Free Finding Hope by Brenda Coulter Page B

closed her Bible and placed it on the table next to her. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
    â€œI was just rounding, Hope. I could have—”
    â€œOh, Charlie!” Her eyes clouded and her chin quivered. “Gramps is going to—”
    â€œI know,” he said softly. In mute sympathy he surveyed her tear-streaked face. His fingers itched to brush back the strands of loose hair that clung to her damp cheeks, but he was afraid to touch her and he didn’t know exactly why. He felt relieved when she tipped her head back, caught the errant strands with her fingertips and hooked them behind her small ears.
    â€œWouldn’t you rather be in there?”
    â€œHis family is with him,” she responded quietly.
    He bristled. “You belong in that room if anyone does. I’m sure you’ve done more for him than—”
    She cut him off. “Charlie, please don’t.” She lowered her wet, spiky lashes, hiding her eyes from him. “They all live out of town, and they don’t know me very well. They don’t realize how close Gramps and I have become in the past few years, so I can’t intrude on them now.”
    His fists clenched in impotent anger. What had the Seltzers said to make Hope feel her presence was an intrusion? Were they jealous of the sweet young woman who had befriended their father?
    Hope looked up, alarm darkening her eyes. “No, Charlie—it’s okay,” she soothed. “I sat with him all night. He gave me his blessing. And he asked me to thank you for visiting him.”
    Charles frowned. “I don’t visit him. I’ve said hello a few times, that’s all.”
    â€œOh, really?” Hope let him see she wasn’t buying it. “Last week he told me you sat with him one night while he ate his dinner. You even cut his chicken for him. He felt bad about being able to eat only two bites after you went to that trouble.”
    Her tears flowed again and Charles watched in silence as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Thank you for being nice to him,” she choked. “I’m so grateful that you took the time. I’ll never forget it, Charlie. Never.”
    His throat had closed and he couldn’t reply, so he covered her soft, trembling hand with his. Was this how her God took care of her? Was she to suffer this heartbreaking loss all alone?
    â€œHe’s ready to go home. He’s not afraid. It’s hard for me to let him go, but somehow, it really is okay, because he’s going to God and I’ll see him again. In a way, it’s really quite wonderful. I wish you could understand.”
    Charles let go of her hand and stood. He walked to the window and looked out, but he might just as well have stared at the blank, pale green wall, because he saw nothing. “All I understand is that it’s making you cry. How wonderful can that be?” He turned abruptly, as if he expected an answer from her.
    Her wet blue eyes were enormous in her pale face as she pressed a shaking hand against her mouth. Looking away, Charles silently berated himself for adding to her distress. After a moment he forced himself to face her again. “Do you want me to go check on him?”
    â€œI wish you would, Charlie.”
    He slid his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and nodded mutely, waiting as she struggled to say something more.
    â€œWould you tell him—” The voice was tiny, tentative. “Would you please just tell him that I—”
    â€œOf course I will,” he said, having already read her request in the limpid depths of her eyes.
    The memory of her tremulous smile haunted him as he walked back to John Seltzer’s room. He paused at the doorway, not wanting to go in, but he carried a message and he was bound to deliver it.
    When he entered, he found the men had gone and only two of the women remained. “I’m Dr. Hartman,” he told them. “A