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“Liz, it’s a miracle—an answer to prayer!” said my lawyer, settling around my dining room table with his son, and Candace, the Notary Public. “The surgeon just called with the lab results—he got all the cancer—Janet’ll be okay.” His glistening blue eyes opened me to the depths of his bruised heart. I knew that he, too, would be okay.

Two days ago I had called my lawyer’s office and was referred to his home where he was tending the needs of his wife of fifty-eight years, convalescing from surgery. His garbled speech, his huge anxiety, and his inability to track the changes in my will that I was requesting gave me considerable pause. It had been several years since our last meeting.

However, with his son as back up should he be unable to function, I later made the necessary amendments to my legal documents that were ready for my signature this afternoon. But the signing was delayed. My lawyer was still on a roll, his round flushed face filled with more stories.

“You remember the old Maryville College and Mother Scott?” I nodded as his smile deepened. I had my own stories about her. “More of a matchmaker for her girls than Dean of Women—for some reason she didn’t like me dating Janet when I was in law school. Thought she could do better—lucky for me, Janet felt otherwise.” Though changed in some ways, his charcoal suit and red-stripe tie gave him a distinguished mien.

“Now Dad, remember that we’re here for Liz,” his son said as he handed me a pen.

 

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