“It’s Greg, from church. Are you sure you’re all right? You weren’t making sense when you answered the phone.”

I groaned. “I’m sorry, Greg. I’m sick, and I was asleep and dreaming. I woke up with the phone in my hand.” I giggled. “I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?”

He laughed. “Don’t think so. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, especially since you’re sick, but I wanted to know if you’d talked to Jack recently.”

Two times in one day? Did I dream that first call, or had I really talked to Kate? Why on earth was everyone asking me about Jack? And why was I still in my school clothes? I stood shakily and began to clumsily change into sweats and a T-shirt as I tried to form coherent sentences.

“Um … no, I haven’t.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

I sighed. “Well, it’s just weird, that’s all.” I told him about Kate’s call, forgetting it was supposed to be confidential. “Have you talked to him?”

“Well, actually, yes.”

My stomach did a little flip I hadn’t felt in a while. “When? What happened?”

“Well,” he hesitated, “pastor-congregant discussions are sort of the same as doctor-patient relationships, you know? Don’t think I should really go into details.”

“Oh. Okay.” My mind was running a mile a minute, but unfortunately the flu kept getting in the way of any of it making sense. I struggled to pull my sweatpants on as we talked. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Okay.” I was too tired to care what was going on anymore, especially if Greg wasn’t concerned; I wanted to hang up and go back to sleep.

“Listen, Grace, if you happen to talk to him, tell him to call me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Now get some sleep, and get better.”

“Yes sir.” I hung up and dropped the cordless phone to the floor atop the pile of my school clothes. I was just pulling the comforter over my head when the doorbell rang. I groaned. I was on the verge of weeping; I just wanted to sleep. I stumbled down the hall, every muscle aching and my teeth chattering. Was it my head pounding or someone at the door? I braced myself against the wall as the room swam and, unconcerned with who might be on the outside, pulled open the door and hung on the knob while my eyes struggled to get the face into focus. It finally stopped moving, and there was Jack.

He was smiling until he got a good look at me. “Grace, what’s the matter?”

“There you are,” I said, relieved that he could start taking his own messages so I could sleep. The blinding pain in my head got louder. “Call everyone,” I slurred before stumbling to the couch and passing out.

JACK