Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Before Timothy had even finished speaking with the family doctor for the Lawsons, his phone buzzed again—this time it was Naylor Lawson, sounding frantic.

"Timothy, you need to get to the hospital, quick! Your grandfather just collapsed!"

Timothy's response was curt. "If he's collapsed, call the doctor. What do you want me to do? I'm not a doctor-I can't treat him."

Without waiting for an answer, he hung up.

On the other end, Naylor glared at the phone in frustration. "That ungrateful brat! Even when his grandfather falls ill, he won't come home!"

Realizing his ruse wasn't working, Phelps opened his eyes and snapped, "You two, think of something! I want Timothy back here now!"

Naylor blinked, confused. "Dad, you're not even unconscious?"

Phelps shot him a glare. "What, disappointed I'm still breathing?"

Naylor said, "No wonder Timothy won't

disgruntled. Having a clever, hard-headed grandson- he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a

idea struck Phelps. "Naylor, listen-go to the cemetery

went pale. "Dad, are you out of your mind? You want me to vandalize Hannah's grave? What if her spirit comes after

blessings of the departed mattered; you didn't mess around with the dead. Some things, it

pressed, "Tell me, are you more afraid of Hannah's ghost coming for

trouble with the

it."

you to touch Hannah's grave?

his head. If even his father's stunt didn't work, there was no way

Phelps said, his tone brooking no argument. "Short of something happening to his mother, you tell me what else could possibly get Timothy back here right now? If you can't think of anything better, then

ask anyone else to don such thing. Resigned, he gathered a few offerings and went to the cemetery himself. Setting them by Hannah's headstone, he fit a candle and whispered a prayer, explaining to Hannah Howard that his son was in trouble, that he hoped she'd understand he meant no disrespect, and begged her not to blame him-he

expecting the family doctor