Page 29 of Judas (Sinful Salvation #1)

Chapter twenty-eight

S he stood just inside the door staring at him.

The stillness of the room compounded her frustration while she quietly seethed. Monitors were beeping. The hum of the central air system was a low counterpoint. The placidity of a room with no movement. Eliza wondered what to do next. Her exhaustion didn’t allow her to be furious at Judas’ ridiculous accusations for long because she wanted to know if any morsel of it were true. She opened her fist to find the tiny note still gripped tightly. She recognized the handwriting as her father's.

A tiny nurse breezed in silently as Eliza stared at her father. She watched the young woman check the intravenous lines, inspect all the air tubing for any kinks, and straighten his sheets. Eliza admired those who cared for others like this nurse. She couldn't imagine the things this woman had seen and didn't want to, but Eliza appreciated her for who she was. A realization washed over her in that stark, quiet moment: she and this stranger were very much the same.

Eliza herself, as a young teen, fluffed the sheets on many occasions while her father lay passed out on his bed after enjoying one too many drinks after golf. She often made sure his airway was clear and that he wouldn't choke himself in the night. It was a scenario that often played in her head, especially after her first CPR training class. She had just been hired for the summer as a lifeguard at the country club. The photos in the book were nothing compared to the nightmares she imagined in her own mind. She didn’t want to find her father like that. Ever.

The next morning she cooked him breakfast and filled his favorite cup with hot coffee so he could fend off the hangover. Even after she moved away to college, Eliza called to check in on him no less than three times a week. She remembered praying every night that her father didn't miss her and wasn't as lonely as she imagined. And even now, she was holding his hand through every step of his campaign. Even though most days he didn't deserve it and, secretly, she hoped he didn't win. Mostly because he didn't deserve that either.

But as much as she was his caretaker, she was realizing she really didn't know her father. She never questioned his lack of sobriety even though his drinking laughed in the face of his good, man-of-God-son-of-Texas facade. Not one time did she ask on those calls home, who the female voice was in the background. And she would never, ever dare inquire about his business or clients. Her eyes turned hard as she stared more closely at Paul.

She heard Judas' voice in her ear "Ahavah… listen to me. Something doesn't fit…"

The lonesome hole in her heart grew bigger but she forced herself to turn off those feelings for the moment. He was accusing Chet, Uncle Chet , of something so horrible, something so distasteful and unbelievably vile as murder; or rather, attempted murder. Eliza, more than anyone, knew the dangers of accusing someone with the presumption of guilt. For the last five years of her career, she had been trying to bring justice to the wrongfully convicted. She witnessed firsthand the gates of socioeconomic and racial inequity closing on those most disadvantaged. Judas, of all people, should know what that's like.

The words she said to him. Traitor. There was nothing more hurtful that she could possibly say to him… but…

How dare he.

How dare… he.

He. He, who?

The confusion set in. Her extremities tingled with exhaustion and she knew she would need to get some rest at some point today or her body would give out. The tiny cat naps she was able to sneak in were wearing off fast.

He, who?

Dark thoughts were oozing their way through her mind as she contemplated the question. Inky, oily sediments drifted to the surface and spread like wet, dirty silk. She couldn’t fight the images of her father and his repugnant behavior. Closing her eyes, she dropped her father’s hand. In her mind, she watched Paul grope Georgia in a room full of people. She heard his words echo in her head and a mist of conspiracy lurked over all of it.

Had Uncle Chet grown tired of his behavior? If that were so, there must have been an argument. There was no way that he wouldn’t have tried to talk sense to her father. Uncle Chet was the calmest, kindest person she knew. Nothing ruffled his feathers, not even in a courtroom. He was the polar opposite of her father. If he had done this, there was no doubt it was hard earned by her father.

"Ahavah… listen to me. Something doesn't fit…" Judas’ words echoed in her ears again.

Eliza’s lids slowly opened as she rose from her seat next to her father’s bed. She knew what she had to do. Throwing her small purse over her shoulder, she marched out of the room and didn’t look back.