From 'ephron' 4 Poem by Morgan Michaels

Recalling his doctors' words, I wasn't so sure. Anyway, I managed to get his sons' number in Providence.

The next morning was busy in the office. Later, I called Ephrons' son. His machine picked up.

'Hi', it said, 'you've reached Bellam and Carrie. Sorry, we're not home right now, but if you leave a message, we'll call you back as soon as possible'.

I left a short message and a call-back number. That evening, he phoned.

'You're a friend of WHO'? he asked, wonderingly.

'Your fathers'', I replied.

'You mean my father in Reno'?

'The same', I replied, once again.

'Oh. So, how's pop? Good old pop. Any friend of pops' is a...'

Evidently, Bellam thought I was coming to Providence.

'Your father's in the hospital', I interrupted, very sick. Did you know'?

'Unh-unh. Gosh, no. What's wrong with him'?

He sounded convincingly surprised.

'It's his heart', I said, quoting his doctor. Did you know he had a bad heart'?

Such a long pause followed I thought we got disconnected. Not so'.

'Golly, no' said Bellam, finally, 'he always seemed pretty healthy'.

'Bellem', I said, sternly, 'your father needs you. Will you call him, please'?

'No problem', he said, hastily. 'Gosh, this is terrible. Why didn't he phone? I'll call him tonight'.

'Good. Goodbye'.

We hung up so quickly I nearly forgot to give him the unit number.
I felt I had done a good deed.