Kid went for the midwife after he settled Ruth into bed. The midwife was only a little older than Ruth, but she'd had many years of successful experience and she had a calm, reassuring manner that they'd both liked. Most importantly she was a praying woman.

The midwife came in cheerfully. "So it's time? How wonderful. I'm always so excited to meet a new little one," she said as she rolled up her sleeves. She felt to make sure the baby was in the right position and then they played the waiting game.

Something felt different about this birth to Ruth. The pain was much worse than it was with her first. She couldn't expect that everything would be exactly the same, she told herself. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact often.

She felt great relief when the long, excruciating birth was over, but the relief didn't last long.

There was no cry and the silence was a slow torture that grew worse with every passing second. The midwife had her back turned as she cleaned and bundled. It looked as if she were praying too, but at last she turned back around with the baby.

The midwife handed her to Kid first. "A girl. I'm so sorry."

The baby was smaller than Mercy had been. Her wispy hair was black like Kid's. He opened one of her eyelids, a beautiful light blue like her mother's. She had long, graceful fingers like she'd been born to play the piano or to be an artist. She was so perfect and whole. It looked as if she were only sleeping, but her coloring said otherwise.

"Why is she sorry? Kid? Why is she sorry?" Deep down she knew. The terrible pain of the labor, the lack of a cry, the midwife's expression, it could only mean one thing, but she hoped against hope that she was wrong.

He placed their stillborn daughter into Ruth's arms, wanting to say something to comfort her but words failed him. What kind of words were there for this?

The awful truth was confirmed before her and Ruth's sobs rent the air, which made Kid feel like crying even more, but he kept the tears back for Ruth's sake and his own because he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if he started. Crying in front of the midwife, a relative stranger, also didn't appeal to him.

The midwife waited patiently until the sobs subsided. "It happens sometimes. It's nothing you did or didn't do. Only God knows why. You don't seem to be in any danger, but I can get a doctor to look you over."

Ruth didn't care for her own health at the moment. She shook her head, but Kid nodded, so the midwife left to get one.

Sister Ruth prayed silently at first. Maybe it wasn't yet too late for her to be saved. God was the God of miracles. If only she believed like the saints of old, and she did, she could pray for Him to restore her baby's soul to her body.

She spoke her prayer out loud. "Oh, Lord Jesus. You give life and it's Your right to take it away. We are but dust, but look down and grant us Your healing power. We know it's not too impossible a situation for You for You are the Great Physician. Have compassion on us poor sinners. May she live to praise Your name on the earth. It's too soon for her to go to her rest. Please, Father."

The baby remained so still, so unmoving, and her last thread of hope was taken away. "No, no. no."

Kid took their daughter back from her, sensing her emotional pain was too intense to continue holding her. It was too much for him right now too. He placed her in the cradle they'd had ready for her.

He returned to Ruth's side. She was now clutching a pillow tightly. Her arms having felt too empty.

"She didn't even have a name," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"We can give her one now."

"I can't. You can, but I can't."

He wouldn't do it if it was going to cause her added pain.

He was still somewhat in shock over this. He wanted to go off by himself and just cry and grieve, but he knew his wife needed him right now; she needed a listening ear when she was ready to talk about it because that was how she processed her grief. And he wanted to wait to make sure the delivery hadn't hurt her. He reached out to put a comforting hand on her.

She cringed ever so slightly as if his touch had hurt her, which hurt him, but he brought his hand back. They waited silently for the midwife to return with the doctor.

The view out the window was beautiful, a purple-blue sky with a peach horizon, but it was salt in the wound, serving as a reminder that it was a sight their baby girl had never even gotten to see even for just a second. All she'd known was darkness.

The doctor gave Ruth a clean bill of health and like the midwife he told them how sorry he was over their loss.

The morning light was now pouring into the room when they were left alone. Mercy was calling to them from the next room.

Ruth longed to go to her to take her mind off what had just happened even for just a little bit, but her body wasn't up to it after having just given birth as vain as that birth had turned out to be.

"I'll go to her. She probably wants breakfast. Do you want breakfast?"

She shook her head.

He hated to leave her like this, but he had to. "Do you want me to get Reverend Meacham?"

"That would be nice."

Once more, he hesitated to leave her, but he heard Mercy call again. The world kept turning even when your own world was crashing down.