Sacred Vow – Chapter 14

“Is there anything I can get you, Ian?”

Ian’s reply of “woodland soup” was almost unintelligible, but Djalma laughed and patted his arm. He was back in just a minute. Ian suspected the soup was already on the stove, as he heard no sound from the microwave.

Ian sat up and fed himself a little. The effort of doing so hurt immensely, and he quickly lost the ability to use his arm. He didn’t mention this, but Djalma must have realized what was going on and began to help Ian with the soup.

Needing the assistance of a young man to feed him was humbling. It was not quite so humbling, however, as the affliction that had brought Ian to need the assistance.

For the next few days, Djalma made sure Ian had food and water. He did the laundry, kept him company, and helped him hobble back and forth to the bathroom. Ian was grateful for the company and the help.

Knowing that Djalma had to help him out of a mess only because he had ignored his advice shamed Ian considerably. Whenever he tried to apologize, though, Djalma cut him off and asked to be repaid with a promise of full recovery.

Until Ian was able to maintain consciousness long enough to carry on conversation, Djalma entertained them with reading poetry and philosophy aloud. Some of the books, he had brought. While waking to some of Djalma’s readings, Ian was reminded of items from his own shelves that had not been read in some time.

Several days later, Ian finally became cognizant enough to realize he had been out of work without explanation. When he tried to get up for the phone, Djalma explained that he had already told Ian’s manager that Ian had a severe virus and might need a couple of weeks to recuperate.

For some reason, Ian found that bit of magic a little harder to believe than most. Work was something he had never spoken to Djalma about. It was hard to accept that Djalma’s little inexplicable feats could have made their way into the stiflingly rational world of software. The doubt must have been apparent in Ian’s face. Djalma smiled and nodded.

“No big deal. You are very organized. The personal phone book under the phone has your manager’s name and numbers.”

Even so, Ian knew his manager’s name wasn’t listed under “I” or “M,” for “Ian’s Manager.” Who cares? he thought. By the time he considered the possible ways Djalma could have found the information, his interest in the subject was exhausted.