Pastor Burns’ head moved back and forth against his pillow; even this simple gesture meant to indicate disagreement looked to be an arduous task.
“It’s… my time… and… Roy…” Each word came out strangled, as if he had to ration his energy for only the words most essential for conveying his message.
It boiled Cora’s blood on behalf of Pastor Burns that one of those words extracting precious energy from his body was the name of the traitorous son who had left his father, the Lakewood community, and God.
A complicated blend of sadness and anger surged through Cora, as she knew Roy Burns was not deserving of what was left of his father’s energy. He should be here by his father’s bedside, offering him words of comfort and prayer and preparing to fill his father’s shoes and take his place as the new leader of the church. Instead, he was who knew where—for he had not even left behind a letter telling his father where he was going—and engaging in who knew what kind of ungodly behavior.
Before he left, Roy was always making mischief around Lakewood and causing extra work for her father, the sheriff. It would not surprise Cora one bit if at this very moment he was intoxicated in some gambling hall while his own father lay dying. She knew she had to distract the pastor from any thoughts of his prodigal son.
“Oh God, our heavenly Father, have pity on Your children in great bodily weakness,” she prayed, imitating the words that the pastor himself used at the bedside of her favorite friend from childhood, who had died of infection at only twelve years old, a defining moment still etched in her memory. “May Your dear Son and the angels of Heaven accept Pastor Burns, comfort him with the Word of your goodness, and stay with him through eternity.”
As she prayed, the pastor limply held her hand, and his moans of pain, though still audible, began to taper. Before she could utter the final “Amen,” Doctor Davenport entered the room.
“Oh, thank God you are here!” Cora jumped to her feet. “There must be something you can do for him?” The desperation in her voice was evident, her eyes pleading as she held on to the smallest thread of hope.
Doctor Davenport, a squat, pot-bellied man with tiny round glasses that made his eyes look bigger than they were, set his bag at the end of the bed and began to examine Pastor Burns. After several moments, he somberly reached into his bag, pulling out a small vial. “I have seen this time and time again with this illness, and I regret to say that Pastor Burns is near the end now. The best I can do for him now is make his last hours comfortable.”
His somber eyes lingered on the pastor, and Cora knew that he took no pleasure in reporting this news. Pastor Burns was beloved throughout Lakewood, and the loss would be palpably felt among everyone in town.
The doctor pulled out a small dropper and placed it gently inside Pastor Burns’ parted lips, squeezing out the liquid. The pastor’s Adam’s apple moved up and down, struggling but eventually indicating that he had swallowed the substance. Within minutes, the groans ceased, and he slipped into what looked to be a peaceful slumber.
“The laudanum will keep his pain at bay. I will leave another vial here in case it wears off in the night but…” Dr. Davenport paused long enough to take a deep breath in before delivering his final assessment, “but I don’t expect he will make it to the morning.”
The doctor gave Cora a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, retrieved his bag, and exited the room, leaving Cora alone with the man who she loved as if he were her own father. Cora’s vision began to blur through the unspent tears taking residence in her eyes, but she tried not to let it show, knowing she needed to be strong for Pastor Burns in his last hours.
Blinking rapidly to usher them back inside, she kissed him on the forehead, whispered a promise in his ear not to leave his side, and then settled on the bedside chair, her long legs pulled up to her chest.
She did not realize she had fallen asleep on the chair beside the bed, still in the same curled position, until she woke up several hours later, stirred from sleep by the low moaning coming from Pastor Burns. It was late in the evening now, the sunlight fading to dusk. She remembered the second vial of laudanum the doctor had left, and she started to reach for it until the name that came from his mouth told her that these were not moans of physical pain, but of a deep sadness.
“Roy… you have to bring Roy home,” Pastor Burns said, his voice less strained now that his pain was medicinally managed.
Cora moved her chair closer to his bedside and grabbed his hand. “Roy left Lakewood years ago, Pastor,” she gently reminded him, believing him to be delirious in his dying state. But the pastor was surprisingly lucid, more alert than he had been for some time now, and he continued with insistence.
“Me and my boy. We never saw eye to eye, but I never stopped loving him with my whole being.” Tears filled his yellowed eyes as he spoke. “You will understand one day, when God blesses you with children. Even when they deviate from your hopes for them, choose a path for themselves that’s different than what you had in mind, you don’t stop loving them. And you never stop worrying about them, because they never stop being a part of your entire being.”
