Page 78 of Counted

She loved him—shelovedhim—and he was going to die.

12

Jude wasanxious and slightly jittery as he stood on the sidewalk in front of a set of worn concrete stairs. He was unsure what he was even doing here.

Eve had driven into town with him and had been blessedly quiet all morning. Now she reached over and touched the sleeve of his shirt just above where he’d rolled it up to his elbow. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want.”

He shifted his eyes to the familiar double doorway above the steps. “I know. I’m not sure why, but I think I want to.”

“Okay.” She squeezed his forearm before she dropped her hand. “I’m going to walk over to that coffee shop and read. Take your time. You can come find me when you’re done.”

He nodded and cleared his throat. Sitting in a coffee shop and reading with Eve sounded a lot better than walking up those stairs, but he’d decided to do it. Eve had talked it through with him last night before they’d gone to sleep, and she’d landed on this suggestion. He’d agreed. Wanted it. Hoped it might settle something restless inside him. So now he muttered, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

She hesitated, her eyes soft and worried. Then she pulled his head down as she stretched up to kiss his mouth lightly. “You can just go in and sit there for a little while, Jude. It doesn’t have to be a huge step or an earth-shattering revelation. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her again. “That’s easier said than done.”

She chuckled. “I know it is. All right. I’m going to stand here until you walk in. Then I’ll head to the coffee shop.”

It was a wise strategy on her part. With Eve right there waiting on him, he couldn’t delay any longer. It would be embarrassing. So he squared his shoulders and walked up the steps. Pulled open one of the doors and stepped into the narthex of the church.

The building was quiet. Dimly lit. The familiar smell of the old building filled his senses. The inner doors were already open, so he walked down the central aisle.

There were three other people here—one older lady on her own and a couple in their sixties. They’d probably lingered to pray after Wednesday-morning Mass.

He and Eve had returned from Egypt on Monday. They’d both been exhausted, so they’d rested most of the day yesterday. He should have used today to write the final scene of his book, but he still didn’t want to do it. This afternoon he would try to work on revisions, but this morning he was here. Doing this.

Eve had offered twice to accompany him, but he’d refused. Her presence would make him feel better, but it also might keep him from doing what he wanted to do.

Which was sort through the angst-ridden tangle of spiritual questions in his mind.

He didn’t want to die without answers.

He walked about halfway down the aisle, genuflected while making the sign of the cross toward the altar, and then sat in oneof the pews on the right. He didn’t kneel, but he leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs.

What the hell was he even doing?

He’d decided three years ago to give up on all this stuff.

His mother’s faith. No longer his.

But now he was going to die from the same thing that killed her.

Last night he and Eve had made love under the covers after they’d gone to bed. Then they’d lain together for a long time in silence, neither of them speaking. When the aftermath of his release had cleared enough for him to think, he’d been hit with a series of intense, random reflections.

Holding Eve that way was important. Significant. It changed and emphasized and defined him.

He needed it. In a way he never could have predicted, it revealed to him who he was and who he was supposed to be.

That was why his mother had so often encouraged him to get married. She’d understood him better than anyone except Eve, and she’d known that something about him had needed to be a husband.

As if he’d never be able to give all of himself without the external bond of commitment.

How had she known? Why was he even like that? Why couldn’t he have chosen to be this person earlier?

And why did he now have only a little over a month to be the husband he wanted to be?

Eve had asked him last night what he was thinking about, so he’d told her an abbreviated version. She’d listened and reflected on it and had finally said that he was a really good husband. Then she asked why he’d proposed three years ago.