ATOP Chapter Seventy-Three

Emma didn't look up as Josh stood in the doorway, unsure of himself for the first time in his life. She was lying there with her eyes closed, so still, so pale... it wasn't natural. She didn't look like his Emma with those dark circles under her eyes, her hands lying limp and motionless on the blanket.

"Go ahead," the nurse behind him whispered encouragingly, nudging his elbow. "She's awake, just very tired."

"Does... does she know?" Josh stammered, glancing back at her. She nodded solemnly, her eyes downcast. Josh bit down hard on his lip, shoving his trembling hands into his pockets as he forced himself to take a step forward, and then another, until he was standing at Emma's bedside. She didn't stir at first, and the silence grew uncomfortably long. Josh cleared his throat, trying to get something out... anything... but words failed him.

Emma's lips moved faintly as she shifted her head to the side, turning towards him. Slowly, her eyes opened, drifting over his face almost blankly.

"She's... she's gone... isn't she..." she murmured. Josh hesitated... nodded... lowered himself slowly to his knees, withdrawing his hands from his pockets. He reached out towards her, faltered, and dropped his hand limply on the bed beside her.

"Did you... hold her?" Her voice was faint, barely there. He had to lean forward to catch her words.

"Yeah." He moved his hand over the covers, finally letting it rest on top of hers. Her fingers twitched weakly beneath his and her eyes fluttered closed. Josh drew in a deep breath, trying again to speak. "She... she... was beautiful... looked like you..."

It was a long time before Emma answered. Minutes ticked by while she lay there, her chest rising and falling slowly with each shallow breath. 

"We... didn't even... name her..."

"No..." Josh blinked hard, hot tears stinging his eyes. He couldn't let them fall... couldn't let her see him cry. "Did you... have a name in mind?"

Emma shook her head. Her eyelashes flickered, a single tear streaking its way down her face. It lay trembling on her cheek for a brief moment before sliding down and falling onto her pillow.

"Blessing," she whispered. 

Josh nodded, echoing. "Blessing."

The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away... blessed be the name of the Lord...

He bowed his head, choking back a sob. God help him... he couldn't even seem to pray just yet... he didn't know the right words. He couldn't remember ever feeling so completely lost, so utterly helpless, not even during the war. He could feel Emma's pain and, coupled with his own, it was more than he could bear. What was he supposed to do? He didn't even know how to be a father yet, let alone a grieving one with a heartbroken wife.

"I... failed..." Emma's voice broke into his thoughts and he leaned forward, squeezing her hand gently. His lips parted as he searched for an answer, but she was speaking again. "I failed..." she murmured again, her brow furrowing. "Failed as a mother... failed as a wife... I... I can't... have children..." Her voice grew softer with each word. 

"No..." Josh managed, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for help from someone, anyone... but they were alone. "You didn't fail..." He wanted to say more, something about God's will, about comfort... but it all felt so empty. 

oOo

Early the next morning, Jim and Donna came to the hospital to bring the tiny white dress that Emma had requested. It was her finest work... the most beautiful, dainty stitches, delicate roses and a graceful leaf pattern embroidered in white. 

When she was ready, dressed in the gown and with a little bow tied around her head, Josh carried his daughter in so Emma could say goodbye. She gathered the tiny body close to her heart, rocking it gently as tears slowly trickled down her face. For a long, long time she held on, murmuring words so quietly that not even Josh could hear them... but he knew what she was saying... all the things she had wanted her baby to know.

When at last Emma looked up at her husband and surrendered her baby to his arms, something seemed to go from her. It was as if the last bit of strength seemed to fade and she fell back limply against her pillow.

"I'll be with her soon," she whispered, her face white to the lips. Josh didn't answer, startled by the look in her eyes. 

The funeral was held that afternoon. It was brief and quiet, as the baby's parents had requested. Only family members, aside from the minister, were there. Emma was still in the hospital and monitored closely by the doctors. Josh had wanted to stay with her, but she insisted that he go to bury their daughter.

"Read Psalm 23," she had whispered. "And sing Safe in the Arms of Jesus. Don't give her roses... give her wildflowers. Colorful. A rainbow of flowers... sweet, little flowers. Give her the springtime." 

He had done his best, heaping wildflowers over the casket and later on the little grave in the cemetery behind the church. He had tucked a few pretty little pink blossoms inside, and the tiny new Emmy dog had gone with her too. 

No one really spoke after the funeral... there didn't seem to be anything to say. But Rachel hugged him with tears in her eyes and Ronnie clasped his hand in silence... and his parents stood by him for a long, long time as he stared at the little grave. Emma's words were echoing in his mind, frightening him... "I'll be with her soon..."

He brought some of the flowers to Emma that evening. She was sleeping when he arrived... or at least seemed to be. He put the vase of flowers on the table by the bed, where she could see them when she woke, and knelt down beside her, his hand covering hers. And there he stayed, all night long, while nurses and doctors came and went in a nervous flutter of activity. He still couldn't pray, although the feeling was in his heart. But others were praying, all through the night.

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