Chapter 22
A week has passed since Etta was admitted into the hospital. Every day I wonder if it will be her last, but she keeps on keeping on.
“Do you want me to read to you?” I ask her. I’m sitting in the chair next to her bed, but I have it turned so I’m looking straight at her so she doesn’t have to strain her neck to see me. I’ve got her Bible in my lap because that’s what she usually asks me to read.
“No, I need you to write for me,” Etta says. Her voice is noticeably weaker.
I exhale before speaking. I have a feeling I know what’s coming. “Okay. Let me find some paper and a pen.” I hurry out to the nurse’s desk before my eyes begin to well up. “Do you have some paper I could use?” I ask the nurse on duty—her nametag reads Michelle—while trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.
