Sister Ruth had taken Colleen's bedroom, as she was away at school. Ruth had insisted she didn't need a whole bedroom to herself and that she had made do with less before, but both Michaela and Sully wouldn't hear of her staying anywhere else but there.
Her hair was down and she was in her nightgown. She was ready for bed, but sleep wasn't going to come. It never came easily anymore.
She had Kid Cole's guitar out and was lovingly stroking the wood. She hadn't decided yet if the act made her pain better or worse, but it did make her feel connected.
She heard a soft knock on the door. "Come in," she called.
Michaela stepped in, shutting the door behind her. "I could hear that you were still up, and I thought you might like to talk."
"You shouldn't still be up, Dr. Mike. Your little girl gets up mighty early in the morning."
"I don't need a lot of sleep and we haven't had much of a chance to talk since you came back. Do you mind if I sit down?"
Ruth gestured to the foot of the bed. "Be my guest."
Once Michaela was settled she began, "Brian said you spent most of your day at the graveyard."
"Been doing a lot of thinking."
"It's good to take some time to think after something like this."
"If you're looking to give me some platitudes, it ain't necessary. I know where Kid Cole is, I know I'm going there too, and I know who to turn to help me deal with the present." She patted the Bible on the nightstand, a book that was never very far from her.
"I wasn't thinking of it."
"I'm sorry if I sound snappy. People mean well enough with their platitudes, but I haven't abandoned the Good Book. Some days all I do is repeat verses like 'He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain' over and over again. But at the moment, I am mourning, and it's not a fun place to be. 'Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted.' It'll all begin to sink into this thick skull of mine."
"Is that Kid Cole's guitar?"
"Yeah, whenever I couldn't sleep, he'd play it for me."
"I still remember that beautiful Thanksgiving song he sang when we were trapped in the cabin. Maybe you can find somebody who could play it for you. Would that bring you some comfort?"
"I can strum around on the thing myself if I wanted to, but I don't know if I could stand the thought of someone else playing it."
"I can understand that."
"I should have been prepared for it. I knew he was dying. It shouldn't have been a shock when I lost him."
"If I know you, you were busy staying strong for him, staying strong in your faith to encourage his. You probably didn't give yourself much of a chance to let what was happening register."
"And in the back of my mind, I thought God could still perform a miracle, and it was a disappointment when He didn't, a disappointment that I'm still working out with Him, but we'll work it out. We always do. And in the meantime, I just have to find a way to work through the pain."
"Well, we're here for you," said Michaela, reaching out and squeezing her hand. "We all love you dearly in this house."
"I know, and I love you all too. You don't know what a comfort it is to an old woman with no kids or family but the Lord's to know she has such wonderful friends. Maybe I'll put this guitar up and see if I can't get some shuteye now."
"Sounds good to me," she said, getting up to leave.
"You don't have medicine that fixes an aching heart, do you?" Ruth asked with an anguished smile.
"No, I wish I did, but I do have medicine that will help you sleep."
She shook her head. "I'll let you know how it goes though. I may end up having to take you up on that offer."
Michaela left the room and Ruth was alone again. True to her word, she put the guitar up and shut her eyes. A past conversation with Michaela was replaying itself in her head just as she started to nod off. Her eyes suddenly snapped open and she sat up with an excited look on her face. "That's it, isn't it, Lord? That's what you have planned for me next."