Chapter 384: Raymond, Have You Come to Pick Me Up?
Margaret donated some money to the priest, who told her she could silently share her heart's desires with God.
"God is merciful and has the most compassion for the poor souls under the heavens," he said.
Margaret knelt on the ground, praying for God to bless Raymond and help him wake up safely.
The blood on her forehead had dried in the wind, mixing with the tears on her cheeks.
After burning incense, Margaret received a prayer card. The priest personally wrote a blessing on the small card.
In the past, she would have thought it was all superstition, but now she was willing to believe it was real.
It was her spiritual solace.
The prayer card was small, but it felt heavy and significant in her palm.
Margaret took the prayer card and walked to a large ancient tree in the church's backyard.
The tree had lost all its leaves and was covered in a thick layer of snow.
Some prayer cards were sparsely hanging on the branches.
Margaret looked at them; some were for love, some for job success, some for wealth, and others for family safety.
She carefully hung her prayer card on a branch, making sure it was secure and wouldn't be blown away by the wind before she looked away.
She returned to the front yard.
The priest was still shoveling snow.
"Father, do you think God can see my sincerity?" she asked.
The priest slowly turned around. His eyebrows were white, his beard long, and he was tall and thin. He squinted at Margaret.
Margaret was wearing a thin hospital gown. Although the blood on her forehead had dried, her face was pale, clearly showing she hadn't recovered yet.
The priest stroked his beard. "If you believe, then He is there; if you don't, then He is not."
Margaret gave a bitter smile. At this point, she had no choice but to believe. She hoped it was true.
"Father, I want to copy the Bible. To pray for God's protection."
"Please follow me, ma'am."
He led her to a quiet meditation room with simple furnishings.
Hearing her intention, the priest brought her a Bible and placed it in front of her.
Margaret thanked him, then bit her finger, wincing at the pain.
Copying the Bible with blood was undoubtedly the most devout way.
"Ma'am, your body hasn't recovered yet. Even if you do this, it doesn't guarantee your loved one will wake up. Life is full of twists and turns, and not everything goes as we wish. If this method worked, my little church would have been overwhelmed with visitors long ago," the priest reminded her, squinting.
Margaret endured the pain, watching the blood drip from her finger. "I know. But I want to do everything I can and leave the rest to fate. If God blesses us, it's a blessing. If not, it's my fate. If I don't give my all, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
The priest asked, "Can you tell me your birth date?"
Margaret shook her head. "I have amnesia. I can't remember much from before."
The priest studied her for a long time before speaking. "Ma'am, even if your loved one wakes up, the outcome may not be what you hope for. Everyone is caught in the grand scheme of fate, and we can't force things."
"If I don't try, how will I know if it's impossible?"
"If you do all this and he still doesn't wake up, what will you do then?"
Margaret's eyelid twitched, and she felt a wave of panic. She gripped the brush tightly and looked at the priest. "Then I'll die with him. We'll be a couple in the afterlife. If our bond in this life is shallow, I'll seek it in the next."
"Very well, you may copy the Bible. I won't disturb you." The priest sighed and, as he turned to leave, said, "Without love, there might be less pain."
Margaret was stunned by his words.
But it's easier said than done.
She knew the priest was advising her to let go of worldly attachments, but she couldn't and wouldn't let go.
Raymond wasn't just anyone; he was her life. She had been an orphan since her parents died when she was young. Raymond had been with her, and their bond was stronger than gold.
He had sacrificed so much for her. She couldn't remain indifferent to his life and death.
She was a fool, a common person.
As long as Raymond could live, she was willing to die for him.
Her life was worthless, but Raymond's was invaluable.
By the time she finished copying the Bible, it was almost dark. She had written very slowly, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat, which sparkled like tiny diamonds.
After thanking the priest, Margaret retraced her steps.
The snow, which had stopped, began to fall heavily again.
The priest advised her to wait until the snow stopped to avoid slipping.
But Margaret shook her head. "My husband is still in the hospital waiting for me. I need to be with him."
The priest didn't insist.
The path down the mountain was even more slippery and treacherous.
Margaret had a cut on her wrist. She thought her finger was too slow, and the cold wind and snow made the wound ache terribly.
The snow underfoot was uneven.
Despite wearing only a thin hospital gown, she felt unbearably hot.
Her cheeks were flushed with fever.
She felt so tired, so very tired, as if the mountain path would never end.
The snow seemed endless.
Suddenly, her vision went black, and she stumbled, about to fall into the snow-covered bushes.
A strong arm caught her, pulling her into a warm embrace.
Margaret was stunned and opened her eyes. "Raymond, did you come to get me? Are you awake?"
Only Raymond cared so much about her, her safety, her life. She couldn't think of anyone else who would come for her.
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