The old woman raised a fluttering hand and caressed Bea’s cheek.
Bea leaned into it, placing her own hand against the woman’s. “It’s okay, lady. You’re gonna see Jesus soon.”
The woman’s eyes grew large. A tear slipped down her cheek. She started babbling to Bea.
“I know. I know.” Bea gently touched the woman’s cheek with her other hand. “He’s coming for you.” She looked down at the wheelchair. “You won’t need this in heaven.” Bea’s head popped up. “Can I have it? This looks like fun.”
The woman bubbled with giggles. Spittle drooled out one corner of her mouth.
The nurse jumped to wipe it away but Bea beat her to it and wiped her hand on her shorts.
The woman cooed. In her own world she seemed to made sense.
Made sense to Bea too. Because Bea answered back in the same language.
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