Healing Words for Hurting Hearts

Chapter One

Maggie awoke from a deep sleep to notice the stranger beside her staring at her. Blushing, she coughed and shifted in her seat.
           “Please make sure your tray table is stowed, your seat is in an upright position, and your seatbelt securely fastened. We are beginning our descent into Mumbai,” the British flight attendant announced over the intercom.
            Maggie fumbled to obey the attendant’s directive as the passenger beside her spoke.
        “You were sleeping so long, I thought I might check your pulse,” the handsome man mused. “But just as I reached for your wrist, you woke up. Hi, my name is Gavin…Gavin Munsfield.” The congenial young man reached for Maggie’s hand. His square jaw was etched with five o’clock shadow and his eyes laced with fatigue, yet he smiled with a warmth Maggie had not felt for days.
            Still groggy, Maggie rubbed her eyes, then reached to shake his hand. “Uh, yes, uh…nice to meet you. I’m Maggie Osteder.”
          “Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign goes off. Then you may move about the cabin and retrieve your baggage from the overhead compartments,” the voice interrupted. “Thank you for flying British Airways. We hope you enjoyed your flight.”
           As Maggie pulled her purse from under the seat, Gavin continued, “So is this your last stop or do you have a long layover here?  In Mumbai, I mean.”
          “Long layover,” Maggie replied, somewhat irritated by the man’s incessant chatter and intrusion into her private affairs. She was single—attractive at that—five foot three with copper-colored hair that cascaded down her back in soft waves, hazel eyes, and fair skin. A slip of a girl, yet possessing strength that belied her physique. She had been warned to beware of men who might take advantage of her. Gavin seemed harmless enough, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
          “Ah, excuse me,” Maggie insisted, stretching for the overhead bin in the jumble of exiting passengers. She felt pain shoot up her right leg and realized someone had just stepped on her foot. She hoped this was not a foreshadowing of misfortune ahead. She had already endured a four-hour layover in London, misplaced luggage, and a nosy passenger trying to wheedle his way into her business. All she wanted was to get off the plane, enjoy a hot cup of coffee, if such a thing existed in Mumbai, and arrive in Chennai in one piece.  
           Maggie had waited ten years for this day. Now, at age twenty-five, she was finally on her way to India.
          “Perhaps I’ll see you again,” the towering man quipped, disturbing Maggie’s reminiscence.”
          “Excuse me?”
          “Who knows? We may run into each other again,” Gavin persisted as he gathered his camera and backpack and headed for the exit.
            Maggie shook her head. Who IS he, anyway? Brushing her hair back and straightening her blouse, Maggie stepped off the plane and into the Mumbai terminal, an entire world apart from anything she had ever encountered.
            The balmy air of an early February morn ruffled her bangs as she walked through the door to the airport lounge. Less than impressive surroundings greeted her. Her bladder screamed to be emptied, but the missionaries had warned her not to use the facilities. One step into the bathroom explained why. Smudged walls and filthy toilets looked as if they had never been scrubbed, even though cleaning ladies slept on collapsed cardboard boxes. Maggie quickly stepped toward the door, tripping over an Indian woman on her way out. The haggard woman briefly stirred, groaning and muttering something in her sleep.
           Maggie found a seat in the lobby and settled in for the wait. She thought back over the recent flight and the man she’d met.
            She couldn’t help but think he was trying to take advantage of a young girl far away from home and all alone. She’d seen his kind before. Guys who think they’re doing you a favor by asking you out. Didn’t he realize that she’d been running from those guys for the past ten years? While all the other girls in the college dorm were planning their dream weddings, Maggie had one passion: to serve God in India. Some called her crazy; some thought she’d never do it; others thought she just didn’t like guys. The truth was, she had never met a guy who shared her love for India, so she never allowed herself the luxury of getting attached to anyone. She had worked hard to stay focused and here she was. Sure, she’d like a husband and family, but if she ever did get married, God was going to have to drop him in her lap.
           Maggie’s eyes drooped and her head nodded. It was going to be arduous sitting up in a hard back chair with tattered cushion, chunks of it ripped out, leaving gaping holes not very comfortable to sit on.
          “Announcing the departure of Flight 618 to Chennai: all passengers departing to Chennai please board through gate B3,” an Indian man announced over the intercom. Startled awake, Maggie collected her things and walked to the plane. Insecticide mingled with exotic spices bombarded her nostrils upon entering. She could almost feel the heat rising from the foods the sari-clad attendants prepared. With approximately three hours to Chennai, nestled on the East Coast by the Bay of Bengal, Maggie decided to pull out her Bible to occupy time. Flipping through the pages, she turned to the book of Ruth. Her ladies’ Bible study group had just completed a study on Ruth before she left for India. Somehow, she felt a strange kinship with this Moabite maiden on journey to Judah. Although their circumstances were drastically different, Maggie considered herself a lady in waiting just like Ruth. Waiting upon God for His best in all things—timing, direction, fulfillment—and if that included the provision of a Boaz someday, she was willing.

