Page 80 of Counted
It was true. Utterly true. But Jude couldn’t believe he’d admitted it out loud.
Father Paul was breathing more heavily now, searching for answers in Jude’s profile. “Areyouall right, Jude?”
He tried to respond but couldn’t. His throat had closed up so much he could barely breathe. Sucking in an odd, raspy breath, he closed his eyes.
“Have you told Eve what’s wrong?” Father Paul asked him, evidently recognizing there was more than a spiritual struggle at issue here.
“Yes. She knows.”
“All right. Good.” Father Paul put a hand on Jude’s back between the shoulder blades. He murmured out soft words that were obviously shaping a prayer.
Jude was so tense now he was almost shaking with it.
To his relief, Father Paul didn’t demand an explanation or push for an admission he wasn’t capable of making. Instead, he said mildly, “Whatever this is, God will walk you through it. You only need to let him.”
Jude made a choking sound. Didn’t dare look up or open his eyes.
Father Paul sat beside him for a few more minutes with a hand on his back. Then he got up and walked away, leaving him alone with nothing but convoluted thoughts and aching pleas and something that might have resembled a prayer.
Jude worked on revisions all afternoon. Since most of the chapters had already been revised multiple times and he’d played around with the final chapters several times over the past week, by six thirty he’d done everything he realistically needed to do on the book.
Except write the last scene.
That scene wasn’t going to be particularly long or complex, and he’d already worked out the whole thing in his mind. He could probably get a draft of it done in a couple of hours if he buckled down and focused on it.
He had time this evening. He should take a break for dinner and then jump into it. Get the damned thing done at last so he could check off another item from his list.
But he didn’t want to.
He simply didn’t want to write it.
This morning at church had been more emotionally difficult for him than he’d expected, so he wasn’t sure he had it in him to tackle another challenging hurdle today.
So when Eve came into the library and asked him about dinner—clearly prepared to be stubborn until he ate and took a rest—he told her he was done for the day.
The final scene would have to wait a little longer.
He wasn’t very hungry, so Eve asked Nancy for something light for dinner. Then she sat on the end of the couch and gestured him over.
Jude was feeling headachy. And undeniably needy. So he didn’t put up even a token resistance. He lowered himself to stretch out on the couch with his head in Eve’s lap. Then he closed his eyes and sighed when she started to rub his forehead.
“Thank you for doing this,” he murmured, wishing he didn’t sound so hoarse and exhausted all the time.
He used to work much longer hours than he’d done today. And he’d even stopped in the middle of the afternoon to take a short walk with Eve when she’d asked. He shouldn’t be so wiped out right now.
Even his headache wasn’t that bad. Mostly nagging at him rather than attacking him.
He shouldn’t need Eve this much.
Not today anyway.
“Could you still not do that last scene?” she asked after a few minutes of massaging his head.
“No.”
“That’s okay. If you’ve got the rest of the book done, you can get that last scene written pretty easily whenever you’re ready.”
“Yeah.” He had to bite back a moan when she moved her hands down to where his neck connected to his shoulders and started kneading the tight muscles there.