Five

Warmth brushed Josie’s face. She cracked open her eyelids, struggling against the weight pushing her farther into the bed. In the days and weeks since the loss, the bed had called her name, urging her to spend daylight hours ensconced there. The fight seemed futile. Rays of April sunshine teased her through a crack in the curtains. If she opened the windows, the scent of hyacinths would filter into the room. Instead, she burrowed deeper under the comforter, practically pulling it over her head.

She reached out for Art, but he was gone. Long enough that his side of the bed felt cold. The aroma of coffee filtered through the door. The scent tweaked her heart. She should have gotten up before Art left for work, should have made his breakfast like she used to. She closed her eyes against the fresh well of pain. His life continued—the normal cycle of work and home.

Yet she felt trapped. Stripped of her dreams. Filled with what-ifs. What-might-have-beens. They echoed through her mind. She knew God had more for her than this, but relief from the thoughts only came as she slipped into sleep.

Minutes passed as she tried to force herself back to sleep.

“Enough.” The muffled word didn’t carry much force, but it propelled her out of bed. Slipping her robe on, she stumbled out of the bedroom, through the small living room, into the kitchen. Josie reached to tie the robe shut, then stopped as her hands brushed her stomach. Pain cramped through her, and she tried to catch her breath against it. What should be softly rounded remained all too flat. Her hands trembled as she dumped the coffee, then filled the pot with water and set it on the stove. She waited for waves of anger to overtake the pain as it had many mornings. Instead, the ache spread until she could almost feel the weight of the baby she would never hold. Lips compressed tight against the sob wanting to escape, she grabbed her Bible from the counter where it had collected dust since the frantic dash to the hospital. She fluctuated between resignation and anger-laced questions directed at the heavens.

She stroked the worn cover and sank to the couch, wondering if she dared open it. Josie almost didn’t want to know what God wanted to say to her. The words brought such comfort when Art read them, yet marched across the page like angry ants whenever she tried to read.

Maybe she didn’t want to hear anything.

Especially from a God who hadn’t held her when she needed Him most.

Her thoughts spiraled back to the pain.

He could have prevented the miscarriage.

She should feel the flutters of life deep inside her.

The feeling of betrayal wouldn’t leave. He was God. He could have stopped it. He should have stopped it. And if He had—she pressed a hand against her stomach desperate to stop the anger that filled her—things would be so different.

Her pulse raced. He’d disappeared when she needed Him. She’d lain on the couch and begged Him to be with her, but instead, she’d spun like a child who’d lost her father in the chaos of a state fair carnival. No matter how she searched for Him, she couldn’t find Him.

Breathing in shallow gasps, she knew the fear couldn’t be more real. She’d never felt so abandoned.

“Knock, knock.” The words trilled through the opening door. Josie tried to scrub the pain from her face as Doris slipped into the room. The soft scent of cinnamon filled the room just as Doris had filled a void in her life. She’d become a constant through the fog of Josie’s questions and life-stopping pain. Even when she pushed Josie to focus on Art and what she had, Doris had become a welcome part of Josie’s life. Her persistence had edged their relationship from strangers to acquaintances to friends.

Josie had ached for a friend. And then Doris appeared. Art should probably thank Doris for keeping her from completely losing her way.

“How are you doing this morning?” Doris smiled at Josie as if it was the most natural thing in the world to find her in a nightgown and robe with unbrushed hair at ten o’clock in the morning. “I brought over some of my cinnamon bread. Fresh baked this morning. Did the smell tempt you from bed? Nothing smells better to me in the morning. Well, that lilac tree outside our windows might.”

Just when Josie wondered if Doris would ever slow down and wait for a response, she stopped and smiled. “Listen to me chatter. I must like the sound of my own voice this morning.” She nodded to the book Josie held. “Glad to see you looking at that. The answers you seek rest between its covers.”

“You’re right.” It was easier to admit it than argue with the woman. It wasn’t Doris’s fault that God has gone conspicuously silent. “Maybe someday I’ll find them.” Josie slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Laugh lines crinkled the corners of Doris’s eyes. “Of course you did. And that sentiment doesn’t surprise God at all. Go ahead and tell Him exactly what you think and feel. I doubt you’ll surprise Him.”

The lady had a point. “All right.” The teakettle whistled, and Josie stood. “Would you like some?”

“Yes. I’ll get plates for our bread.” As soon as they were settled back at the table, Doris grabbed Josie’s hands and bowed her head. After a quick prayer, she looked at Josie and smiled. “As soon as we’re done here, get dressed. You and I are going out.”

Josie frowned. The last thing she wanted was to leave. Doris tipped her chin and stared her down.

“You’re not getting out of this, young lady, so you might as well give in graciously. It’s time to get your thoughts off yourself.” A smile softened the words’ edges. Doris winked at her, then took a bite. A few minutes later, the bread had disappeared along with the tea. “Scoot. I’ll clean up the kitchen while you get ready.”

Seemed she had no options. Josie stood and headed to her room. She slipped into a gingham dress and pulled her hair into a simple twist. Even those little actions made her feel better, more in control. She slapped a hat on her head and grabbed a purse. Squaring her shoulders, she rejoined Doris.

“Much better.” Doris tugged her toward the door. “You’ll be glad you came.”

“Yes, ma’am.” What else could she say? Doris had made up her mind.