TO READ MORE ABOUT MAGGIE'S ADVENTURE, ORDER JOURNEY TO JUDAH AT WWW.CHRISTIANBOOK.COM.

CHAPTER ONE 

         No matter how much Maggie squirmed, her feet just wouldn’t move. Sand caved in around her by the second. She wanted desperately to run, but couldn’t. Her entire being screamed to be released from bondage. The huge wall of water was advancing, and there was nothing she could do but allow it to overtake her. She was going to die. She harbored no regrets, yet a pervasive sadness blanketed her like fog. Her breathing quickened as the ocean toppled over her.

         Maggie’s eyes popped open. She lay in a puddle of sweat with Gavin gazing down at her. Without a word, he stroked a damp curl from her forehead and cradled her in his arms. He kissed away the fright while gently rubbing her back, restoring her to calmness. She gazed into his deep brown eyes—pools of tenderness—and relaxed in his embrace. She was warm, safe and loved.

          ”A nightmare, darling?”

          She swept a hand over her face and scrunched her pillow. “Do you think I’m experiencing some post-traumatic stress?” Worry filled her eyes. “I know the tsunami is over, but—”

         “Yes, it’s over, but you’re still reliving the event in your subconscious mind.” Gavin ran his hand down her arm and squeezed her hand. “Try giving your dream a happy ending.”

           She smiled. “Oh, that’s easy. I survived, and you finally declared your love for me. We were married on a September evening on the lush hillside of my cousin’s home, and we spent our honeymoon in Maui. So I guess you could say you have given me a happy ending.”

         “More like a happy beginning, and I’m so glad to be a part of it!” Gavin yawned and stretched his arms over his head as she threw the covers back.

          Shaken, but glad to be awake, Maggie pulled on a pair of shorts and matching top. After she grabbed some chicken wraps, bananas, and mineral water from the fridge, she followed Gavin out the door to cruise the Maui coastline. Along the way, she spotted a crowd, singing with guitar and ukulele accompaniment, sitting on a grassy knoll by the ocean. Curious, she urged Gavin to pull over. He helped her out of the car and led her to a seat on the ground by a girl whose German Shepherd periodically sniffed the salty air. His massive paws dug the rich dirt, releasing an earthy smell.

          Praise choruses filled the air as ocean waves quietly lapped the shoreline. Maggie imagined Jesus calling James and John from their small fishing boat. Without hesitation, the two brothers abandoned their vessel and followed the Lord. She smiled, remembering the day she sensed God calling her to leave her comfortable home and journey to India as a missionary. So long ago, it seemed, and so many sweet surprises He had lavished on her in the process, one of which was her marriage to Gavin. She snuggled up to her husband, desire running through her as he pulled her close.

          After the final amen, Maggie squeezed Gavin’s hand as they walked back to the car to travel 30 North on route to Hana. The resort host had mentioned the journey would take them around the island in about two hours. She strained to see the passing sites as the Dodge climbed the winding precipice.

         “Sure are a lot of bikers out today,” Maggie said.

          Gavin glanced out his window. “Wow, look at that whale breaching the water.”

          She craned her neck to see. “Oh, I missed it. But look at the sailboat resting against the backdrop of those distant cliffs. Absolutely beautiful.” Maggie pointed, her arm dangling in front of Gavin’s face. “Isn’t that Maalaea Harbor over there?”

         “Maggie, sit back. You want to end our honeymoon going over a cliff?” He fumbled to activate the windshield wipers since a daily misting was replenishing the rain forest.

         “Ooh, watch out for that hairpin curve up ahead.” Maggie lunged forward, gripping the dashboard.

