A Holiday Miracle Part III
By: P.G. Barnett
Tags: Short Story, Fiction, Stories, Henry And Sunny, Storytelling

My name is Sunny Alexander, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Part I, Part II

Never is such a long time. When the words came out of Damen’s mouth, we both gazed at each other and shared acknowledgment of a single emotion.

Things weren’t looking too good for Jericho at the moment.

“Damen, is there anything you can do?”

“We’ve already done everything, Sunny. Now it’s up to him and fate.”

“Don’t know if I like those odds, Damen.”

“I’m sorry, Henry, I really am, but there’s nothing we can do now but wait. Look, I’ve got rounds. But I’ll come back and check on him and Ruth. Are you guys planning on sticking around a bit?”

“Not for long. We really need to get back. I guess Ruth will need to come with us.”

“How about this, Sunny? I’ve got some friends here at the hospital she can stay with. They can make sure she’s taken care of and ferry her back and forth to be with her brother.”

“You sure?”

“Positive Sis. She’ll be fine. Besides, you’re going to want to get out ahead of the snowfall anyway.”

“Snow? It never snows in Houston.”

“Not true, Henry. Two years ago, we had snow in November. I haven’t taken a look outside lately, but I’m willing to bet we’re already starting to get a light dusting.”

“Could this year get any weirder?”

“Any year spent with you, Henry is guaranteed to be weird.”

“Yeah, I’ve always said he’s a magnet for this kind of crazy.”

“Ya know what you two? You can..”

“We know Henry. We can bite your ass. Okay, let me go give Ruth the plan. Damen, we can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

“No problem Shaundrika. She’ll be fine.”

We all stood, and after a handshake and a hug, Damen nodded, then turned and walked away.

“Sit tight, Henry. This will only take a minute.”

“No problem. Hey, if Damen’s right about the weather, you need to make it snappy.”

“Chill old man. This won’t take long.”

And it didn’t. That’s because we discovered Ruth was no longer there beside Jericho’s bed in the ICU area.

“Where the hell did she go?”

“Bathroom, maybe?”

“Okay, go take a look.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Alexander. I’m not about to go poking my head into a lady’s bathroom.”

“Fine, I’ll go look. You start scouting around. We don’t leave until we’ve filled her in, got it?”

“Yes, mon Capitan.”

“Stop joking around James and start looking.”

After parting company and when left to my own devices, I began to think about Ruth, try to put myself in her place. Sunny may have been right. Maybe she did just have to go pee, but she’d hardly eaten anything when we stopped for lunch.

As one who marches on his stomach, I guessed maybe she’d gone down to the cafeteria on the ground floor, to shag something. When my intestines began to rub against themselves with a shrill whine, I told myself maybe I needed to find something for me as well.

When I stepped out of the elevator and gazed at the signs on the wall, I took the suggested path toward the chow hall, passing a vast expanse of glass doors on my left.

I caught a glimpse of her, then backed up and stopped.

She was sitting in an outside dining area centered in the middle of the hospital wings. Her eyes closed, her hands clasped together, and tucked against her chest.

Damen had been right about the snowfall.

Gazing at Ruth, I saw tiny white flakes drift down against her hair and shoulders, instantly disappearing as the heat of her body melted them. Aside from a gentle outward, then an inward motion of her hands against her chest, she seemed content to sit there beneath the snowfall.

Although I didn’t want to disturb her, I knew I had to at least let her know what we planned. Besides, in her frail condition, sitting in the cold, eventually becoming drenched, the chilled night air would probably make her ill.

At this point, half of her entire family was already in the hospital. This didn’t need to become a complete family affair.

As I neared the glass doors, an actuator opened the doors inward. I was met with a chilling rush of air, and thrust my hands into my jean pockets, stopping near her, not saying a word. Although she kept her eyes closed, a slight turn of her head acknowledged she was aware of someone standing nearby.

“Ruth, honey. You need to come inside.”

She continued to clutch her hands together at her chest.

“Mr. Henry?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Do you believe in God?”

“Yes, I suppose I do.”

“So do I, And I believe God brought you and Miss Sunny into me and Jericho’s lives for a reason.”

“I think it had more to do with dumb luck, Ruth.”

“No, dumb luck don’t exist. Although my brother did a stupid thing, Jericho could have tried robbing any bank. There was a ton of ’em between your bank and our house. But he chose your bank, Mr. Henry. Yours. And not only did God help Jericho find your bank, but he timed you going inside at the exact same time. God wanted Jericho to meet you and Miss Sunny. He sent you and Miss Sunny to help us when I was dying, and we didn’t have no money. And now, we’re together again, ain’t we, Mr. Henry?”

“Yes, hon, I believe we are.”

“What do you suppose God’s trying to tell us, Mr. Henry?”

“I honestly don’t know, Ruth. Honey, please let me take you inside. This cold and damp isn’t good for you. You need to stay fit for Jericho right now. Like he did for you. You need to take care of him.”

Ruth sighed, a prolonged release of breath, clouds of condensation from her lips billowing into the night air, then she unclasped her hands and grasped the wheels of her chair.

“Suppose you’re right. I need to be there when Jericho wakes up, huh?”

I paused, not really sure if my comment would assure her with any amount of sincerity then said, “yes, sweetheart, you do. Come on. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

Let’s keep in touch: paul@pgbarnett.com

© P.G. Barnett, 2019. All Rights Reserved.