Brothers And Sisters

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I'm sorry.

That's what he had said. Those were his last words, at least as far as Melissa Mason was concerned. If her father had said anything else to anyone else, like to one of the doctors or nurses, Melissa didn't know about it.

I'm sorry.

He had then slipped off into a coma; and, less than three hours later, William James Davenport, pillar of his community, president of Davenport Electronic International, was dead at sixty-nine, his soul shoveling coal in the furnaces of hell.

Now, why did Melissa have to think that? It wasn't like her to think such vindictive things, was it? Her father probably was in heaven right that minute. If there was a heaven.

And, of course, there was a heaven. Melissa didn't like the way her mind was working. No, she didn't like it one damn bit. Of course her father's soul was now off somewhere in paradise playing a harp! Because if William Davenport had told his daughter he was sorry, there was little doubt but that he had told the church the same thing, given a couple hundred thousand dollars to the papal coffers, and been given forgiveness.

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