        Gavin careened the car closer to the center of the road, away from the sharp drop ending in the azure ocean below.

       “Whew, that was close. Hey, only 599 curves to go.” He chuckled. “Reminds me of your Tennessee hometown.”

        “Not too different from this road, apart from the vegetation,” she said. “Let’s get out and explore some, okay?”

          Gavin pulled over and they walked through the forest, holding hands and snatching a kiss or two along the way. The heady aroma of eucalyptus filled Maggie’s nostrils. A gentle wind knocked bamboo together, releasing a clattering sound like wooden chimes. Idling along the trail, she ran her hand over the smooth bark of a rainbow eucalyptus trunk while Gavin blew a kiss on her neck, inciting her to return the gesture with a generous kiss on his mouth. Breaking from his embrace, Maggie plopped on a stump. Gavin settled on a mossy patch beside her, drawing his legs up and draping his arms on his knees.

          “Just breathe in that air.” Gavin closed his eyes and raised his face to the breeze. “You won’t smell this sweet fragrance in Chennai.”

           Maggie snickered. “Nope. More like garbage burning, curry and cumin and thick dust.” She swirled a stick through the dirt.

           “Essence of dung and death.”

           “Not an aroma one would most likely pick given another choice, I’ll admit. I miss it, though.”

            Gavin poked the ground with a rock. “After everything you’ve been through, you still miss it?”

           “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so they say. I’m ready to get back,” Maggie gave her head a slight bounce. “I’m anxious to meet the new missionaries, Dan and Yvonne Pratt, and of course, I’m thrilled that Dr. Hauser and his wife, Constance, are now serving at the compound.”

           “With the new team and rebuilding efforts, be prepared for adjustments. It’s not going to be easy getting through this transition phase.”

         “I know. When has ministering in India ever been easy?”

       “Growing up as a missionary kid, I got used to seeing dire need all around me. I never had to search for a compelling reason to minister. I saw it in the sunken eyes of starving children, in the leprous limps of the aged.” Gavin waved his hand as though pointing out invisible people. “When I was a child, Dad would take me into the villages where he would walk from hut to hut sharing the gospel. I suppose that’s when I first developed a passion for sick and hurting people.”

         Maggie nudged Gavin’s shoulder. “Dr. Dedication. That’s my love! I suppose that’s what first attracted me to you—watching you converse with villagers as you swabbed infection and bandaged wounds. Seemed to be as natural as breathing for you. You don’t just treat bodies, Gavin,” Maggie’s voice trailed to a whisper, “you treat people.”

          “And I miss it, too, Mags.” Gavin gently slapped his knee. “But, hey, not so much that I’m going to sacrifice my honeymoon with the girl of my dreams spending time thinking about it.” He sprang to his feet and grabbed Maggie’s hands, drawing her to his chest and smothering her lips with another liberal kiss. An older couple ambled by. They looked every bit like Ma and Pa Kettle—more likely candidates for a farm than an island paradise. She blushed when she overheard the elderly man mutter, “Honeymooners. Always smoochin’,” at which he received a sharp stab in the ribs from his wife.

          A few days later, Maggie crept into the kitchen to pour a cup of steaming mocha latte. She heard Gavin saunter in and turned to see him rubbing his eyes.

         “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She positioned the carafe in the base of the coffee maker. Cradling the cup in her hands, she examined her husband. Unruly dark curls layered his head. Fuzzy black hair trailed down his bare chest to his boxer shorts. So adorable in the early morning. Like a little boy waking from a nap.

         He rubbed his nose and raked a hand through his disheveled hair, then padded to a barstool. Dragging a bowl of pineapple across the counter, he popped a chunk into his mouth. “It’s 5:30 a.m. What are you doing? Our flight doesn’t depart for hours.”

         “I know. I just couldn’t sleep. I want to squeeze every drop out of our last day in Maui, starting with the sunrise. Now that you’re up, want to join me?”

          “Hand me a cup of that coffee and I’ll think about it. Better yet, throw in some dark chocolate, and I’m yours. Do with me what you want.” Gavin managed a sleepy grin.

           Maggie poured another cup and placed it in front of him, then ruffled his hair. She opened the glass door to the patio. A gentle breeze stirred her bangs. The stars winked from their pockets in the inky sky. A full moon hovered above, patches of creamy clouds occasionally gliding by and hiding its face. She marveled at the stillness which was only interrupted by an occasional passing car.

