At five thirty that afternoon, George and Helen were at Thomas' and Mary Kay's house for drinks.
The telephone rang.
"Hello--yes, they are here now. Just a minute."
Mary Kay turned to George, and gave him the receiver.
As George conversed with Taylor Baker, everyone in the room was concerned.
"It doesn't look good," Taylor said. "The gunshot wound is spreading into infection in Mr. Abraham. Josiphene--well, Josiphene just sits in her bed and stares into space. Her visitors, few as they are, tell me she won't say anything--just sits there, staring into space. And, to top things off, this mess about a Mrs. Abraham hasn't helped things any!"
"Damn!" George sighed. "I'd like to know more about this so called Mrs. Abraham--is she for real? I've heard so many second hand, passed down stories!"
"Well," Taylor continued, "there's one thing you can be certain of--she's for real! Seems her name is Gloria--she was a Smith, from somewhere out in Cole County!"
"Smith--Smith," George mumbled, "I don't think I recall any Gloria Smith."
"The story is that they were married about ten years ago," Taylor said, "when Nicholas was living in New Orleans. The marriage--the togetherness, that is--lasted about two months. Then, they separated. She stayed in New Orleans, and Nicholas returned to Cole."
"Did Josiphene know anything about it?"
"That," Taylor replied, "no one knows. It's doubtful that Abraham told her, though."
"Do you know where Gloria Abraham is now?"
"At the hospital--by her husband's bedside."
"The entire situation is a mess!" George said, after he hung up. "A damn mess!"
Before George could sit down, the telephone rang again.
"George," said Taylor Baker, "I'm going to make this short as possible. Nicholas Abraham just passed away."
"Thank you, Taylor," a shocked and humiliated George replied. "How is Josiphene?"
"We haven't told her, George," Taylor replied. "Listen--if it's okay with you--I mean, if it won't inconvenience you or anything, I'd like to meet with you. Let me see--tomorrow is Wednesday. I figure the funeral will be Thursday or Friday. Could we possible meet at my office Saturday morning? I'm afraid Josiphene is going to have to go to a special clinic for a few weeks. It will have to be something better than we can offer at the Cole Hospital."
"Certainly," George, holding back years, replied, "anything for my sister!"
"With treatement and proper care," Taylor said, "the ole girl should be back on her feet in no time at all!"
The remainder of the week in Cole was full of tension, and an atmosphere of gloom hung over the streets of town, as if to remind the surviving citizens of not only better times in the past, but, somehow, of better times to come.
Times had, in fact, been getting increasingly difficult in Cole. The little place seemed so remote, and was not keeping pace with modern technology. Young folks were going off to college and not returning after they graduated, preferring, instead, the faster pace of the big cities, elsewhere. It was hard to attract a reputable industry to the area, and a strange influx of illegal drugs was threatening the fabric, moral and otherwise, of people of all ages. Keen observers were beginning to see the handwriting on the wall, and fearing for the future. And, though race relations were better than in past years, there was still a great deal of room for improvement in that area, also.
Nichcolas' funeral was held that Thursday afternoon, at three o'clock. Since he had not been active in any particular church, the chapel of the funeral home was the setting. Everyone from janitor to top executive attended, some, curiosity seekers. Word got around.
Friday evening, Ellis and Linda Kazan had George and Helen for dinner at the Kazan home, and the occasion was a refreshing relief to George who, for the past week, had been under pressure, worrying about the condition of Josiphene, and the upcoming meeting with Taylor Baker.
Saturday morning, the meeting went smoothly. It took some cool persuasion of Taylor's part, but he finally convinced George that Josiphene would have to be sent to a clinic in Arizona for several weeks of treatement of nerves and stomach disorders. Again, Taylor assured George that if Josiphene was treated properly, she would be "good as new" soon.
Throughout all the mess of that past week, there was one man who had been all but forgotten: Eli Michael. Though it was yet to happen, most people agreed that he would probably be arrested and charged with manslaughter, sooner or later. There was no word on whether anyone would try to keep the grocery store open, but different family members, cousins and all, were slowly but surely emptying its contents before they spoiled.
As for Eli, mainly because of what his wife had done before she left the house to go on that last date with Eli, he would always passionately love Josiphene. He hoped that, some day, something between them could be worked out. Unfortunately, though, he also doubted it.
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