A Test of Faith Read Free

pain—”
    “
No
.” Anne wasn’t sure they’d understood the word, coming out as it did on a groan. “No … medication.”
    “Annie—”
    She shook her head at Jared. “No. I want to do this right, without drugs. I want …” She brushed a hand over her face. “God will bring us through this.”
    Her husband allowed himself a small frown, but Anne didn’t have the energy to say any more.
    Jared slanted a look at the nurse. “Is it normal for labor to go on this long? For her to be hurting so much?”
    Through a growing haze, Anne pondered his questions. Odd, but suddenly the pain wasn’t so bad. In fact, she hardly felt anything.
    “She’s having a baby, Mr. Bennett.” Anne felt herself smile at the nurse’s wry observation. “Pain is an unavoidable part of that process.”
    Jared’s voice grew a tad testy. “I realize that, Nurse. But she’s been in labor almost twenty-four hours. I’m concerned she can’t take this much longer.
Look
at her. She’s exhausted.”
    No arguments there. Good thing she was finally going to sleep. She must be. Why else would the room be growing so dark?
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Bennett, but until the doctor—”
    A shrill beeping sounded someplace in the distance,piercing Anne’s ears, setting her nerves on edge. She wanted to ask the nurse to turn the thing off so she could sleep, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate. She wanted to look for the woman, but her eyes were shut. When had she closed them?
    It didn’t really matter, though, because everyone else seemed to be speaking at once. A clutter of unfamiliar voices flew all around her.
    “She’s crashing!”
    “The baby’s heartbeat is dropping!”
    “Get the doctor in here!”
    “What’s happening?”
    The last voice Anne recognized. Jared. But she’d never heard him sound like that before. Alarmed.
    Frightened.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Bennett. You’ll have to go to the waiting room.”
    “Why?”
    “We have to get your wife into surgery.”
    Another voice broke in behind Anne. “Come on! Move! We’re losing them!”
    Suddenly Anne was moving. She wanted to tell Jared not to worry, but it was as though everything—her arms and legs, her head, even the sheet over her—weighed a ton. They pulled her down … down…
    She managed to pry her eyes open, spotting her husband just before they took her from the room. His face was so pale.
    Don’t worry, Jared. I’m fine…
    Had she said it out loud? She wasn’t certain. All she knew was that the darkness was growing stronger. And she was too tired to fight it.
    With a sigh, she let her eyelids lower and surrendered, welcoming the inky blackness as it enfolded her, drawing her, at long last, into blessed, peaceful nothingness.

two
    “[God] saves us in our disasters, not from them.”
    R OBERT F ARRAR C APON
    JARED PRESSED HIS ACHING EYES, GRATEFUL FOR THE darkness around him.
    “God, please … let them be okay.”
    He was glad he was alone in the hospital chapel. Leaning his forehead on the pew in front of him, he drew in a shuddering sigh.
    He couldn’t get it out of his mind. His last sight of Annie. How pale she’d been. How she couldn’t keep her eyes open. How the doctors and nurses had rushed around, alarm in their every feature and movement. And then those terrible words…
    “Move it! We’re losing them!”
    No matter how he tried to block them out, they kept playing over and over in his mind until he thought he’d go mad.
    It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They were having a baby, not facing some dire illness or surgery. They were supposed to be sitting together, staring down at the miracle they’d created.
    The baby was a girl. Jared was sure of it. She’d be a tiny replica of Annie, and every time he looked at their little girl, he’d see his wife’s beautiful moss green eyes and sweet smile.
    His throat constricted. Would he ever see that beautiful smile again?
    “Mr. Bennett?”
    He started, then stood and faced the