            Gavin joined Maggie, and they climbed down the back stairwell and exited the complex. She touched her face, amazed that the moist air conditioned her skin like a fine facial treatment. After they turned the corner to walk down the sidewalk, Maggie surveyed the landscape. Lights flickered in houses that peppered the base of Moku’ula. Above the majestic mountain, clouds dissipated revealing wisps of pink that swirled through a brightening sky. She hugged her chest, grateful for the hope birthed by a new morn. When they approached the banyan tree in LaHaina Harbor’s historic park, she heard a chorus of birds chirping a morning concert.

           Gavin jumped in front of Maggie with hands behind his back. “Last call for a kiss in the famous banyan.”

           Startled, she pushed her husband. “Race ya!” Her slight build and short legs were no match for Gavin’s six-foot frame and broad stride, but she never missed the opportunity for a good challenge. Besides, Gavin seemed to relish the whole male in pursuit of female thing anyway, so why not humor him and give him a little exercise to start the day.

           After he overtook her, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the center of the banyan. Even in the midst of the excitement, Maggie noticed the unique design of the tree. Gnarled branches formed the trunk and the compact leaves at the top served as a vast canopy which housed a multitude of birds. Each branch sent down a shoot, which rooted itself in the soil and caused the tree to mushroom.

            A tingle raced down Maggie’s spine when Gavin leaned over and gave her the best kiss of the honeymoon. When a skinny scraggly-haired man jumped down from the top of the banyan and scurried off toward the beach, Maggie laughed and snuggled into Gavin’s arms. She looked in his face just in time to see him roll his eyes.

            “Well, that sufficiently spoiled the moment,” he said, helping Maggie step out of the tree. “How about we see what ‘Maui Mama’ is whipping up this morning? I can smell the coffee all the way across the street.”

            “Fine by me. A sweet roll might actually hit the spot.”

            As they savored their pastries and sipped cappuccinos, Maggie giggled at the palm fronds that waved above them like Egyptian slave girls fanning royalty. Other tourists ambled into the sidewalk café for a morning pick-me-up, and she wondered how many of them might be newly weds, too. “We’ve made so many memories here. Good memories, huh, Gavin?”

            “That’s for sure. We’ll have to do this again on our 25^th anniversary.”

            “Good idea. That would be better than waiting until our 50^th when we’d probably be riding down the beachfront in wheelchairs.”

            Gavin coughed a laugh, spewing some coffee across the table. Maggie grimaced but didn’t say anything. “Right. I want mine to be turbo-charged. Pop a wheelie, ya know, and run circles around you. Of course, it’ll probably take us fifty years to save up for a trip like this, unless I can convince my brother to finance a second honeymoon.”

            Maggie set her cup on the stone table. “It was so generous of him to gift us this trip. What a surprise! But, hopefully, he’ll be financing his own honeymoon before too much longer.”

            “You have a match in mind?”

            “No one in particular, but he is coming to India, match-making capital of the world.” Maggie watched Gavin flick a crumb off his shirt. 
           
            “He says he’s a confirmed bachelor.”

            “Even confirmed bachelors can change given the right incentive.”

            “I want to see him find a good wife as much as you do, but don’t get any bees in your bonnet just yet.”

             “Well, we’ll just see what God has in store. I get the sense he’s ready for a change. Maybe that’s why he’s coming to help out in Chennai.”

              Gavin leaned forward, his eyes widening. “Woman’s intuition, hey?”

             “Call it what you like.” Maggie waved a hand, dismissing his comment. “Just a feeling I have, that’s all.”

TO READ MORE OF RESTORED HEARTS, ORDER AT WWW.CHRISTIANBOOK.COM OR OTHER ONLINE STORE.

CHAPTER ONE

Another contraction rose like a wave and gripped her abdomen. It was time. Locked in the moment, her screams sliced the air, the sheer effort of delivering her second child the only thought on her mind. Maggie tightened her hold on the sides of the bed; her knuckles turned white. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead like raindrops on a leaf.

   “The head’s crowning; push, work with the contraction,” Gavin urged from the end of the bed. She lifted her head briefly to snatch a look at her husband. Dark circles like half moons rested beneath his puffy eyes. He returned her gaze. His intense brown eyes softened. “You’re doing fine, Maggie.” He offered a smile. The pain subsided. “Try to relax between contractions.”

