Page 116 of Pervade Montego Bay
“Say it, James.”
“Say what?”
“Tell me what’s haunted you all these years.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“If not now, when?”
He shook his head as though fearing to go there.
“It’s me,” I said, my voice low.
“I prayed for Victoria to die.” James raised his hands in frustration. “And God answered my prayer. What kind of husband does that?”
“James, I examined the records. Nothing could be done.”
He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I wasn’t strong enough for her.”
“I disagree.”
“I should have prayed for her to live.”
“You prayed for her to be free of pain.”
“I let her go. I gave up and didn’t fight for her.”
“The doctors asked for your permission to remove the ventilator, James. I imagine you prayed for God to make the decision for you. That’s what anyone would have done under the circumstances.”
His anguished gaze rose to meet mine.
“You did nothing wrong,” I told him.
“You should be asking yourself if I’ve ever done anything right.”
“You have a wound so deep no one can reach it, James. Not even you. Help me to help you heal that fissure in your broken heart.”
Chewing his lip, he held back on showing emotion, his Adam’s apple rolling as he struggled to swallow his surging grief.
“Forgive yourself,” I said. “That’s the only way you’ll heal and move on.”
He stared off toward the rocks as though seeking answers that were just out of reach. “Why here?”
This place ran through his blood—though I didn’t think he was ready to hear that sentimentality.
He splashed over and climbed onto the bank. I leaned down and offered him my hand, pulling him up.
James pointed to the rucksack. “That better be fresh clothes in there.”
I knelt and opened the bag, pulling out a towel, jeans, a T-shirt, and shoes for him.
“Was this meant to be some kind of baptism?” he snapped.
“A purification.”
“I can’t believe you’d have the audacity to do this to me.”
“I would do anything to reach you.”
