Precedent: Book Three: Covenant of Trust Series Read Online Free

night’s sleep she got for a very long time. At her bedside, he laid his hand on hers, then kissed her gently. “I love you,” he whispered. He was sure he saw her smile.
    She was such a remarkably strong woman, and they had struggled through so much together. He couldn’t imagine facing the loss of his son without her. He pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket so he could read the displays on her monitors, as if he knew what the numbers meant. Blood pressure he recognized, and it was good, much better than his, but he wasn’t sure what her pulse and respiration should be as she slept.
    He pulled a pillow from the closet and turned the wastebasket upside down, positioning it just in front of the vinyl couch. He folded the pillow in half and slipped it behind his head, using the wastebasket for a footstool. I need to call Christine in the morning. And the assistant director at the mission, Ron, uh, Ron . . . good grief, I just talked to him last week. Moore. Ron Moore.
    Chuck tried to replay the events of the evening in his mind, but he couldn’t recall the dinner they had enjoyed. The scene always changed quickly to that wrenching phone call from Jack. And then the surgeon . . .
    He reached back further in his memory until he could see Brad tightly bundled in the hospital blankets, sleeping in his mother’s arms. That was one of the greatest days in his life. A son. His son. Now that son was gone. That quickly. Without warning.
    Chuck pulled the pillow down and sobbed into it until merciful exhaustion won out.
     
    * * *
     
    Friday, June 13
     
    Before Bobbi opened her eyes, the antiseptic, chlorine, hospital smell hit her, and she remembered where she was. Oh, Brad. Her chest and stomach remained knotted with that nauseating pain. For an instant she hoped it had all been some sort of psychotic episode, detached from reality. She’d take that in a heartbeat—losing her sanity over losing her son.
    If she was still at the hospital, then where was Chuck? Where were her children?
    Her head throbbed when she opened her eyes slowly, making it a challenge to focus. They must have given me enough to sedate a moose. She started to call for Chuck, but she heard him take a deep breath. She should have known he was right there.
    He was always good in a crisis, able to think and take action. Perhaps that was why they fit together so well. He was action and she was instinct. She stretched a hand out, wanting to touch him.
    Laboring to turn her head, she saw him sleeping on the small sofa beside her bed. Chuck’s hair seemed grayer this morning, the lines in his forehead deeper, the ones around his eyes more prominent. She’d heard stories about people subjected to extreme shocks waking up to find their hair had turned snow white. Those stories didn’t seem so farfetched now.
    She rolled her head back to the center of the pillow and sighed. Brad was gone. It wasn’t any more real than it had been last night. He wouldn’t be there this weekend when Danny was home, or for their anniversary, or for Thanksgiving or for Christmas, or for anything ever again. And for what? Nothing in downtown St. Louis was worth Brad’s life. Nothing.
    If she squinted, she could make out the hands of the clock. Almost seven. She needed to get home to Shannon and Jack. Last night she couldn’t bear her own grief, and she left them to fend for themselves. She would never forget Shannon’s desperate hand reaching for hers, or the look on Jack’s face when they walked through the emergency room doors. How could she fail them this way?
    After Jack’s mother died, he counseled with Glen, and they discovered what an insecure little boy he was. Anytime he began to relax and feel safe in a routine, his mother uprooted him. He was so needy for attachment, for a connection to a family, when they got him. He idolized Brad. And now . . . It would take more wisdom than she had to help him recover from this.
    Bobbi heard Chuck stir. “Hey,” she