Chapter 22

Bud’s single room was Spartan in its clinical, antiseptic simplicity. The morning sunlight streaming in through the open window fell across the bed. Lying there, Bud seemed so small and vulnerable that David began to cry. David’s sniffs alerted Bud to the fact that he had a visitor.

“David.”

“I—” The speech David had worked out in his head about how much Bud had hurt him, used him and lied to him, died on his lips.

“Will you come in and close the door?”

David hesitated. He wasn’t sure now if he should. He felt that if he stepped into the room, all his resolve would be lost.

Turning his penetrating brown eyes at him, Bud silently pleaded with the older man. David saw overwhelming pain, sorrow and regret in those eyes. Acting as if he were on automatic, David came into the room and shut the door. Seating himself in the chair next to Bud, he observed the man who had made him run the full range of emotions from absolute joy to the darkness of total despair.