Marilynn Griffith - If The Shoe Fits

Those voices, first the doctor’s and then Tad’s were the last I remembered hearing. From there, I was back in an icy recovery room, waking to the sensation of my insides on fire. No one was in the room but a nurse who looked as if she’d rather be somewhere, anywhere else. Her voice, though, was much kinder than her appearance when I asked about the baby.

“He’s fine,” she’d said in a soft tone. “There won’t be any more, though. Babies, I mean. You had some problems. The doctor will come and talk to you about it later. Just be thankful that you got one.”

She wasn’t the last person to tell me that and the doctor never came to explain. But now, here in Shemika’s hospital room, all the pain and regret came back to me. I gripped my waist and doubled over.

“Are you all right, Grandma?” one of the nurses asked as they moved Shemika from the bed to a stretcher.

I could hear Tad still praying under his breath. “I’m fine, just a little shaken.”

Jericho, who had said nothing in the past few minutes, squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, Mom. I never knew it was like this.”

My fingers trembled. I didn’t know if he was sorry for what was happening to Shemika or for what had happened to me. Either way, I wasn’t the one he needed to be concerned about. “Go with her, son. Go on.”

He nodded and disappeared down the hall. I fumbled for my purse as the room emptied, leaving Tad and I alone. I grabbed for my phone but dropped it.

Tad picked it up. “Who do you need to call—Mother Holloway?”

I nodded. Shemika’s grandmother hadn’t wanted to come to the birth, but now I needed to let her know what was going on. Most likely she wouldn’t take the news any better than I was.

As he pressed the buttons from memory, Tad moved his lips silently.

I was too tired to make out the words. “What are you saying?”

“Still praying. There’s always a chance—Hello? Mother Holloway—”

The stretcher crashed back through the door on the way to the operating room, with the whole cast following. Tad and I scurried out of the way. Shemika looked sedated or seriously asleep. Jericho was crying.

“She’s stable, Mom. They were prepping her for surgery and…” He buried his face in his hands.

Tad grabbed him around the neck and hugged. “Mother Holloway? It’s me, Thaddeus from the church. This morning’s lesson? I enjoyed that, too. Yes, ma’am. Look, I just wanted to tell you that your great-grandbaby has arrived. A girl.”

He covered the phone with his mouth and leaned in to my son. “What’s the baby’s name?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just tell her we don’t know—”

“Moriah.” Shemika’s voice was barely more than a breath, but we all heard it.

“Moriah,” Tad repeated into the phone. He laughed, then nodded. “Yes, it is a good name. I pray she’ll live a mountain life.”

“Me, too,” I whispered into the folds of Tad’s shirtsleeve as he held me up, too. “Live tall, little one. Live tall.”

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