Six Ways to Sunday - 1. A death
Faith-Mercy Hospital, Silvern, Iowa. January 17, 1988 Nothing was ever keen on being polite to her despite her smiles and her aid. She’d treated Papa’s truck well, made sure it got into the shop, fought against the rust constantly threatening its frame. But it was faithful to Papa like a dog. She’d made it to the hospital, but the truck heaved for the last time and refused to turn over when she tried to leave a few hours later. She slammed her hands down on the wheel and stomped out, winter wind whipping her hair. She pulled her hair off her face and wrenched open the hood. Margaret couldn’t say what went wrong, but she knew a disaster when she saw one. Oil wasn’t supposed to leave the engine. If she had the money, she could get a new engine dropped into the truck, but it wasn’t worth it. Margaret hated the thing as much as Papa loved it. She didn’t know enough about engines and didn’t trust the auto shop workers enough to cut her a deal. She’d be overpaying for the r...