She blinked back tears. “My father, too…”
“It’s never easy to lose a child,” Faith said gently. “I had a miscarriage myself. That was many years ago, of course. Both my children are grown and married with children of their own. Yet even now I sometimes wonder about that lost baby.”
“Losing the pregnancy came so soon after my mother’s death,” Megan whispered brokenly.
“I’m sorry.” Faith took hold of Megan’s hand, and the young woman gripped her fingers painfully hard.
Apparently unable to speak, Megan hiccupped a laugh. “That pregnancy wasn’t planned, either. You’d think Craig and I would know how babies are made. I swear we do…It’s just that…well, we didn’t use the protection we should have.”
“Let’s wait and make absolutely sure you are pregnant, okay?”
“Okay. I guess I have to believe that whatever happens, God doesn’t make mistakes.”
“Dr. Timmons will be able to tell if you’re pregnant, and we’ll go from there.”
“Okay.” Megan’s voice was a little stronger now.
“What you need,” Faith said next, “is something to help you relax.” She grinned. “And I don’t mean drugs. Do you have any hobbies?”
“I do some scrapbooking, but I’ve been meaning to take up knitting. It’s so popular now and if I really am pregnant, I’d like to knit a blanket for the baby—if I can hold on to this pregnancy.”
“Think positive.”
“I’m trying.”
“Knitting isn’t hard to learn,” Faith said encouragingly.
“A friend showed me the basic stitches last year. I’m sure I won’t have any problem picking it up again, but I don’t remember how to cast on.”
“There’s nothing to it.”
“Do you knit?”
Faith nodded. Her last project had been socks for Troy Davis. “I’ll leave you now,” she said, lightly touching Megan’s arm. “Dr. Timmons will be in to see you shortly.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
Faith managed a smile before she left the room, a smile that slipped as soon as she’d closed the door. What were the odds of this happening? Faith would never have thought that eliminating Troy Davis from her heart and her life would be this difficult.
Her lunch break was an hour long. Faith had brought a sandwich from home and an apple. When she’d eaten, she still had ample time to run a few errands, so she headed for The Quilted Giraffe, the local fabric store. Her granddaughter wanted Faith to sew her a special dress for the Christmas Eve church service.
Faith had chosen her fabric—a green velvet Kaitlyn would love—when Megan Bloomquist approached her.
“Hello, again,” the young woman said, looking far more peaceful now than she had earlier.
Faith knew from the notation Dr. Timmons had made in her chart that Megan was indeed pregnant. That should make Troy happy.
She was doing it again. This constant thinking about Troy had to stop!
“Hello, Megan,” she said cordially, if a bit stiffly.
“It’s all right that I talk to you, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t want to go against medical protocol.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” Faith felt that her response might have been a bit cool.
“Did you hear that I’m definitely pregnant?”
“I did. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” The young woman’s happiness appeared genuine. “You were wonderful. Thank you for helping me gain some perspective on this.”
“Megan, really, I didn’t do anything.”
“But you did,” she insisted. “I was an emotional wreck when I walked into the clinic and after speaking to you I felt a thousand times better.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Faith pulled the bolt of fabric off the shelf and carried it to a clerk to be measured and cut.
“I’m taking your advice,” Megan said, following her. “Look.” She lifted a small wire basket draped over her arm. Inside were knitting needles, several skeins of a variegated yarn in pastel colors and a pattern book that included a selection of
“It’s never easy to lose a child,” Faith said gently. “I had a miscarriage myself. That was many years ago, of course. Both my children are grown and married with children of their own. Yet even now I sometimes wonder about that lost baby.”
“Losing the pregnancy came so soon after my mother’s death,” Megan whispered brokenly.
“I’m sorry.” Faith took hold of Megan’s hand, and the young woman gripped her fingers painfully hard.
Apparently unable to speak, Megan hiccupped a laugh. “That pregnancy wasn’t planned, either. You’d think Craig and I would know how babies are made. I swear we do…It’s just that…well, we didn’t use the protection we should have.”
“Let’s wait and make absolutely sure you are pregnant, okay?”
“Okay. I guess I have to believe that whatever happens, God doesn’t make mistakes.”
“Dr. Timmons will be able to tell if you’re pregnant, and we’ll go from there.”
“Okay.” Megan’s voice was a little stronger now.
“What you need,” Faith said next, “is something to help you relax.” She grinned. “And I don’t mean drugs. Do you have any hobbies?”
“I do some scrapbooking, but I’ve been meaning to take up knitting. It’s so popular now and if I really am pregnant, I’d like to knit a blanket for the baby—if I can hold on to this pregnancy.”
“Think positive.”
“I’m trying.”
“Knitting isn’t hard to learn,” Faith said encouragingly.
“A friend showed me the basic stitches last year. I’m sure I won’t have any problem picking it up again, but I don’t remember how to cast on.”
“There’s nothing to it.”
“Do you knit?”
Faith nodded. Her last project had been socks for Troy Davis. “I’ll leave you now,” she said, lightly touching Megan’s arm. “Dr. Timmons will be in to see you shortly.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
Faith managed a smile before she left the room, a smile that slipped as soon as she’d closed the door. What were the odds of this happening? Faith would never have thought that eliminating Troy Davis from her heart and her life would be this difficult.
Her lunch break was an hour long. Faith had brought a sandwich from home and an apple. When she’d eaten, she still had ample time to run a few errands, so she headed for The Quilted Giraffe, the local fabric store. Her granddaughter wanted Faith to sew her a special dress for the Christmas Eve church service.
Faith had chosen her fabric—a green velvet Kaitlyn would love—when Megan Bloomquist approached her.
“Hello, again,” the young woman said, looking far more peaceful now than she had earlier.
Faith knew from the notation Dr. Timmons had made in her chart that Megan was indeed pregnant. That should make Troy happy.
She was doing it again. This constant thinking about Troy had to stop!
“Hello, Megan,” she said cordially, if a bit stiffly.
“It’s all right that I talk to you, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t want to go against medical protocol.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” Faith felt that her response might have been a bit cool.
“Did you hear that I’m definitely pregnant?”
“I did. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” The young woman’s happiness appeared genuine. “You were wonderful. Thank you for helping me gain some perspective on this.”
“Megan, really, I didn’t do anything.”
“But you did,” she insisted. “I was an emotional wreck when I walked into the clinic and after speaking to you I felt a thousand times better.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Faith pulled the bolt of fabric off the shelf and carried it to a clerk to be measured and cut.
“I’m taking your advice,” Megan said, following her. “Look.” She lifted a small wire basket draped over her arm. Inside were knitting needles, several skeins of a variegated yarn in pastel colors and a pattern book that included a selection of
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