Mr. Jude did not linger in the hospital longer than he needed to. His mind was an unhealthy jumble of emotions and events that had just transpired in the course of his visit. He negotiated his way as fast as evening traffic would allow down the road, his mind teeming with anticipation for news of the errand he had just given Jackson.
The moment he got to his house, he did not waste time getting out of the car and into the refuge of his house from whatever was brewing inside him. He did not waste any time reaching for his phone to dial Jackson's number. His fingers were urgent to fulfill a deep-seated need for reassurance.
"Hello, Mr. Jude," Jackson's firm voice reverberated through the line, full of confidence and finality. "The task you gave me is accomplished, and work has been done."
