“The chaplain is downstairs,” I said, looking at the blank signature line on the power of attorney form peeking out from under his hand. “But Gary said we should wait until the estate papers are finalized next month.”
Ben rubbed his left temple harder, his eyes closing for a brief second. “The doctors say the treatment is going to be incredibly expensive, and I cannot manage the billing from this bed.”
I reached out and touched his hand, feeling the dry heat of his skin. “I promise I will sign it, Ben. Let’s just get through the vows first.”
He let out a long, slow breath, his fingers relaxing their grip on the yellow pad just enough for me to see the blank line waiting for my pen.
By seven o’clock, the autumn shadows had stretched across the linoleum floor of Room 312.
The hospital chaplain, a small man with a worn black binder, stood near the window while Nurse Evelyn remained near the door, her hand still resting on her ID badge.