They stepped onto the sidewalk, and the sun felt wonderful. It warmed Josie, and a bubble of something sweet filled her.

“Don’t analyze that too closely, dear. You’ll be surprised by hope on even your darkest days. God has a way of doing that.” Doris kept the pace brisk as they walked several blocks. Josie hurried her steps to keep up, watching for signs of spring. The scent of the season of new life, a heady mix of hyacinth and tulips, filled her senses.

“Ah. Here we are.” Doris led her into a church. Josie tried to find the name, but Doris pulled her in, much faster than she’d expected the older woman to move. The urgency in her steps pulled at Josie’s curiosity. What had her so excited? “This is one of my favorite days of the week. There’s something wonderful about God using me to serve others.” As she talked, she led Josie along a hallway and then down some stairs. The aroma of something spicy tickled Josie’s nose and collided with the smell of unwashed bodies as they walked into a large, open room. Josie struggled not to grimace at the mix of odors and what it did to her breakfast.

“What are we doing?”

“Caring for others. Today’s the day my church serves the needy through the soup kitchen. Someday, we may open every day, but until then, we share the need with other churches.” As she walked, Doris brushed the arm of a man seated at one of the tables. “How are you today, Bruce?”

“I’m still alive, ma’am.”

“That’s good, real good. Make sure you get your soup and bread.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The next hours flew as Doris put Josie to work pouring vegetable soup into bowls too numerous to count. She tried to ignore the fact that many of the women coming through were large with child. She tried to smile even as a knife cut into her heart. Gritting her teeth, she kept the tears from falling. And as she focused on those in front of her with immediate needs, a dream slowly reawakened in her heart, one she’d shoved into a hidden corner. Images of the times she’d helped her mother in settings like this. When the whole family had pulled together the extras they had to share with the less fortunate. And there had been so many during the hard days of the ’30s. While she’d thought those times had passed, today reopened her eyes to the need. Maybe she could play a part in meeting those needs, serving as Jesus instructed His followers. And maybe as she took her eyes off her hurt, she’d move beyond the grief.

❧

Art hurried home. Today, the numbers had swum in front of his eyes, not sliding into ordered columns like usual. He tried to take in the song of the birds as they flew about, looking for nest materials. Instead, his thoughts fixated on Josie. It had been weeks since they lost the baby, yet it seemed as fresh to her as yesterday. If he came home to find her still in her nightgown again, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Shouldn’t he be enough?

He shook his head. He clearly wasn’t enough for Josie. The thought pained him. They’d only been married a few months, and already she needed more. He cringed and tried to rein in his thoughts. He knew Jesus was the only One who should be her all in all, but it would have been nice to think he mattered, too.

Art’s steps slowed as he approached the grocery store. Mr. Duncan pushed a broom back and forth across the sidewalk. “Afternoon.”

“Sir.”

“How’s the missus?” Scott’s eyes softened at the edges.

“She’s. . . I don’t know. I thought she’d be back to normal.” The word didn’t quite fit, but he didn’t know how else to explain the situation. “Is she home?”

“Doris took her out on a service project, but they’ve been back for a while.” Scott leaned on his broom handle. “Can I offer a piece of advice, advice learned the hard way?”

Art nodded.

“Be gentle with her. This pain you’ve both had. . .well, it’s different for a woman. Seems more personal in ways we can’t understand.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep loving her. It’s the best thing you can do.”

Art nodded and climbed the stairs to the apartment. He almost rapped on his door, just to make sure she knew he’d arrived. “Hey, honey.”

Josie looked up from her book and smiled at him. He looked closer. Sadness still edged her eyes, but the smile seemed more real.

“Welcome home.” She tilted her head for his kiss, then patted the couch next to her. “How was your day?”

“A little off actually.” A frown creased her pretty nose. He hastened to explain. “The numbers didn’t cooperate, that’s all. I’m sure next week will be better.” He took a breath, then ventured forward. “Yours?”

The smile almost reached her eyes. “Did you send Doris after me again?”

“No. Should I have?”

“Maybe. She came and practically demanded I get dressed and follow her.”

Art sucked in a breath. That could be bad, but Josie looked alive again. “Where did she take you?”

“To church.” A soft chuckle slipped out. Art would have hugged plump Doris if she’d been in the room. A giggle from Josie! “She took me to help serve at its soup kitchen. I think I’d like to go back.”

“Next week? That sounds fine.” Especially if serving brought Josie back to him.

“No. Well, then, too. But Sunday. For services. Doris said we could walk with her.” Her eyes begged him to say yes. “We haven’t visited this one. Maybe it will be the right one for us.”

“All right. If you want to try hers, we can. Sounds like a good church if they’re meeting community needs.”

Josie took his hand. “Thank you. I think we could meet some nice people there. Maybe Cincinnati will feel more like home.” A wistful look took her away from him.

Squeezing her hand, Art cleared his throat. “Let’s take a stroll. Enjoy the day.” If they didn’t hurry, evening would fall. “Before dinner.” He pulled Josie to her feet. Her lips turned up at the corners as he tugged her to the door. He stopped, his breath disappearing in the face of her beauty. She might think she was broken, but he knew better. A strength she didn’t recognize filled her.

Josie caught his stare. Softness removed the lines around her eyes. “I love you, Art Wilson.” Before he could respond, she stood on tiptoe and stole the rest of his breath with a kiss.

He deepened the kiss, and thoughts of abandoning the walk played in his mind.