   No sooner had the words left his month than another intense pain rolled over her, squeezing her abdomen as though someone were wringing every drop of water out of a dishrag. The contraction urged the life within her into the light of day. She gripped her knees, her face red and contorted. With two mighty exertions, she delivered the head. Gavin suctioned the baby’s nose and mouth. Another contraction. Then the shoulders, and the baby easily slipped out, wet, red, and squalling. A timid cry, then stronger. Maggie exhaled a deep cleansing breath and relaxed back on the bed.

   “It’s a boy!” Gavin announced, beaming from ear-to-ear. He suctioned the baby’s nose and mouth again. Another contraction and the placenta was delivered. She peered around to see him cut and tie off the umbilical cord. A swift swipe to clean the baby and he laid him on her chest. Instinctively, his rosebud mouth made sucking movements. Maggie smiled at her little son, lost in a mother’s joy. She could feel Gavin gently clean her, then apply an ice pack to alleviate swelling and bruising. Off to the side, a blur of bodies swept across the room. The Oasis nurses tended to her needs and prepared to bathe and examine her son. That knowledge soothed her.

   Gavin walked to the side of the bed, knelt beside his wife, and kissed her. He stroked a damp copper curl from her forehead, then turned his attention on his new son.

   “A finer boy I’ve never seen.” A satisfied sigh escaped his throat. “Let’s get him a little more presentable.” He lifted the newborn and cradled him against his chest. He nuzzled, then belted out a lusty cry. “This little fellow’s got a good set of lungs.” Gavin grinned at his son and stroked his cheek causing the baby to once again move his lips. “And it doesn’t look like he’s going to have any trouble learning to breastfeed.” He winked at Maggie.

   She was exhausted as if she’d just spent the day climbing Annapoorna, but it was a richly satisfying tiredness. She watched as Gavin passed her son to a nurse. The Indian woman gently bathed the boy as his kitten cries filled the room.  She lathered his full head of hair, then rinsed. After she rubbed him dry, she swaddled him in a blanket and carried him back to his waiting parents.

   Gavin laughed when he received the bundled baby. “Well, look at that.”

   “What?” Maggie craned to see.

   Gavin sat on the edge of the bed and inched the blanket off his son’s head.

   Maggie smiled and shook her head.
           
  “I wonder where he got all this red hair?” Gavin teased.

   “And curls?” Maggie shot right back, glancing at Gavin’s head.
           
   “Hmm . . . maybe we should name him Esau.”

   Maggie glared at her husband. “Not a chance.”
           
  “Okay, how ‘bout Mephibosheth?”

   “Even less of a chance.” Maggie took her son and cooed into his chubby, red face.

   “Look how red he gets when he cries.”

Maggie ran her finger over the baby’s cheek. “My mother said I used to turn beet red whenever I screamed, especially at bath time.”   

“Ah, a temper to match that hair.” Gavin squeezed Maggie’s hand.

   “Watch it, hubby.”

   “Let’s just call it fiery determination.” He gazed into his wife’s face. “That’s what I found most attractive about you the first time we met . . . what, about seven years ago?”

   “Yeah, I guess so.” Maggie smoothed her son’s blanket. He had drifted off to sleep and looked quite angelic with lashes the color of sunshine lightly grazing his plump cheeks. She sighed. “How blessed we are, Gavin, that God brought us together to serve Him here in Chennai. And then to give us our precious daughter, Katy, and now a son.”

Gavin ran his hand over her hair, then leaned in and smothered her lips with a kiss.

   “So, what shall we name him? I don’t want to go around saying ‘Hey you!’”

“How ‘bout we sleep on it?” She yawned as an overwhelming wave of fatigue swept over her.

Gavin cupped her chin in his hand. “Right. You get some rest, and I’ll take care of Junior here.” He grinned and reached for his sleeping son. As he rose to his feet, Maggie touched his hand.

   “I love you, Gavin,” she said between yawns. She burrowed into the pillow and fell into a deep sleep.

~~

   The little girl with dark finger curls clutched a rag doll and grinned through the cottage door. Gavin squatted with arms outstretched. “Come here, you!”

Katy’s curls bounced like springs as she ran into her daddy’s arms. He tickled her and blew kisses into her neck.

