Chapter 20

Holy Wednesday, March 31, 11:17 p.m. Passion Ministry

Jimmy gagged.

“No, no, NO!” John cried. He jumped up. Peered into the mask covering his son’s face. Plenty of oral medication still to be ingested. He had to keep the mask on until it was empty. Oh, no, not again! Please, dear Lord, not again.

Tears streamed down Jimmy’s face. His fingers desperately dug at the mask. Darby barked. Leapt off the bed.

“No, Jimmy, no!”

John was near breaking. At one point in the early light, when they almost had to tie the boy down to get another blood sample, he felt like throwing him across the room. He hated it when Jimmy cried. Knowing the child would become more exhausted and distressed. And he more guilt-ridden.

He needed time and energy to think. Something or someone at dinner had triggered this latest attack. Why did Harry’s eyes haunt him? He sensed misfortune as surely as he felt the gauze around his wrists weeping.

The boy gurgled. Boing! The elastic broke. The mask flew, spurting medication. Jimmy vomited.

“JIMMY!” John screamed, right hand snapping up unconsciously. “Why can’t you keep that stupid thing on?”

Felt his arm moving to strike. Saw his boy’s terrified expression. With a stifled wail, John dropped to his knees. Hugged Jimmy without thinking. “Forgive me. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

After a while, John rose, pressed the call button, then gently cleaned his son’s face. Placed him in a chair, covered in a blanket. “It’ll be all right, Jimbo,” he said softly. Handed Jimmy a chocolate pudding cup. “Uncle Andrew’ll be here in a minute, make sure you’re okay.”

The boy curled in a ball, his tiny face crunched and wet. John’s heart lurched.

“Father?”

“Yes, Jimbo?” he replied, rocking Jimmy gently.

“Something bad’s happening to me.”

“No, Jimbo. Just asthma, that’s all. We’ll get it right, you’ll see.”

“No,” said Jimmy. “It can’t be made right.”