“You don’t think you’re good for her.”
“Of course I’m not good for her.” Who would argue that point?
The priest smiled at me. “Maybe you weren’t always good for her. But it’s not a fatal condition. St. Augustine said it best—‘It was pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes men as angels.’”
I didn’t know what he was trying to tell me, so I said nothing.
“If you love Sophie, let her make up her own mind about it.”
Of course I loved Sophie. It’s just that I didn’t trust myself.
Father Peters stood up and squeezed my good elbow. “Once you’re on your feet, I’ll expect you on Wednesday nights again. Merry Christmas, Jude.”
If only.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jude
Cravings meter: unconscious
The trip to the Shipleys’ was harder than I thought it would be.
I sat in the passenger seat of Griffin’s truck, clenching my jaw every time the gravel road became uneven.
“Sorry, man.” Griff gave me a sidelong glance, his hands clutching the steering wheel.
“S’ okay,” I said through gritted teeth. My surgical wound was healing up nicely according to the doctor who discharged me from the hospital. But I had all the bone-deep aches of someone who’d been beaten to unconsciousness three days ago.
Griff parked the truck closer to the farmhouse than he usually did, as if transporting someone’s grandma. “If you can get yourself inside, there’s a piece of pie in it for you.”
“That’s some serious motivation.” I turned to Griff, “I really can’t thank you enough for this. I hate that you have to take me in.”
Griffin frowned. “Let me ask you a question—if I showed up on your doorstep after someone beat the shit out of me, would you let me in?”
“Of course I would.”
“Right.” He shrugged. “So don’t sweat it. Let’s go eat pie.”
I couldn’t use my right arm to open the truck’s door. So I slowly turned my torso in order to reach across my aching body with my left hand.
Griff got there first, though. The door opened before I could get to it. But at least Griff stood back and let me figure out how to use my left hand to exit the truck without killing myself.
He wasn’t wrong when he pointed out that I’d help him in a heartbeat. It’s just that I was always the one needing the help. I was sick of it. I was sick of me. Everyone else must be, too.
*
I’d assumed that the Shipleys would put me in the bunkhouse for a couple of nights. That’s where I’d stayed this summer. But Ruth Shipley had other plans. After I spent half of an achy hour at their dining room table over pie and coffee, she patted my hand.
“You look exhausted honey. Come with me.”
When I followed her into the Shipleys’ TV room, I saw that she’d already made up the couch for me with sheets, blankets and two pillows. Just the sight of it made me tired.
“Why don’t you see if you can nap?”
I think I fell asleep the second my head hit that pillow. And then I slept most of the next three days. It was the weirdest thing. I hadn’t slept so much in years. I woke up once in a while. Audrey handed me a mug of a delicious, spicy soup, once. Another time, May fed me a cookie. I woke up a couple of times to find Ruth Shipley standing over me with my doses of Suboxone and aspirin.
Sometimes Griff would sit down and declare that we were going to watch a movie, but invariably I’d drift off after the first hour. My dreams were tangled, incoherent things. I was wandering the edges of town on foot. Sometimes I was following Sophie and sometimes I was trying to evade her.
Then her brother stepped out from behind a tree, bleeding down his head and neck. “No you don’t,” he said. Gavin swung, and I ducked. Then I tried to make a fist and it didn’t quite work…
I woke with a gasp to find May Shipley’s worried face leaning over me. “Fuck,” I swore.
“Sorry!” She took a step backward. “Bad dream?”
“Yeah.” I was sweating like crazy. “Jesus.” I pushed the covers off and took a minute to get control of my rapid breathing.
“You okay?” May asked. “You’ve been asleep for so long we’re starting to worry.”
I scrambled to sit up, and my surgical wound didn’t hurt as much as it had a couple of days before. “I think I needed it. Haven’t slept much for three and a half years.”
“Aw.” She gave me a sweet smile, and I marveled at how easy I felt with this family.
“Would it be a pain in the ass if I took a shower?” I asked May suddenly. God knew I needed one.
“Nope. I was going to offer you that anyway. You’ll need the waterproof bandage. They sent three of them with you from the hospital. Hang on.”