to offend her. What could be more right than reading the Bible? Though I didn’ t know nearly as much as she did about it, I think she appreciated the gesture, and occasionally when we read, she’ d put her hand on my knee and simply listen as my voice filled the room.
Other times I’ d be sitting beside her on the couch, looking at the Bible and watching Jamie out of the corner of my eye at the same time, and we’ d come across a passage or a psalm, maybe even a proverb, and I’ d ask her what she thought about it. She always had an answer, and I’ d nod, thinking about it. Sometimes she asked me what I thought, and I did my best, too, though there were moments when I was bluffing and I was sure that she could tell.“ Is that what it really means to you?” she’ d ask, and I’ d rub my chin and think about it before trying again. Sometimes, though, it was her fault when I couldn’ t concentrate, what with that hand on my knee and all.
One Friday night I brought her over for dinner at my house. My mom joined us for the main course, then left the table and sat in the den so that we could be alone.
It was nice there, sitting with Jamie, and I knew she felt the same way. She hadn’ t been leaving her house much, and this was a good change for her.
Since she’ d told me about her illness, Jamie had stopped wearing her hair in a bun, and it was still as stunning as it had been the first time I’ d seen her wear it down. She was looking at the china cabinet— my mom had one of those cabinets with the lights inside— when I reached across the table and took her hand.
“ Thank you for coming over tonight,” I said. She turned her attention back to me.“ Thanks for inviting me.” I paused.“ How’ s your father holding up?” Jamie sighed.“ Not too well. I worry about him a lot.”“ He loves you dearly, you know.”“ I know.”
“ So do I,” I said, and when I did, she looked away. Hearing me say this seemed to frighten her again.
“ Will you keep coming over to my house?” she asked.“ Even later, you know, when …?”
I squeezed her hand, not hard, but enough to let her know that I meant what I said.“ As long as you want me to come, I’ ll be there.”“ We don’ t have to read the Bible anymore, if you don’ t want to.”“ Yes,” I said softly,“ I think we do.” She smiled.“ You’ re a good friend, Landon. I don’ t know what I’ d do without you.”
She squeezed my hand, returning the favor. Sitting across from me, she looked radiant.