ATOP Chapter Thirty-Two

"That brother of yours... he would have to go and decide to get baptized in the middle of the winter," Josh griped to Ronnie as he rummaged around in the church's storage closet. "Why didn't he take his chance in September or even October?"

"Guess he wasn't ready," Ronnie shrugged. "Are you going to hurry up and find that thing or are we waiting for the creek to thaw on its own?"

"Keep yer shirt on, I found it," Josh's voice echoed back eerily from the deepest recesses of the closet. He emerged triumphantly, moments afterward, clutching a rather dusty and ominous-looking ax. He took a practice swing with it, nearly missing hacking a chunk out of the closet door. Ronnie backed away quickly.

"You watch where you fling that or we're gonna end up with a funeral to follow the baptism," he said warningly and Josh grimaced.

"That's where they made their mistake. Making me do this. Now this I don't understand. It's the middle of the twentieth century. The modern era. Technology and all that. There are such things as running water and indoor bathtubs nowadays. So why on earth are we still dunking people in that creek? Anyways, an ax doesn't seem t'be the proper sort of thing to have in the church closet. Might scare people away."

"This is the price of going to a tiny country church. You want a fancy bathtub, you gotta go to Cleveland. Now shoulder that ax and march, we're gonna be late. Everyone else is probably outside already and wondering where we are."

It was a strange sort of scene that unfolded behind the Baptist church of Jefferson, Ohio that cold Sunday morning in early December. The congregation stood shivering at the side of the frozen creek, ankle-deep in snow, singing a rapid hymn through chattering teeth. And while they sang, Josh hacked dutifully away at the ice, grimacing all the while. A hole having been chopped through, Mickey was accordingly baptized and in spite of the icy temperature... it was a beautiful and peaceful moment. 

But only for one moment. The instant it was over, Mickey took off at breakneck speed, making a beeline for the church and its ancient woodstove that beckoned with relieving warmth. Shaking his head, Josh shouldered his ax and followed the newest member of the church up the hill.

Laughing, Emma slipped an arm through Rachel's as they wandered back towards the church. 

"It's a scene straight out of the olden days... a baptism in a frozen creek. You'd think they'd modernize this ole' church a bit... but seems people like it to stay exactly the way it's been since it was built a hundred years ago... oh but things that don't change are precious, aren't they?"

"Things that do not change..." Rachel echoed softly. "Ach, dearest friend... there is nothing in my life that has ever stayed the same..." she trailed off and, turning to look at Emma, added in sudden concern, "Are you all right? You look a bit..."

"Tired," Emma said quickly. "Just tired, that's all..." and she smiled reassuringly. "I am nothing to worry about. On the other hand, that little brother of mine who just ran through the snow sopping wet with freezing cold water..."

♡♡♡

"What is going on at the Baptist church?" Josh tsked, shaking his head regretfully as he wandered into the kitchen. "Those craaaazy Baptists..." He was looking at the newspaper, which he thrust dramatically and with a flourish onto the table in front of Emma. "Behold, dear wife."

Emma accordingly beheld, and her eyes grew wide. There on the front page of the newspaper was a somewhat blurry picture of Mickey running up the hill towards the church and what looked rather like Josh chasing him with an ax...

"Well, of all things!" she managed to cry in astonishment. "Who on earth took that picture?" 

"Cain't imagine," Josh drawled, flinging himself into a chair with an ungraceful thud. "But I'm gonna get to the bottom of this..." He snatched the paper back to frown more closely at it. Emma leaned back in her chair, pressed a hand to her stomach, and sighed a long, drawn-out, weary sort of sigh. Josh noticed it and looked up at her. She smiled at him, but it was something more of a grimace. He noticed then that her hair, usually neatly pinned up by this time of the morning, was in a tangled mess, a few sweaty strands dangling over her eyes that she didn't bother to push aside. Her face seemed a bit paler than it ought to be.

"I'm sorry," she said ruefully. "I... haven't done anything about breakfast..."

If Josh was surprised, he didn't show it. Any other day, and Emma would have laden that table with bacon, eggs, cinnamon rolls, hashbrowns, apple juice, and coffee... but he said nothing about the lack thereof. 

"Aw, don't be sorry," he grinned. "You make such showstoppers of breakfasts all the time... you deserve a break for sure. A break a hundred times over. I'm not much good at cooking, but I'll see what I can rustle up. Whaddya want?"

"Ohhhh..." Emma sighed again. "I... don't really want anything." A sort of shadow seemed to pass over her face and Josh's own paled.

"You... alright, sweetheart?" he moved to bend over her, gently brushing the tangled hair back from her face. "Sick or something?"

"Oh... I don't think so..." Emma tried to smile and didn't completely succeed. "Just a bit of a cramp, that's all. It'll pass. And I'll make the breakfast up to you with lunch. Chicken pot pie?"

"As tempting as that is," Josh loved the very thought of Emma's homemade pot pie... "I must insist that you take today completely off of cooking. And tomorrow too, and as many days as you need to, because you don't look quite yourself, and I will not have that." He shook his finger sternly at her. "We are surrounded by amazing cooks... your mom, my mom, Rachel... and we can get by for a while. I'd rather have you feeling okay than... than a triple chocolate layer cake with fudge frosting. You understand?"

"You..." Emma prepared herself to protest, but couldn't quite get up the will-power to do so. "...are extremely stubborn..." 

"That's my specialty," Josh winked and leaned forward to press a kiss on her cheek. "That and cartwheels." And he turned two of them across the kitchen to find the novel Emma had left half-read on the counter. After several minutes and a few more half-attempts at arguing on Emma's part and rather more effective arguments on Josh's part, Emma was settled in an armchair by the fire with a stack of books and Josh was rattling ominously in the kitchen with the pots and pans.