“Don’t let Arthur take what belongs to the church.”

Wade came up on the other side of the bed and leaned over the chrome rail to hold her left hand.

She looked from her son to me, a faint trace of her old smile showing at the corners of her mouth.

“I kept my promise to you,” she whispered, looking directly into my face.

She let out one long, quiet breath, her eyes closing gently as her head tipped against the pillow.

Helen took the stethoscope from her pocket, held the cold bell to Margaret’s chest for five seconds, and turned toward us.