Blood Bayou by Karen Young

Author:Karen Young
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2009-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

AFTER LEAVING them, Jack had a jam-packed schedule. Among other things, it was Thursday, his regular day to visit Sojourner House. Then, as sometimes happened, everything that could go wrong did. So, by the time he left his office to go to Sojourner, he was cutting it close. He didn’t want to be late meeting Camille. He considered his time with her a gift, a direct answer to prayer. But he considered his mission at Sojourner a sacred pledge. Above all, he wanted to spend time with David Bergeron today. He might not have many more opportunities.

It always hit him straight in the heart to see David. He knew he would never get to the point where he could walk in the room and not be devastated at the sight of the twenty-one-year-old quadriplegic. Today David was upright in his chair, thanks to a variety of ingenious devices fastening arms, chest, and head in place as he watched a video monitor suspended from the ceiling at eye level. Keeping him alive were tubes, a shunt, numerous medications, and prayer. But from the look of him now, nothing short of a miracle would help much longer.

In spite of all that, David slowly turned his head and smiled in genuine delight when Jack knocked softly on the open door. “Rev! It’s about time you showed up. I’ve finally”—he paused to take a labored breath—“conquered this piece-of-trash video game you brought me last week.”

“Hah! Bragging again as usual.” Jack drew near and lightly punched him on one skinny arm. “It’s going to be embarrassing for you, big guy, when I take you down in about three minutes.”

The contest was on. It had a NASCAR theme; a passion of David’s. He’d once confided that as a kid he’d dreamed of being a NASCAR driver. But, he said he never could figure out how to do both law and competitive racing.

Today Jack played hard. David was a computer whiz kid. Video games were truly child’s play for him. In the beginning when they played, he had spotted Jack pulling his punches to let him win. He’d quickly and angrily demanded fair play. Now it had become a challenge for Jack to win a game.

Today David took him down in an embarrassingly short space of time. “I don’t get to practice as much as you,” Jack complained.

“Lame, lame,” David said, grinning. “Tell it to somebody”—he stopped, struggled for oxygen for his starving lungs—“dumber than me.”

Not only was David very weak but his color was off. Never healthy and pink, today his skin was pasty, nearly gray. He’d hoped Angela’s prognosis was mistaken, but he worried that it was on the mark. He glanced at his watch and saw that his visit was going on thirty minutes. David was fading fast. Jack dragged his stool a little closer. “I’ve stayed too long, Dave. But I’ll be back checking on you in a day or so. You want to pray with me now?”

David’s smile was weak but genuine. “Don’t I always?”

No, he hadn’t always.

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