Read I Shall Not Want for Free Online Page B

authority?” Elizabeth was big on clerical authority.
    “People can call me what they want. At least it’s grammatical, which is more than you can say about
Reverend
.”
    “How about
Mother
?” Lois suggested.
    “Only if followed by
Superior
.” Clare shook her head. “The only gender-neutral title that’s both proper and traditionally Anglican is
bishop
, so that’s what I’m going to shoot for. How do you think I’d look in a purple shirt, Elizabeth?”
    A shout down the hall saved the older woman from coming up with a tactful lie.
    “Clare! Reverend Clare!” Laurie Mairs appeared in the doorway. “It’s Mr. Hadley! Come quick!”
    Clare pelted down the hall, the flower guild member close behind her. The door to the sanctuary had been left open, and as she burst through into the church, she could see Mr. Hadley collapsed near the center aisle, his face half in a puddle of vomit.
    “Oh, my God,” Clare said.
    Delia Hall, the other volunteer, was dancing back and forth, unable either to go to the fallen man’s aid or to back away. “Oh, Clare, thank heavens! He sat down on the pew, like he was tired, and then he simply toppled over! Do you think he’s—could it be—” She tipped an invisible bottle to her mouth. The Sexton’s Closet was rumored to have its own stock.
    “No.” Clare knelt by the sexton. His face was pale, damp with sweat where it wasn’t smeared with vomit. She touched his cheek. “Mr. Hadley?” He was clammy beneath her hand.
    He pawed at his chest. “Heavy.” His gravelly voice was so low she could barely hear him. “Can’t…” He worked like a baby with croup, struggling for each breath.
    “Clare?” Elizabeth’s voice was calm. Clare hadn’t seen her come in. “What can I do?”
    “Call nine-one-one. I think he’s having a heart attack.” She glanced up at the flower guild ladies. “Delia, get a wet soapy towel. Laurie, something to dry him with. We can at least clean him up.”
    The fifteen minutes before the Millers Kill Emergency Squad arrived was one of the longest in Clare’s life. She thought every heave of Mr. Hadley’s chest was going to be his last. The whoop and clatter of the ambulance was like the sound of an angelic host, and she could have kissed the paramedics when they hurried through St. Alban’s great double doors.
    “Heya, Reverend Clare, whatcha got?” Duane Adams, who cobbled together a living as a part-time cop, part-time firefighter, and part-time EMT, didn’t spare her a glance in greeting her. He and his partner knelt by Mr. Hadley.
    Clare backed out of their way, bumping into Elizabeth, who had returned to keep watch with her. “His name’s Glenn Hadley. He’s—um, seventy-four.”
    Duane’s partner was strapping an oxygen mask over Mr. Hadley’s face, sliding a blood pressure cuff on his arm.
    “Any history you know of?” Duane asked.
    “He smokes. He’s got diabetes, but he doesn’t take insulin shots for it.” She rubbed her arm. “I didn’t know what to do for him, other than try to make him comfortable.”
    “You called us,” Duane said. “That’s what you do.” His partner unslung a radio and was rattling off a string of jargon and numbers. The only thing Clare recognized was “MI.”
    “They’re calling it in at Glens Falls,” the EMT said.
    “Okay.” Duane stood. “Let’s get him on the stretcher.”
    “Glens Falls Hospital? Why not Washington County?” As soon as she said it, she knew. It was serious. Too serious for their small local hospital to handle. The bad stuff always went to Glens Falls.
    “They’ll want him straight to the cardiac cath lab. Any next of kin?” Duane asked.
    “Oh, my Lord, his grandkids.” Clare looked at Elizabeth. “I don’t even know how to reach Hadley.”
    “You go get the children,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital.”
    “Good.” Clare didn’t wait to see the paramedics remove Mr. Hadley. She dashed back to her office and