TDTLBU Chapter Four

The world looks different through eyes blurred by tears.

The little room had been lovingly decorated from the dressers and bedside tables of good, old-fashioned dark wood to the walls hung with simple embroidery samplers and paintings of 19th century farm-life. The wedding quilt handmade by Myra's mother, the little gilt-framed mirror above the hickory rocker, and the dark blue drapes at the little window… all down to the wedding picture on the front and center of the dresser… it should have been a place of peace and rest, Myra knew. But now, the walls seemed to be closing in on her like the walls of a prison. This room had somehow become… for the time being… a place of nightmares and restless heartbreak. Myra simply closed her eyes to it all. She could not bear to look at it all.

The past few days seemed all like a dream somehow… or a whirlwind was more like it. A tornado. A hurricane, Myra reflected bitterly. All at once her entire world had come crashing in on her. And there was nothing she could do but lie here and stare at the ceiling. Hour after hour, day after day.

Rob had suggested books. He knew how she loved to read. And since their personal library had serious deficiencies (to the point where it could scarcely be called a library), he had gone off to town, returning with an armload of her favorites. Anne of Green Gables, Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Great Expectations… and so on. And now the volumes lay scattered over the quilted bedspread. Pride and Prejudice lay on the floor, half-hidden by the bedskirt. Anne of the Island was propped open, face-down by her pillow. Sense and Sensibility was laying precariously at the foot of the bed, across a weathered old copy of A Tale of Two Cities. She had tried… but mostly for Rob's sake. She couldn't read. Not even the battered and cherished volume of Pollyanna that Emma had sent over. One thing she most certainly didn't want to do was play the "Glad Game". Indeed, she may never even play it again. She was rather prone to sour thoughts for the time being.

From the kitchen below came muffled thumps and the clatter of china. Myra smiled wanly. She knew Emma would be hard at work by now, getting Rob's supper on the table. Bless that dear girl. Rob had intended to care for the housework during Myra's convalescence. He had promised… and even insisted. But Emma had other ideas. When Rob burned his eggs beyond recognition on the first morning and broken two plates, Emma had appeared, like a benevolent little angel in pink calico, to shoo him away from the oven and feast him on biscuits with sausage gravy, after sending up a tray for Myra. That, at least, Rob had insisted he could do, and Emma acquiesced with a sigh and a warning not to drop it on the stairs.

"That girl," Rob had laughed to Myra when he had escaped. "You'd think she was my mother from the way she acts. Bless her heart. And here I thought I'd starve to death without you!"

"Don't get too used to her cooking," Myra had attempted a smile but had failed. "I plan to be up and around soon. Not that… it's much use…" her voice trailed away and a tear slipped down her cheek. Rob had simply bent down to kiss it away before hurrying back downstairs to gulp down his own breakfast and get out to the fields.

"How can it be possible that just last week I was so happy?" Myra murmured, stirring restlessly and wincing as she heard Little Dorrit hit the floor with a thud. "Funny how happiness in life comes and goes in flashes… like beams of sunlight. Here today, gone tomorrow."

The sunlight certainly was gone that day, if anything. Ever since first light that morning, the sky had been overcast… cloudy and gray. At times a fine drizzle would begin to fall, but never any rain worthy of the name rain. Myra turned to the window, the drapes only partway open. She could see only the merest patch of gray sky, peeping through the branches of the old oak tree. A robin's nest sat on the branch closest to the window, with a mother robin sitting on four little blue eggs. Myra knew this, for she had counted them often in past days, eagerly anticipating the day they would hatch. But now, she didn't much care. The father robin… whom she had dubbed "Robin Hood", was swooping in just now with a fat caterpillar in his beak. He sat on the branch, gazing lovingly at Mrs. Robin Hood, otherwise known to Myra as Marian, with his brown head cocked.

Light footsteps on the stairs and then in the hall drew Myra's attention away from the robin family. Emma was rapping softly at the door.

"Come in," she called, forcing a smile as Emma poked her dark head into the room. "You know you're always welcome in here, Emma."

"I didn't want to wake you up if you were sleeping, Mrs. Hayes," Emma grinned.

"How could I possibly sleep?" Myra grimaced, then checked herself. It would not do to make poor Emma feel depressed also. One of them, at least, must remain somewhat cheerful. She was only thankful… so thankful… that she had not been the one to break the news to Emma.

"Oh, look at all these books!" Emma's eyes glowed as she moved forward, collecting the fallen books to look at the covers rapturously, as if she was devouring them hungrily with her eyes. But she stacked them neatly on the dresser. "You must be doing a lot of reading," she continued, but Myra shook her head wearily.

"I find that, for the first time in my life, I simply haven't the heart to read."

"Well, what about this one? Even if you're not in the mood for Anne or Pollyanna… this should help!" Emma picked up a large and heavy book from the dresser table and turned to show it to Myra.

"The Bible? But of course!" Myra reached for the Book, opening it reverently, idly flipping over a few pages.

"Here, what about this one?" Emma leaned down and turned a few more. "Mama loves this one… she read it out loud to us all the time after… after Grandma died."

"Psalm thirty," Myra murmured.

"Here… this verse…" Emma pointed over Myra's shoulder. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."

Myra was silent. She couldn't trust herself to speak, for she felt tears again in her eyes. Many mornings had come since that awful day… and none of them had brought joy. But maybe… she shook her head, the doctor's words echoing in her ears like a pronouncement of doom.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hayes. I did all I could, but there wasn't much hope to begin with anyway. You've lost the baby. Indeed, you may never be able to carry a child to full term. Next time… you may not make it yourself."

"I need to head home," Emma broke the silence. "Mama will be expecting me to help with lunch and then the laundry. Tell Mr. Hayes that I've left supper in the icebox… he only needs to heat it for a half hour… and no longer… or it will burn just as black as his eggs did." she smiled over the memory.

"Thank you, Emma Ruth." Myra smiled. "For everything." she gestured toward the open Bible that lay on her lap.

"Oh, one other thing," Emma said eagerly, then her face fell as if rethinking what she intended to say.

"What is it?"

"Well, I've just been thinking… but I'm almost afraid to say it. It might not be… sensitive… now."

"Well you have to tell me now… or I'll die of curiosity," Myra attempted another smile.

"Since you may not… not be able to… to have children…" Emma said slowly, biting her lip. "I was wondering if… well, there are a lot of children without moms and dads. Maybe… maybe someday… you could adopt a baby."

Myra's head shot up and she looked at her little friend with wide, startled eyes. Emma seemed almost frightened and she drew back towards the door.

"It was just a thought," she faltered. "I… I'd better go." And she was gone, before Myra could call her back.

"Adopt a baby?" Myra fell back against her pillow. The idea had never before occurred to her. But now that she thought of it… Slowly she drew a deep breath and turned again to her Bible.