The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

and I were the ones that found you on the road. I brought you to the ER”

“Oh.” Jonas nodded.

“Oh?” Haley questioned. “Just oh.”

“Haley,” Pastor Rick said with some reprimand.

“No, Dad, he should be saying, ‘Oh, thank you’. Because it could have been someone else barreling around Broke Man’s Curve. Someone that wouldn’t have seen him.”

“Thanks,” Jonas said.

“Sure. Sure thing,” Joe replied. “The staff has been telling us you haven’t been in a good mood.”

“Um, no,” Jonas snapped. “I’m in a hospital, my body hurts, my head is splitting, and I haven’t a clue who I am or what is going on.”

“Then even better I brought the pastor,” Joe said. “Thought you’d want him to pray with you being it is Sunday, and you didn’t go to church.”

“Why … why would you think that?” Jonas asked.

“Because when I found you, you were praying in the middle of the road.”

“I highly doubt that. I don’t feel like I pray. I would think I would know if that was my thing,” Jonas replied.

“It is your thing,” Haley chimed in. “According to your social media, you go to church every Sunday.” She looked up from her tablet. “You’ve lost a lot of weight since these pictures. Then again, the most recent one of you was three years ago.”

“Look,” Jonas hissed. “I didn’t ask for visitors. All day long someone has been in here. The police this morning, some lady with books …”

“That would be Louise the volunteer,” Joe said. “She goes in everyone’s room.”

“Whatever. Just … go. Thanks. I’m fine.”

Pastor Rick nodded. “We’ll go. Come on, Joe, he’s not feeling up to it.” He stepped back. “I’ll pray for you, son.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“No. No I don’t,” Pastor Rick replied. “But I will.” He glanced at his daughter. “Haley?”

“I’ll be right there, Dad.”

Jonas watched Pastor Rick and Joe leave, then looked over at Haley who leaned against the window ledge staring down to the tablet.

“What?” he asked her. “Why did you stay?”

“Oh, I thought maybe you wanted to know about your life, Harold. You have some stuff, not much, on your social media.”

“No. And why does everyone keep calling me Harold?’

“That’s your name.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Do you prefer Harry?”

“No! I’m not Harold.”

“If you don’t remember who you are, then how do you know your name’s not Harold?”

“I just do.”

“Do you remember having a thing for cute kitten posts?” She showed him the tablet.

“That’s not me. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Again, how do you know if you don’t remember?”

“Just … go. Okay. Leave. Not to be rude—”

“But you are,” Haley cut him off. “You’re rude. You can be sick, grumpy, even mad …” she lowered the tablet and walked closer to the bed. “But rudeness is inexcusable. Especially when there are good people trying to be nice to you.”

“I suppose like you.”

She laughed. “No, not like me. I’m a nice person, but I’ll tell you like it is. Some won’t. Like Old Joe. He’ll never say a mean word, and if he comes in here again, he is the last person that deserves your rudeness. He saved you on that road.”

“He shouldn’t have. He should have just let me die.”

“What?” Haley asked.

“Because is this my life now? Why do I want to live without even knowing if I actually have anything to live for? Without knowing who I am.”

“Maybe there’s a reason for it,” she said.

Jonas scoffed. “A reason for what? My not knowing? Me not remembering?”

“Yep.” She nodded. “Maybe for a spell, you’re not supposed to.” She walked around, pausing at the end of his bed before leaving. “Have a good day, Harold Whitmore.”

“I’m not …” Jonas grunted as she left. “Harold Whitmore!” After blasting that, he slammed his fist into the bed and groaned. “At least I don’t think I am.”

◆◆◆

The Chief was on the phone, rocking back and forth in his chair behind his desk. He gave a signal to Pastor Rick to ‘have a seat’, conveying through hand movement and facial expressions that he’d be with him in a moment.

The pastor took a seat across from him.

“Yes, ma’am I understand,” Russ said. “Yes, Ma’am, we appreciate it. Thank you again. Absolutely. Thank you.” He set down the phone. “Wow.”

“You were awfully polite,” the pastor said.

“I usually am.”

“That’s true.”

“What can I do for you, Pastor? Isn’t this like your big day?”

Pastor Rick smiled. “You can say that. Anyhow, you know how we came up with that plan. Help a new stranger in need? Surround him with love and light, keep him company.”

“Are you talking about Harold?”

“I am. I spoke about him in service this morning. Everyone is very impressed he survived. He’s looked at like a miracle.”

“Is Old Joe telling your congregation Harold was with Jesus?”

Pastor Rick shook his head. “Chief, you don’t even need to tell people Jesus was there. All they hear is a young man survived a non-survivable car crash all while saying a stranger was in the car with him and he disappeared. They draw their own conclusions.”

“Has Harold drawn that conclusion?”

Pastor Rick chuckled. “In my brief meeting with him, I find it hard to believe he believes in anything.”

“Is he still testy?”

“That’s an understatement. I want to bring in the big guns to settle him …”

“Big guns, meaning Marge?” Russ asked.

“Yep, but she left for the sweet corn junket. She would smooth him over.”

“You would think someone who walked away pretty much from an accident unscathed, one that should have killed them would instantly have a different outlook.”

“You would think,” Pastor Rick said. “But it might take more or longer. Who are we to say the accident didn’t make him angry?”

“We are not to say,” Russ replied. “But his grandmother is. I just spoke to her.” He nodded at the phone. “I finally got through. She said our Harold is not a very nice person. However, she is coming to claim him. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow, that is the soonest she can leave Paris.”

“So, the amnesia isn’t helping his persona?” the Pastor asked.

“Doesn’t look