“No! No, Grandfather that isn’t the end.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You called me Grandfather. Have I truly earned the right?”
She sighed. “Yes. I believe you have, and I’m sorry that I ever said what I did. It was rude, and I wasn’t at all considerate. I need your forgiveness for how I acted.”
“Nonsense. I prefer that people speak honestly.”
Winchell arrived at that moment with her grandfather’s tray. “Dinner, sir.” He brought the tray in and placed it on the table beside the bed.
“Just set it here with me.” He patted the area beside him. “I have no energy for a lot of fuss. I’m really not hungry, but with it close at hand, I can sample it if I feel up to it.”
“I could help you,” Judith offered.
The old man shook his head. “Just go now. It’s getting late, and I don’t wish to discuss business. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
“Very well.” Judith got to her feet, wishing she could know if her words about Jesus had made any difference. Had he understood? Had she said the right thing? It wasn’t like she was a preacher who knew all the proper words to speak.
Oh,heavenly Father,please help him to understand the truth.
James Ashton sampled a piece of dinner roll. It was tasteless. Food held less and less appeal. The things that he had once loved to dine on were now ashes in his mouth. And on the occasion that something did taste acceptable, it generally soured in his stomach. He supposed it was all just a part of his dying.
He thought of Judith. She was so compelled to preach to him. She believed so completely that the Bible spoke the truth, that there was more to God than the simple fact that He had created the world and all that was in it. She saw Him as having an active part in her life. She believed He was present in the details of her day-to-day living. He could even say that she was passionate about her beliefs. He’d heard the way her voice had taken on notes of urgency.
Could she know what she was talking about?
Winchell returned with a glass of port. James generally had a single glass each night before bed. It helped him to sleep. The valet placed the port on the bedside table and straightened.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Winchell, do you believe in God?”
“But of course, sir.”
“Do you consider yourself a Christian?”
The man stared at him for a moment. James looked at him as if seeing him for the first time in a long while. Winchell had aged considerably in the last few years. The man was what?Sixty? No, sixty-five. Ten years his junior. His graying hair and wrinkled face bore witness to the years. He had spent his entire life in service.
“I do, sir,” Winchell finally answered.
“So you are of the opinion that there is something beyond the grave? Some form of life that carries on into an endless span of years? Eternity?”
“Yes ... sir.”
He could see the questioning in Winchell’s eyes, but of course the man would never actually ask what was on his mind. He had learned early on to speak when spoken to and offer opinion only when requested to do so.
“And what do you believe is required to become a Christian?”
The valet straightened. “Accepting Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.”
“And how does one do that, exactly?”
“Ask, sir. God is willing that none should be lost, the Bible tells us.”
“Do you read the Bible, Winchell?”
“I do indeed, sir.”
“And you believe that if I die without Jesus Christ as my Savior, I will perish to eternal damnation without God?”