“Is this a good time?” Constance, fellow missionary and mentor, interrupted the merriment, following three-year-old Katy inside.
           
“Perfect. Maggie’s rested a day and is ready for some company.”

“Good. Katy was about to wear a rut in our floor running back and forth. She was so excited to come over and see you. She was just waiting for the word.” She sauntered up behind the child and stroked her curls.

   “Maggie’s antsy to see her as well.”

   “So, Maggie came through all right?”
           
“With flying colors.”
           
“Well, she’s a real trooper, that’s for sure.”
           
“That she is.” Gavin thumbed in the direction of the bedroom. “Let’s go see the newest member of the Munsfield household, shall we?” He hoisted Katy onto his back and bounced her into the next room.

   “Mommy!” Katy screamed as they cleared the door. Gavin set her down, and the child ran and jumped on the bed, smothering her mother with kisses. Maggie grimaced.
           
“Easy, girl.” Gavin reached for his daughter. “Gentle with Mommy. She’s got a boo-boo.”
           
Katy looked concerned. She patted Maggie’s face. “Do you hurt, Mommy?”

Maggie pulled Katy to her and wrapped her arms around her. “Just a little, but I’ll be fine.” She planted a kiss on top of Katy’s silky head. The child peered around the room. “Where’s my baby?”

Gavin laughed and swung Katy into his arms. “This is your baby.” He snuggled the doll into the child’s arms. Her lips curved into a mischievous grin and her eyes crinkled. “Oh, Daddy.”

Just then a cry sounded from a corner of the room. A nurse wheeled a bassinet over to Maggie’s side. Katy wiggled out of Daddy’s arms and stood on tiptoe to peer at her new brother.

“Dolly. Katy’s dolly.”

The adults laughed. Gavin stooped down beside his daughter. “Well, what do you think of him?”

   “He’s noisy.”

Gavin chuckled. “Yes, he certainly is.”

“And his hair’s the color of fire. Like Mommy’s.”

Gavin nodded and winked at Maggie.
           
“He looks like a ‘Kyle.’”

   Gavin raised his eyebrows and lifted his chin in the air. “Kyle, huh? What makes you say that?”

“Kyle and Katy. It fits.” The little girl rocked back and forth. “Kyle and Katy; Kyle and Katy,” she chanted, then hopped around the room. Rushing to her mother’s side, she said, “Can I hold him?”

Maggie patted the bed. Wanting to protect his wife, Gavin stepped between them. “How ‘bout you sit right here and you can hold your brother?” He pulled a plastic chair beside Maggie’s bed, then offered another seat to Constance. She declined the gesture. “You four enjoy some family time. I’ll just step out and get some coffee for Jeremiah.” She smiled. “He’s a lovely boy, Maggie. I know you’re proud. Get some rest; you’re going to need it.” She patted Maggie’s leg and left the room.

“Tell Jeremiah to come in and see our boy,” Maggie urged.
           
Katy climbed into the chair and held out her arms to receive the tiny bundle. Katy’s awe-struck expression amused Gavin. He knelt and studied the scene. His life was rich indeed—a gorgeous wife, two precious adorable children, the calling to serve as a missionary doctor in India, friends, and the unspeakable joy of walking with and learning from the Lord. His heart was so full. A wealthy man. Maybe in the past his ambition would have moved him to pursue a prestigious medical practice in the States. What folly that would have been. He’d seen what had happened to some of his intern buddies. Lucrative practices, but living for themselves, some with broken marriages and no time for their kids. No, he was glad God had weaned his heart from selfish ambition and given him a desire to return to India. It was Chennai that had gifted him Maggie and now these two beautiful children. He smiled and cupped one hand on Katy and the other on his baby son.
           
“So, Kyle is it?” He shot a look at Maggie whose expression suggested she was trying the name on for size.

“Kyle . . . you know, I like that name.”
           
Katy’s mouth erupted into a broad grin.

~~

The thought of going to see the baby was more than she could bear. Yet, it was expected. The other missionaries would be there, crooning over the new one. They would wonder why she hadn’t bothered to come. Who were they kidding? Of course they knew why she wasn’t there. Why did everyone pretend around her? While Dan would make excuses for her—he always did—everyone knew. With every passing month and now years, her disappointment festered into depression like a sore unattended.

