An Unholy Mission

An Unholy Mission by Judith Campbell Page B

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Authors: Judith Campbell
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Jim. “See you then. Will Frederick be coming?”
    Olympia looked over at the man who was standing across from her and listening to her half of the conversation “I’ll ask and see if he’s working at the bookstore tomorrow. Either way, I also want to know more about your plans for coming to stay with us for a while. Is that still in the works? ”
    Jim’s voice dropped. “I guess we need to talk about that, as well.”
    “Has something changed?”
    “Yes and no, but not significantly. I’d rather not talk about it on the phone.”
    “Okay, Jim. I’ll see you Saturday at nine at Lucky’s. I actually think I’ve been there, and you’re right about the potatoes.”
     Olympia hung up the phone and turned to the other most important man in her life. She held out her arms for the hug she’d bypassed earlier in her rush to call Jim, but when the embrace intensified, and Frederick’s hands began wandering north and south, Olympia pulled back and shook her head.
    “I don’t have a headache, my love,” she said with a preoccupied smile, “but if you go any further, I will have. Now is not the time.”
    “Tired of me already, are you?” Fredrick clapped his hands to his chest and struck a theatrical pose.
    “Nope, just tired, and if you listened to that conversation, concerned about something that may or may not be happening at the hospital.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know. That’s why I called Jim.”
    “Sit down, put your feet up and then tell me what’s bothering you. We’ve got all evening. I’m not hungry. I’ll get you a glass of wine for now, and we can send out for a pizza later on, if you want.” 
    When Frederick returned with their wine, he had a white linen napkin draped over his arm. 
    “Here you go, my love,” said Frederick, bowing low and handing Olympia her glass. “The very finest vin ordinaire chilled to perfection.”
     
     
    Luther Stuart was passing by the nurses’ station in the Transitional Unit when the charge nurse called out to say that visiting hours were over and asked if she could help him. 
    “I’m one of the chaplains,” he said, turning to her and holding up his cross. “I thought I’d just check in on Mrs. Farwell before I went home for the night. Is there a problem with that?”
    The charge nurse looked at Luther over the high counter surrounding the administrative area. “I suppose not. Has she asked you to come in?”
    “She told me that her husband wouldn’t be able to come in this evening, so I thought it would be nice to stop by and visit her. She said she gets lonely in the evenings, that she misses her family.”
    “Well, all right, Mr. Stuart, but if she’s sleeping, I’m going to ask that you not wake her. She’s very weak.”
    “Of course,” said Luther, flashing an appreciative smile at the woman behind the desk and turning in the direction of room 311. “Thank you, Sister, and God bless you.”
     
     
    Frederick and Olympia were out, walking hand in hand around the neighborhood. The crunch of dried November leaves punctuated their footsteps. The chill in the air reminded them that winter was not far off, but a companionable walk in fresh, cool air cleared the brain and helped digest the pizza.
     “So you think this Luther person is intruding on your territory, Olympia?”
     “I don’t know what to think. One minute he’s bending over backwards to be helpful to all of us, really. Then the next minute he’s standing behind me, hovering. I don’t like to say this, because I can’t put my finger on it, but something about him is making me uneasy.  Maybe it’s the super Christian thing. I never was comfortable with people who are constantly invoking Jesus or any other Higher Power all the time. You know, it’s a little like methinks the gentleman doth protest too much, to paraphrase Shakespeare.”
    “On the other hand, on day one he asked if you were married, did he not? Maybe he thinks he might still have a chance

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