“Are you okay?”
Brian sat up to see a man peering into the driver’s side window.
“I’m fine.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “I used to go to church
here.”
The man offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Vern King. I had to meet
a repairperson today. When I saw you slumped over the steering
wheel like that, I thought I’d better give a look-see. I didn’t know if
you were dead or alive.”
“I’m alive. I’m Brian Donelson,” he said, shaking the man’s hand
through the window. He climbed out of the car and leaned against
the door.
“Donelson? Bet you’re kin to Bill and Martha. Right?”
“Yes. I’m their son.”
“Thought so. I see your name on the prayer list pretty regularly,
and I’ve known your parents ever since I came here twelve years
back. Sorry about your mom.” Vern shook his head as he mentioned
Brian’s mother.
“Thank you.” Brian felt an anger he didn’t want to feel, and he
wondered again why his dad hadn’t told him about his mother’s
illness.
“Yeah. Me and the missus have been praying for her for a while.
She still comes to church, even sings along during the hymns. That
Alzheimer’s is a terrible, terrible thing.”
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