“Oh. Okay, then. I appreciate you letting me know.”
Sarah nodded, faked a smile, and hurried inside, closing the door, and rushing down the hall in case her neighbor felt like being neighborly and wanted to talk with her.
Once inside the sound-proofed room she closed the door, her movements stilling at the sight of the box holding a cot. Oh, why had they thought to buy it? Her eyes filled. She knew exactly why. It was a faith statement, something that said, ‘one day, in God’s good timing’.
Her knees buckled. Which was when? “When, Lord?”
She sank onto the soft rug, heart sorrowing as she gave into tears.
Was the doctor right in suggesting she and Dan were incompatible? Was a child of theirs destined to have health challenges? How did others deal with this? Where was God in the midst of this? Oh, shewishedDan was here, but was also perversely glad Dan could not see her now. He didn’t need to see her being weak. Not again. She’d been so emotionally weak these past six days he hadn’t wanted to leave her today. But she’d insisted.
Her cheek brushed the soft lamb’s wool, and she closed her eyes. Oh, she was tired, so tired. She really needed to sleep.
Her phone reminder woke her.She cracked open a gummy eyelid, her face sticky with tears and snot, her back aching. Where—? Oh. She pushed herself upright, glanced around. Why was she on the floor in here? Had she fainted? She’d fainted before with one of her pregnancies. Maybe that was why the doctor was so concerned.
Her eyes filled, as the memory of her miscarriage surged, then fears screamed again:Incompatible. Birth defects. Health issues.Her heart buckled. “Lord, where are You? I need You.” Her faith felt so feeble right now.
More tears threatened, but she blinked them away. No. She wouldn’t give in. God gave her strength, she could do this. She rubbed her eyes, no doubt smearing more of her makeup. Her makeup mask was the armor she’d needed for her brief scurry out into the world earlier.
She switched off the phone alarm, set to alert that her podcast had dropped. She opened the app, saw she had comments to reply to. Comments she didn’t want to reply to. How could she have been so blithe about trusting God last week? It was so much harder now.
Echoes of the prayers she’d prayed recently whispered to her, but thanking God for His love felt so false. Maybe God had buoyed her in those initial moments, but her spirit felt gouged out right now.
The doorbell rang. She froze. They weren’t expecting visitors. How she hoped it wasn’t Jackie again!
After tiptoeing to the front door, she peered through the peephole, then waited for Davis, the apartment’s concierge, to leave. When she judged the elevator door had closed, she opened her door and snatched up the parcel. The Express Post label and Australian markings must have made him think it was urgent. Most parcels were left downstairs for collection.
She closed the door and moved to the living area, using her fingernail to pierce the bag. It had to be from her family. It felt too soft and squishy to be from Heartsong.
A few seconds later she was reading a card from Bek, pressing her lips together to hold back a sob. Her sister had meant well. The ‘Congratulations! We are so thrilled for you! We love you!’ showed that. After hearing their news Bek must have rushed straight to the post office in order for it to arrive so quickly.
Sarah eyed the paper-wrapped gift. Did she dare open it? Heart quivering, she slid aside the tape and was soon staring at a toy koala, the stitched smile unable to raise one from her. Oh. Her eyes filled, as she caressed the oversized gray ears that the little one this was intended for would never touch. Her baby. Her lost baby. Dan’s lost baby. Their broken baby, their broken dreams, dreams that—according to the doctor—might never come to life. Bek couldn’t have known how much something intended to bless would hurt.
She drew in a desperate breath, but new sobs clamped her chest. She couldn’t do this. So she abandoned the stuffed toy on the dining table and stumbled to the bathroom.
* * *
They might’ve won,but the locker room held a heaviness similar to a loss. That’s what happened when they won games while they were out of playoff contention. He’d heard the murmurs, heard the disgruntled fans, knew people weren’t happy with him, but still the truth refused to spill. He was counting down the hours he had to interact with people before their season was officially done and they could escape to start their summer. Part of him wished he hadn’t returned. He couldn’t escape the feeling that people blamed him for not showing up last week, for letting them down.
He still hadn’t told anyone. Management had only said, “Family emergency” to his teammates, while he still hadn’t responded to messages from Brendan Jordansen and Marc Valesky, those he considered closest to him on the team.
Marc sidled up to him. Stripped of his goaltender gear he looked half his size. “Good to have you back. Everything okay?”
Dan nodded.
“Is Sarah alright?”
His throat clamped. She was doing better than him, a powerhouse of strength. Maybe that was because she didn’t care as much about the loss of the baby.
“Dizzy?”
Dan refocused at his nickname. “She’s been sick.” He coughed as if to reiterate it.
Sure enough, Marc backed away. “Are you sure you should be back?”
He shrugged, tempted to shake his head. Then figured that was hardly the way to alleviate concern. “Apparently you guys need me,” he tried to joke.
“Yeah, we needed you last week, man,” Matt Reynolds called, obviously eavesdropping.
