to drop the girls and their luggage at Mrs. Murphy’s on my way to the airport. My heart ached as though someone had welded the valves shut.
What if I got sick and couldn’t work? Neil’s insurance should cover the next few years, but the money wouldn’t last forever.
I should go back to church; so many of the congregation had supported us, prayed for us, sent encouraging cards and letters. I tried to recall the last Sunday Neil and I were together—couple-together. We’d gone to church, and then taken the girls to Chuck E. Cheese’s for a special treat. That night we had taken the family to the local zoo. The kids had delighted in the animals and fall decorations. Neil and I had strolled hand in hand beneath a full moon, admiring giraffes and elephants, their habitats decked in colorful lights. I never once thought that would be our last official outing together, but then, who would ever think that? Bad things didn’t happen to us.
I tossed my blanket aside and rolled to my back, staring at the ceiling. I knew by heart exactly how many tiles it took to stretch across the room and the number it took to run to the opposite wall. Two hundred and forty.
The house was old, dating back seventy-five years, but it had been the best Neil and I could afford on our budget seven years ago. I was expecting Kris, and Neil was relatively new at the fire station. With a baby on the way, we knew we’d need more room than the efficiency apartment we’d moved into after our honeymoon. We’d found the house on a lovely spring afternoon, and even though it was old and run-down, we saw all kinds of possibilities. We’d painted and wallpapered and made a small nursery downstairs adjoining our bedroom. We’d loved this home, but recently we’d talked of buying one of the ranch styles in a new, moderately priced subdivision a few miles away. Kris could stay in her school district, and Mrs. Murphy would still be close.
I rose on an elbow and peered at the clock. Twelve-thirty. I had to get some sleep. Without medication, the hours dragged, but I would not take another pill. I had to resume life. For my children’s sake, I had to make an effort to restore normalcy.
One o’clock came.
Then two o’clock. I had to be up and functioning in two hours.
Sleep refused to come. Finally I got up, padded to the kitchen and sat down at the table. A house was so empty this time of night. The furnace was turned low; the floor was cold and unwelcoming to my bare feet.
I stared out the window onto the quiet street. Neighbors were asleep, couples lying next to each other in their beds. I closed my eyes and recalled the years I had taken Neil’s presence for granted. Of the hundreds and thousands of times I’d curled next to his warm body, felt his heart beat in sync with mine, and never once thought of the woman or man who lay that same night in an empty bed, alone. Hurting. Pain so intense you wondered if your heart wouldn’t succumb to the blackness, and you prayed that it would.
I knew I had to talk to someone. Anyone.
Quietly I walked to the desk phone, not having the slightest idea whom I’d call. Not Mom—I loved her dearly, but she didn’t understand, thank God, how deep the pain cut.
If I had a sister…but I didn’t. Or a brother. Not even friends close enough to call at this hour of the morning.
My eyes focused on the prayer sheet I’d brought home Neil’s and my last Sunday together. The pastor’s home phone number stood out. Did I dare? A moment later I picked up the receiver and punched the numerical pad.
Two rings later a man answered. I don’t know if Joe Crockett recognized my voice. I don’t see how he could have, because I was sobbing by now, incoherent, but he managed to single out who I was.
“Pastor Joe…I…need you,” I managed.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, Kate.”
I got dressed, and when I let him in it was close to two-thirty. Surely the church didn’t pay him well enough to climb out of a warm bed on a cold winter’s night and come to a distraught female’s rescue.
He handed me his topcoat and hat, then quietly followed me into the kitchen. We sat across the table from each other. I didn’t know where to begin. So I just admitted the truth.
“I can’t do this alone.”
“You are not alone,” he said. “You feel alone, but God is with you, Kate.”
“God.” I shook my head, resentment welling up in my throat.
“He’s promised never to leave us, Kate, but He hasn’t promised that we’ll always feel His presence. I know you feel utterly alone and forsaken right now.”
“Why did God take Neil?” I looked up, tears running down my cheeks. “I begged Him not to take Neil—for years I’ve begged Him. Why did He do this to me?” My voice broke, tears obstructing my voice.
He shook his head and sighed. “I can’t answer that. But I’m here. I care—the church cares. God cares.”
I didn’t care.
Pastor Joe was kind and the church had been supportive, but Neil was gone, and there was nothing anyone could do or say to bring him back. I knew the next thing he’d be telling me was that God uses our bad experiences to make us stronger, and I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to be stronger. I wanted my husband back—in this house—laughing, playing with Sailor, teasing Kelli, helping Kris with her homework. Loving me.
We sat in the silent kitchen and he clasped my hand in comfort. The warmth of another living, breathing adult helped, made the dark house feel less threatening and cold.
“Tell me how I go on.” I thought of the Colorado flight in a little under three hours. Leaving my girls for the first time since we’d become a family of three. Three was an uneven number….
“It will take time, Kate. Days. Weeks—maybe years. The grieving process is different for all of us. It will be time you won’t want to give, but eventually you’ll be able to go on. You’re a strong young woman. I have utmost confidence in your ability to survive.”
I don’t know where the conversation would have taken us if the pastor hadn’t heard Sailor scratching at the back door. I’d forgotten to let him in before I went to bed.
“That’s Sailor. He wants to come in,” I said.
“I’ll take care of it.” He got up and walked to the back door, unlatched and opened it. Sailor entered the house on a rush of cold air.
“Drop it!” Pastor Joe shouted.
Startled, I sat up straighter. “Pardon?”
“Drop it!” He backed up, keeping his distance from the dog. I rose slightly and peered over the edge of the table. My jaw dropped. Sailor had the snake in his mouth. A black tail wildly gyrated back and forth.
“Sailor! Drop it!” Pastor Joe repeated sternly.
“No! Don’t drop it!” I sprang up, wondering what I’d done with the bat. This snake was like a plague!
Sailor wagged his tail and dropped it. The snake was badly injured but still alive.
“How in the world?” I breathed.
“Yow.”
