Four
MY RINGING PHONE JARS me from a fitful sleep. I sigh when I see it’s 1:00 a.m. I've grown accustomed to these types of calls, the sad voice on the other end asking me to come to the bedside of a loved one who’s dying.
Just part of the job. The worst part.
I don’t even look to see who it is. Instead, I just answer the call and say, “Hello, Father Tom here.”
But I am completely unprepared for what I hear.
Anna says, a tinge of panic in her voice, “Tom, you need to come over here right now.”
In the background, Helen’s yelling, “I told you not to call him! Just give it to me and I’ll be fine!”
Without hesitating, I say, “Anna, I’ll be right there.”
***
