“Ben, are you sure everything is okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. It’s all good.” He nodded toward the porch. “Careful where you step.”
Sara tiptoed around the broken planks and down the stairs.
When the door closed with a gentle bang, Ben slumped against the counter, unable to move as the cell phone’s persistent sounds beckoned him.
Not today, Lord.
Tomorrow he’d call them. Tomorrow.
The phone kept ringing, and he continued to ignore the plea, unable to answer and hear the pain in their voices, knowing he had put it there.
His sister had gone in for a simple tonsillectomy. They’d all laughed because she’d be the oldest kid on the unit.
He’d assured his parents they didn’t have to come home. Of course he’d take care of things. Except he was called away on an emergency, and when he arrived at the hospital and walked down the hall toward her room, something was very wrong.
The flurry of activity.
A code in process.
He began to run. Slamming through her doorway in time to hear the code called.
Time of death: 3:45 p.m.
Carolyn.
Ben closed his eyes tightly.
Oh, Carolyn. He’d let her down. Let them all down.
Sorry. So very sorry.
Not his fault. That’s what his parents had said over and over again. But how could anyone forgive him when he couldn’t forgive himself?
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