before church, and had eaten a good breakfast.
A number of people followed them, and some of these lingered in the waiting room with him. He was vaguely aware of Faith sitting in the midst of them, and he remembered with a pang the dinner he had hoped to have with her. But he couldn’t think of her now, nor of the whispered prayers and conversations around him. Instead, he besieged Heaven with silent pleas of his own. And when he could think of no other way to ask that his father be spared, he added, Lord, help me to be willing to accept Your will, if You decide to take him Home.
* * *
“Is my father...still with us?” Gil asked, an endless time later, when Nolan Walker emerged from his examination room. Walker was followed by his wife, Sarah, who often helped him with his patients. Gil looked for clues to what Walker would say. Had his father gone to be with God, leaving only the shell of his body behind?
Nolan Walker nodded. “He’s breathing, but as to whether he will live...” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t know, Gil. It does seem to be an apoplectic attack, as I thought in church. It’s in God’s hands now, and the next few hours will be critical. If he lives, he may suffer paralysis and be unable to speak. I’ll keep him here for now and watch him closely. His heartbeat is strong, and his breathing is regular at least. Perhaps by morning we’ll know more.”
“Is he...is he awake? May I see him?”
“He’s still unconscious, but of course you may see him,” Walker said. “Stay as long as you like.”
Because it may be the last time you spend with him, Gil knew Walker was thinking.
Gil followed the doctor into his examination room on legs that felt wobbly as a newborn calf’s.
* * *
Faith couldn’t have said why she’d accompanied the pillars of the town, Mayor Gilmore; Mrs. Detwiler, the town matriarch; Mr. Avery, the bank president; and Mr. Wallace, the postmaster as they followed Gil and Sheriff Bishop carrying the old preacher to the doctor’s office—she only knew she had to be there for Gil’s sake, even though she could not bow her head and join the others in praying for the stricken preacher. She could not have gone home and merely hoped for the best.
And now she didn’t know why she remained. It wasn’t likely Gil would be leaving his father’s side soon. The others had departed, asking Faith to convey their best wishes to Gil.
A few moments later, Dr. Walker returned to the waiting room. “I’m glad you are still here, Miss Faith,” he said in his down-east Maine accent. “I need to ask you a favor.”
She blinked. “Whatever I can do, Doctor.”
“I remember you were one of the nurses who helped us during the influenza epidemic, and I was hoping I could call on your nursing ability once again. Someone will need to watch over the reverend through the night. Ordinarily, my Sarah handles this, you know, but she’s been so tired, since she’s expecting...”
Sarah Matthews Walker, and her sister, Milly Matthews Brookfield, had been Faith’s friends long before they’d met their husbands, but they experienced pregnancy very differently. Milly had never felt better in her life, and carried on her routine as a ranch wife just as energetically as before, but Sarah tired very easily these days and was looking a tad peaked, although her face remained as serene as ever.
“Of course, Doctor Walker, I’ll be happy to help in any way I can,” Faith said, pleased that there was actually something she could do for the preacher and his son, because she couldn’t pray. “I’ll return this evening after supper, all right?”
“God bless you, Miss Faith. You’re a good woman. But as I told his son, Reverend Chadwick’s condition is tenuous, to say the least. It’s a distinct possibility he will pass away during the night or even before you return. That might be for the best, if he is not to regain consciousness. As a fellow Christian, I know he looks forward to Heaven, as we all do.”
Nolan Walker assumed she shared his belief in the hereafter. This was not a time to disagree.
“Yes, Doctor. I hope he recovers, of course, especially for Gil’s sake,” Faith said. “I’ll do everything I can to assist in that.”
The doctor nodded. “I have every confidence in you, Miss Faith.”
Would the physician still feel that way, and continue to look at her with such respect and gratitude, if he suspected her lack of faith?
* * *
“I wish we could talk you into eating something, Gil,” Nolan Walker said as he walked Gil to the door of his office. “Sarah saved a plate for you.”
Gil sighed. “I’m not hungry, Nolan, thanks. I’m not even sure if I’m doing right to let you talk me into going home for the night. What if...” He couldn’t put his dread into words, but he knew the doctor understood.
Walker put a hand on his shoulder. “The parsonage is right across the street,” he reminded Gil. “We could summon you in a minute if there’s any change. You need to go home and get some rest. If your father survives the night—and so far he’s holding on—you’ll need your strength. Ah, there’s Miss Faith now, come to sit up with him.”
Just as the doctor had said, Faith Bennett had just opened the gate and was making her way up the walk. She wore a dark skirt and waist and her gleaming auburn hair lay neatly coiled at her nape. She looked all business, but her eyes softened as she caught sight of him standing in the doorway.
“Hello, Reverend Gil,” she said, addressing him informally as he’d requested of all the townspeople when he’d come to town, to avoid the confusion caused by two Reverend Chadwicks. “How is your father doing?”
He shaded his eyes against the setting sun. “Just the same, I’m afraid,” he said. His throat felt tight with emotion as he thought of his father lying crumpled and motionless at the base of the pulpit. He should be grateful that the old man still lived, he reminded himself. While there was life, there was hope, wasn’t there? “He’s no worse at least, thank God.”
Her green eyes held endless depths of sympathy. “And how are you holding up, Gil? This must be so hard for you, seeing your father like this. It’s good that you’re going home to get some rest.”
“I’m all right, Miss Faith,” he said quickly, although nothing could be further from the truth. He felt so weary that he hardly knew how he would reach the other side of the street, and so shaky after watching the shallow rise and fall of his father’s chest all afternoon that her sympathy caused his eyes to sting with unshed tears. “Look, I don’t feel right about you having to sit up with