Each Shining Hour by Jeff High Read Free Book Online Page B

with sympathetic resignation.
    I sat dumbfounded, still gazing back and forth at them. “Okay, then what?”
    Estelle spoke first. “Go ahead, sweetie, you tell him.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    Estelle nodded confidently, almost conspiratorially. “Sure.”
    Connie took my hand. “Luke, darling, the simple answer is to ask Christine what she would like todo.”

CHAPTER 8
    The Phone Call
    T he sisters resumed cleaning up the kitchen. Meanwhile, I walked out to the back steps to clear my head and expel my foolish nervousness over one simple phone call. Rhett followed me. It was a clear, cold night and high above was a magnificent sky filled with crisp, radiant stars. After a few minutes, Connie stepped briefly onto the back porch with coat on and purse in hand. There was an uncommon tenderness to her otherwise stern voice. “Good night, Luke. I’ll see you at ten in the morning, dear.”
    â€œGood night, Connie, drive carefully.”
    I followed her back into the kitchen. She exited down the hallway and out the front door. Estelle’s departure was taking slightly longer. She would grab one or two items and then stop and stare ponderously, wanting to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Finally, she seemed satisfied that she was ready to go.
    I walked her to the door and onto the front porch, where she gave me a gushing hug before heading off to her car. Arms folded, I leaned against a column, in the glow of the porch light, and watched as the taillights of Estelle’s BMW turned off Fleming andvanished into the frozen, starlit night. Finally, I was alone and able to think.
    I loved the cold. It sharpened the senses and centered me. I breathed in deeply, expectantly of the frozen air. Reaching for my phone, I dialed Christine’s number.
    On the fifth ring, she answered.
    Except it wasn’t Christine. The female voice on the other end was geriatric, raspy, blunt.
    â€œWho is this?”
    â€œThis is Luke Bradford.”
    â€œAre you the doctor?”
    â€œWell, yes. I’m sorry, but I was calling for Christine Chambers. Is she there?”
    â€œYeah, yeah, hold your horses, lover boy.” What followed was something of a random mumbling, a running commentary spoken to the general air yet picked up by the phone. “You’d think they’d put a hold button on these fool devices.” There were several painful squelch tones as the keypad was pressed. “Oh, the heck with it. Smartphone, my foot. There’s nothing smart about these stupid things.”
    Then came the foghorn blast. “CHRISTINE!” Whatever elderly ailments this woman possessed, her lungs were notably in prime condition.
    â€œTelephone! It’s the doctor! What? Yeah, the doctor. He finally called.” There was a long pause. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”
    Although her previous words had been completely audible, the marked decibel increase indicated that she was again speaking intentionally into the phone. “Christine says she’ll be right here.”
    â€œOkay. Thank you.”
    â€œYeah, sure, sure.” For several painful moments, I heard the annoying sound of forced, heavy breathing pouring directly intothe receiver. I eventually held the phone at arm’s length, looking at it in comic disbelief. Then I heard her speaking again.
    â€œSo, you went to Vanderbilt, huh? Did you like that place?”
    â€œUm, yeah, sure. It was a good school.”
    â€œDid you play football there?”
    â€œNo, I went there for med school.”
    â€œJust as well. Their football team never seems to have much punkin’.”
    I wasn’t sure what that term meant, but I politely went along. “They play in a pretty tough conference.”
    â€œYeah, whatever. Guess that’s as good an excuse as any. Oh, here’s Christine.” In a poorly muffled voice, she declared, “It’s him.”
    Finally, Christine was on