The Devil in Pew Number Seven Read Online Free Page B

she were ever going to enter into the marvel of creating life, a supernatural intervention to correct whatever was wrong within her womb would have to occur. She never doubted that it could.
    And when it did, she had no idea what was wrong.
    * * *
    One morning, Momma became too queasy to stand. Drained as if she had expended every last ounce of energy running a triathlon, she lingered in bed, head glued to the pillow. The knotted-pine walls of their rented bungalow seemed to grow as dark as the Black Forest with depression. She kept her eyes closed as if that might prevent the waves of nausea from washing over her.
    With no explanation for this sudden shift in her demeanor, Daddy took her to see a doctor who, though not wanting to raise their hopes, ran a fresh battery of tests. The doctor returned to his desk, wearing a smile so wide his face almost couldn’t contain it. With the enthusiasm expected from a proud grandfather to be, he announced there was no mistake: Momma was pregnant!
    It was Daddy and Momma’s turn to rejoice at the unbelievable news. Their countless prayers had been answered. Soon there would be a third plate at the table.
    They’d be a family.
    Now what?
    The doctor provided a book detailing the important vitamins Momma should take, a prescription for even more potent vitamins, and a list of foods she should be sure to eat. Like a student studying to pass an exam, Momma pored over the material to ensure she did everything in her power to fuel proper fetal development. This was going to be the healthiest baby in the world. It was also destined to be the most spoiled—that is, if the grandparents had anything to say about that.
    Momma’s pregnancy—and Daddy’s decision not to serve as a traveling evangelist for a season—gave birth to a whole new routine. Having settled down in Baton Rouge, Daddy worked as a self-employed painter and, on occasion, was a guest preacher on an “as needed” basis. His schedule was as unpredictable as the stock market. Momma’s days looked different, too. In the past, she had spent her time cleaning, sewing, and preparing dinner in anticipation of Daddy’s arrival. Now, she passed the time dreaming about setting up a nursery. Whenever she could get to a phone—their rented house didn’t have one—she’d call her mom and talk about baby clothes, her sudden cravings, and her latest favorite baby names.
    What’s more, she didn’t feel so alone during the day. True, Momma’s little miracle couldn’t communicate with her yet. But she delighted in serenading the growing baby anyway, humming a tune as she busied herself in the small home. Like any expectant mother, she glowed as if the sun’s rays illuminated her face everywhere she walked. Life was good, and it was about to get better.
    Three months into her pregnancy, when stepping out the back door of their home, the unthinkable happened. Momma’s ankle buckled as she walked down the steps. She fell sideways, hitting the stonelike earth. Hard. Too hard. As she struggled to pull herself upright, the weight of fear pressed down on her like a vise, crushing her with the thought that she might lose her precious baby.
    The baby they had prayed God would provide.
    The child she envisioned cradling in her arms.
    A grandbaby for her parents.
    Without close neighbors and with no phone to call for help, she battled her fears like a mother bear about to be robbed of her cubs. Nursing a twisted ankle and a bruised side, she hobbled to bed and slipped under the covers cocoonlike. The comforter did little to muffle the voices of shame swirling like a storm inside of her head: . . . if only she had been more careful . . . if only she had placed her hand on the handrail to steady herself down the two short steps . . . if only . . .
    Thoughts of shame gave way to anxiety.
    Had anything happened to her baby?
    If so, how could she face her husband? What would she say? How might he handle the news? He wasn’t a man easily given