Heaven Preserve Us Read Online Free PDF Page A

were just talking. He didn't look so hot. In fact, his assistant-" I pointed toward the office to indicate Maryjake, and he
nodded his understanding, "-told me before I came up that he
wasn't feeling well this morning. His speech was slurred, he
couldn't seem to catch his breath, and then he threw up. After that
he kind of turned gray and collapsed." I craned my neck to try and
see if I had Heaven barf on my behind, then realized how strange
my contortions must look.
    He had a few more questions, but I couldn't really shed any
more light on the situation. When he'd finished, Mr. Paramedic
gave me a smile and thanked me.
     
    As I noticed his pretty white teeth, the little voice that lived in
the back of my brain noted ironically that having sex on a regular
basis seemed to have a kind of ripple effect; getting more, I wanted
more. It then reminded me not to leer, and I complied. I did, however, continue to stand with my back to the wall as he walked away
so I wouldn't inadvertently show any unsavory smears that might
be on my backside.
    "Is he going to be okay?" I called.
    The paramedic turned. "I don't know." And this time he didn't
smile, not one bit.
    Suddenly my calm didn't seem so laudable. Suddenly I felt like
a horrible person. Philip was obnoxious and silly and rude and
terribly inefficient, but I didn't want anything truly bad to happen
to him. I mean, so he called me babe all the time. It was kind of
cute, really.
    Wasn't it?
    I leaned against the wall and covered my face with my hands.

    They took Philip off to the hospital, and I sent a hysterical Maryjake
home. I stayed to answer the Helpline, until Ruth Black showed up
for her volunteer shift. I practically wept on her shoulder when she
walked in the door, I was so grateful to be able to leave. Ruth, seventy and sassy with her spiked white hair and an elaborate quilted
cardigan that looked more like a work of art than something to
wear, accepted my enthusiastic welcome with good grace, though
the look she gave me wasn't exactly sympathetic.
     
    The morning had evaporated. What had started as a quick
break had turned into three traumatic hours. At home Meghan
greeted me with a frustrated, "Where have you been?"
    She'd had to begin the process of making wine jelly without
me, and obviously wasn't very happy about it. Two dozen squat
jelly jars sat waiting on a towel on the counter, still steaming from
the sterilization process. On the stove, the huge black canning kettle roiled with boiling water. Meghan slowly stirred the beautiful
deep red liquid in the double boiler, melting sugar into the hot
cabernet sauvignon before adding the pectin that would cause it to
gel.
    "I'm sorry. I have a good excuse, though." I poured a cup of
coffee and took over stirring, filling her in on the excitement at
Heaven House.
    "Oh, my God. Is he going to be okay?" she asked when I'd finished.
    She'd added the pectin to the mixture while I'd been talking,
and now I skimmed a little foam off the top while she fitted the
pouring funnel into the first jar.
    Grimacing as I ladled out the hot wine jelly, I said, "I don't
know. That paramedic didn't look very happy."
    "I'm calling the hospital." Meghan left to get the phone, wiping
her hands on a well-stained floursack dishtowel.
    I continued ladling until all the jars were filled and began fitting the lids on and affixing them with the screw-on metal bands. I
heard Meghan murmuring in the other room. I had just placed the
first set of jars in the boiling water canner, replaced the lid and set
the timer when she came back in.
    "Philip's in the ICU."
     
    "Do they know what's wrong with him?" I asked.
    Meghan bit her lip. "This isn't official information, by the way.
They don't just give that out. But I called someone I know over
there. Apparently it could be a ton of things, maybe even a stroke,
but they're thinking it was probably something he ate."
    I leaned against the counter and