   Dan dropped his newspaper and eyed her from the kitchen table. “Sit down, Yvonne. You must have wiped that counter a zillion times by now. You’re going to wear the finish off.” He swiped a finger over his mustache and patted a chair beside him, then gulped some coffee.

   Yvonne picked up two plates filled with eggs and toast and carried them to the table. Dan spread some jam over his bread as Yvonne slipped into her seat, her long legs bumping the table. She smoothed her hand over her kameez and bowed her head. Dan said a quick blessing. Afterwards, they delved into their scrambled eggs with a clank of knives and forks moving in morning rhythm.

   Dan speared a piece of egg and shoved it into his mouth. Annoyed, Yvonne gaped at her husband. She squinted at his face, then flicked a piece of egg from his bushy mustache. “Why in the world can’t you be more careful when you eat?” She wiped her hands on a cloth napkin. “Maybe if you’d slow down, your food would get where it needs to go.”

“It’s a piece of egg, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t track grease all over the floor.”

   Yvonne shot him a cynical sideways glance. “Well, that’s been known to happen, hasn’t it?” She got up to check the coffee maker. The rich aroma was about the only thing pleasant about this morning. She sat back down and in silence started to eat. He reached for her hand.

   “When are you going to let it go?” His eyes were sympathetic, yet laced with determination defined by resolve.

   She pursed her lips into a rigid point and wiped her hands repetitively on her napkin. Tossing the soiled cloth aside, she looked at the ceiling. She couldn’t even tolerate being in the same room with her husband. How was it she had let herself get this way? Let the love slip out of their relationship like water spiraling down the bathroom drain. She was as frustrated with herself as she was with him. After all, it wasn’t his fault, even though it should be. He was the former drug addict. It would make perfect sense for his reproductive system to be fried. But no, it was her fault. Her stomach churned at the thought. The tests had been conclusive: infertility was her problem, not his. Ten years and no baby. Why did she hold out hope? It kept her stuck in grief when she should be moving on. She had buried herself in teaching the primary children at the Oasis Compound. While she had taught them and played with them, in her heart, she had kept them at arm’s length. Was it fear?

   “Come on, Yvonne. This isn’t about egg on the face, and you know it. When are you going to come to peace with the fact that we can’t have a baby? That we’re never going to have a baby?”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”
  
“All the doctors—”

“Doctors make mistakes; we’ve all heard stories that belie the medical profession. They’re not gods.”

            Dan sighed. “No, they’re not gods. But God has used them to show us His will.”

            “How can you be so sure? Look at Abraham and Sarah; barren Hannah. Even Jack and Martha back home, married 17 years and then a son.”

            He drew up his lanky frame and rose from the table. Shuffling to the counter, he retrieved the carafe from the coffee maker, poured another cup and sat back down. Whenever he was frustrated or confused, he reached for coffee, his drug of choice since he’d been delivered from crack cocaine. While Yvonne enjoyed a good cup of coffee, she wasn’t addicted to it and felt frustrated that the stimulant held such a strong sway over him.

            “We’ve been over this multiple times, Yvonne.” His voice was steady. “The Oasis children are our children.”

            Yvonne bit her lip and looked away. While she reveled in her teaching role at the Oasis school, it just wasn’t the same as having her own baby. True, her classroom was her kingdom, an orderly one at that, and sometimes she was a severe taskmaster. Yet, on occasion, she surprised herself with her own gentleness. Just the other day, she had seen a little girl rock backwards in her chair grabbing the paper she was working on and crumbling it in the fall. Yvonne ran to the girl’s side, helped her up, and brushed off her dress. Typically, she would have accused the girl of mischief, causing a scene, then reprimanded her for her destroyed work, pressing the sheet to her chest and smoothing it. Perhaps she had not closed off her heart entirely.

            Dan tossed his napkin aside and rose from the table. “Do what you will. I’m driving out to see the baby. If you change your mind—”

            “I won’t,” she said, a stubborn bent to her chin. As her husband walked out the door, hollowness filled her heart greater than any empty womb. In the past, infertility had brought them closer together. A team effort. But lately, they couldn’t be further apart. She pushed her half-eaten eggs away. She dropped her head in her hands and sobbed. Would she and Dan ever find closeness again?

COMING SOON FROM OAKTARA PUBLISHING!