Earlier that same Saturday afternoon, Tami had been chopping an apple on the kitchen counter when the phone rang. Her father, she knew, was at Taylor's, as he usually was on Saturday afternoons. Tami's mother was making her prepare the fruit salad for dinner, which she would top with whip cream and refrigerate for the next three hours.

She wiped her hands on a towel and picked up the receiver, and she was at once excited and anxious to hear Eric's voice saying "Tami." She wanted to tell him, once again, that she was sorry about the boots, but before she could get a word in edgewise, he said, "You need to get your mother and come down to the hospital in Dillon."

"What?"

"Your dad…we were playing pool, and talking, and…he just collapsed, Tami. Just fell straight to the ground."

Tami dropped the receiver, and her heart dropped with it. It dangled against the wall, and she plucked it up again. "What? What do you mean?"

"I called an ambulance, and I rode with him. We're in the hospital in Dillon now."

"Why Dillon?"

"Rankin doesn't have…some doctor guy - I don't know. We're in Dillon. You need to come down. Right now."

"He's alive, isn't he, Eric? Please tell me he's alive."

"He's alive. They're getting ready to do some operation or something. They're going to need your mom to sign some forms, I think. You need to get on down here."

[*]

Tami drove. The whole time, her mother was crying hysterically in the passenger's seat beside her, and Shelley sat in the back seat, her hand on her mother's shoulder, trying, but failing, to calm her down.

When they entered the sliding glass doors of the ICU, Eric ran to them. He embraced Tami and then led them all to the front desk. Tami wasn't quite sure what happened from there. It had taken all of her will and concentration to drive them safely to the hospital, and now she let herself be overwhelmed. As if from the bottom of a deep hole she heard the words "heart," "emergency operation," and "fifty percent chance of survival." She also heard that they weren't allowed to see him yet.

They settled on the scratchy, cloth-covered chairs of the waiting room. Eric was explaining things to Tami's mother. It seemed to Tami that his lips were moving, but no words were coming out of his mouth. His hands were moving too. He had a clipboard on his lap, and he was filling out the forms for her mother, as Mrs. Hayes told him the information. He pointed to the places where she needed to sign.

A half hour passed before Mrs. Hayes told Eric to force someone to give them some news. He went to the desk, and came back with, "They finished prepping him. He's in surgery now. They'll tell us when it's over."

Tami didn't know how many minutes passed after that, but her mother was the next to speak. "I need a Bible," she said. "Eric, I need a Bible." He disappeared to find the hospital chapel and returned with a Bible a few minutes later. He extended it to her, but she didn't take it. "Psalm 46," Mrs. Hayes said. "I need Psalm 46."

"Yes, ma'am." Eric sat down beside her. The thin pages of the Bible rustled like wind until he located the Psalm. "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear..." As Eric read, his low voice washed over Tami like a soothing wave.

Some time later, Eric went to the desk again for news, and returned saying, "They can't tell us anything yet."

"Can't or won't?" Shelley asked.

At some point, Eric excused himself to call his parents to tell them he wouldn't be home for dinner. He returned carrying three Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate like a triangle between two hands. Tami must have taken her cup without saying anything, because her mother commanded, "Thank the nice young man, Tami," and Tami said, "Thank you, Eric."

Eric went to the desk yet again. After returning, he said, "They're sending a doctor out to talk to y'all in a few minutes."

"What does that mean?" Shelley asked anxiously.

"To talk to us?" Mrs. Hayes said. "Is that good or bad?"

"I'm sure it's good, ma'am," he said.

Tami had started crying silently. She didn't even know it until Eric sat down in the chair next to hers, took her hand in his, and said, softly, "It's a'ight. It's going to be a'ight. He's strong, your father. He's going to make it."

She squeezed his hand tightly, like it was a life line that had just been thrown to her. Eric held on for the next ten minutes, until the doctor came, and started talking. All Tami really heard was that her father had survived the surgery.

When they went into the Reverend's room, he was still asleep because of whatever they had given him. Tami's mother peppered his faces with kisses and whispered a prayer of thanks to God. Shelley and Tami hugged his sleeping body, while Eric lingered in the doorway.

"Come on in, Eric," Mrs. Hayes said. "I know you want to see him, too," and with those words, Tami was reminded of how many Saturday hours Eric had spent with her father at the bar, of how, maybe, the Reverend had become like a father to him too.

Eric slowly made his way in. He looked down at the Reverend, whose chest was rising and falling beneath the dull, green hospital blanket, and swallowed.

The doctor explained to all present that the Reverend would need some serious recovery time. He would be in the hospital for the next day or two, for monitoring, and then he would need to "take it easy" for several weeks. "He ought to consider getting an interim pastor to take over the bulk of his duties for a month or two," the doctor said. He also warned them that when he awoke, he might be groggy and confused for a few hours. "Don't worry. That will pass. He'll regain awareness."

Eric sat with the ladies as they waited by the Reverend's bedside. He accompanied them to the cafeteria for dinner, and returned with them to wait some more. When the Reverend finally stirred, there were shouts of joy.

Tami's father blinked and seemed shocked by his surroundings. His confused eyes searched the room and fell, at length, on Eric. "My God, Michael. You've grown so tall! And your hair has gotten so much darker."

Eric looked helplessly at Mrs. Hayes.

"This is Eric Taylor, Edward," she said. "One of your parishioners. It's not Michael. Michael's dead. But you're not. You're going to be fine. You're going to pull through this."

"Who's Michael?" Eric whispered to Tami.

"My dad's baby brother. He died in a car crash the year before I was born."

The Reverend continued to say some incoherent things, and something particularly unexpected fell from his mouth as he looked Tami's mother up and down: "I know you. You're that pretty girl from the revival tent. The one with the gorgeous legs and the lovely tits."

Mrs. Hayes flushed red, Tami's mouth dropped open, and Shelley snorted. Eric walked out into the hallway.

"Yes, yes," the Reverend Hayes said. "I remember you. You should write a thank you note to your mother for those boobs."

Shelley fled the room guffawing, and Tami followed her, a little flushed, but smiling.

"I am totally going to remember that line for the rest of my life!" Shelley cried through her tears of laughter. "Mom's going to be pissed at him,though. Who do you think he was talking about?"

"He was talking about her," Tami said. "They met at a revival, remember?"

Eric had his back to the white wall of the hallway. His face was as red as if someone had just slapped him, but he caught Tami's eyes and smiled. "Well," he said, "I guess the Reverend's still has some stamina left."