Every word that Pastor Burns spoke was clear and articulate. It was almost if he were back behind the pulpit instead of speaking from his deathbed. Cora remembered reading from a book many years ago that sometimes, just before the body gave way to death, the person may experience a sudden moment of clarity and lucidity. Grief caused Cora to tremble as she realized that she was currently witnessing this exact phenomenon, but she willed herself steady, acknowledging the need for a dying man to speak his peace before leaving the world.
“Roy was a good boy—and he’s still a good boy. Whatever he’s doing now, he’s doing it with his whole heart. A father just knows. The truth is, I was too hard on him. I was raising him by myself after his mother packed up and disappeared on us when he was still small. I put a lot of pressure on him, tried to make him conform to who I wanted him to be. He tried to show me who he was and what he wanted out of this world, but I didn’t listen. If I would have just accepted him for who he was, he might not have left.”
“You can’t talk like that, Pastor,” Cora said, recognizing that he was getting more upset and tiring himself the more he talked about Roy. “You were a great father. Roy left because he was selfish and didn’t appreciate how good of a father he had in you. You are not to blame, and you must not say these things.” Cora was speaking quickly now, desperate for the pastor to hear the truth in her words. She would not allow Pastor Burns to die thinking that he was a failure. Her face flushed and her body trembled with anger at Roy for causing his father as much anxiety on his deathbed as he caused him in his life.
“It’s true that we were both imperfect people, but I can’t absolve myself of all wrongdoing. That would be a mark of pride, and the Lord says that pride goeth before the fall.”
Cora nodded submissively. She did not want to argue with the pastor, but she also maintained her opinion about his good-for-nothing son. Although she never formed a close acquaintanceship with Roy, she remembered his antics—schoolyard fights, pulling reckless pranks around town, and, near the end before he left town, skipping out on church services entirely. His father had been counting on him to one day take over Lakewood Church when he got too old, but Roy had completely disregarded his wishes, insisting on living a life that was the opposite of what his father wanted for him. Then, one day, he just up and left without a word to his father about where he was going.
For months after Roy left, Pastor Burns was visibly burdened with grief, his tall stature hunched, the passion in his sermons noticeably muted. She thought about the emotionally distant relationship she had with her own father, who was not nearly as attentive to her as Pastor Burns had been to Roy, and she concluded then that Roy did not deserve a man as good as Pastor Burns to be his father.
He had thrown away the blessing from God that was a dedicated father. She was not alone in these thoughts. Many people in Lakewood had offered words of comfort to Pastor Burns when weeks went by without a word from Roy, and she was thankful at least that he had the community on his side.
“In the end, it doesn’t matter who is to blame. What is important is that we bring Roy home. I need you to promise me that you will do that, Cora. You must make sure that he receives everything that I left for him. This house and this land is rightfully his. And you must make sure that the people of Lakewood accept him once he is home. Just like the parable in Luke’s Gospel, when the prodigal son returns home.” Although Pastor Burns still spoke clearly, the lucidity not yet fading, Cora could tell through his breathless speech patterns that he was beginning to grow faint.
Cora struggled to form the words necessary to tell Pastor Burns that she could fulfill his request. She understood that what he was asking would be a huge undertaking, and given her own grudge she held against Roy, she was not sure she would be able to accomplish what he was asking her to do. Not only would she have to locate him—she had heard that he was living in another town ten miles away, but she couldn’t be certain—she would also have to convince him to return to the home he chose to leave behind and convince the community to forgive him. How could she do that when she wasn’t sure that she herself could forgive him for the way he had hurt his father?
But she also knew that she could not let Pastor Burns down. He was the one who had guided her in the sinners’ prayer to accept Jesus into her heart and who, shortly after, baptized her in the creek just outside the church when she was eight years old. He was the one who taught her everything she knew about God and was the reason she was a woman of faith to this day. He was her rock and the reason that her faith was still strong. She would not let him down.
“I promise, Pastor Burns,” Cora said, forcing confidence into her voice. “I will find Roy, and I will bring him home.”
Appeased by her acknowledgment of his dying wish, Pastor Burns relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes. Cora continued to sit by his bed, holding his hand and praying Psalm 23 over and over again:“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”
