Title:  Heartfelt Prayers
Author: Michelle W.

Disclaimer:  The story of "Christy" belongs to the
Marshall & LeSourd
families.  This is strictly non-profit entertainment.
*****************************

Heartfelt Prayers


I kept looking at myself in the mirror, and it never
got any better, no matter what angle I chose.  What
was I going to do?  I couldn’t let him see I had been
crying; I needed to stay strong.

 The soft click of the door downstairs gave notice of
Miss Alice's departure for the mission house.  Once
again the Quaker woman had been a Godsend to me in a
time of trouble -- over the past week she had not
only helped me care for Neil, but she offered a
listening ear, a comforting shoulder, and countless
prayers.  Just remembering her reassuring smile from a
few minutes ago gave me strength.  With renewed vigor,
I brushed my hair before tying it back with Neil's
favourite blue ribbon.  I then wiped my face with a
cloth rung out in cold water from the basin on the
table.

 There, I thought to myself.  With the muted light of
the kerosene lamp Neil would never notice I had been
crying.  Feeling somewhat refreshed, I made my way
over to our bed.  Gently I laid the back of my hand on
Neil's forehead, needing tangible proof of Miss
Alice's diagnosis that Neil's fever was lessening.  I
whispered another prayer of thanks for the fact Neil
had been home when he fell ill with influenza.  (He
had
spent the better part of the previous two weeks
traveling between here and Cataleechie, the latter
having been hardest hit by the latest influenza
outbreak.)  I shuddered at the thought of what could
have happened if he had been alone.

 Gingerly I sat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to
disturb Neil while at the same time desperately hoping
he would open his eyes.  Alice attributed his
lingering fever and incoherence for the brief moments
he was awake to his severe lack of sleep.

 “But I am just as guilty as he,” she had added, “so I
am in no place to pass judgment.”

 And neither was I -- I knew when I had married Neil
there would be many such long hours.  People did not
stop getting sick because the doctor had a new wife. 
Plus if I was honest with myself, I would not have it
any other way.  While I missed Neil when he was away,
it was this passion and dedication that drew me to him
in the first place.  To change this would be to change
the essence of the man, and I could not demand such a
thing of him just as I knew he would not do so with
me.

 Sighing, I stretched out beside Neil as my own
weariness threatened to overtake me.  Laying my head
on his chest, I listened to the steady rhythm of his
heart for several moments before praying yet again for
my
husband.

 “Dear Heavenly Father,” I began, “I know you have
heard our prayers for Neil.  Your Word says that the
fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much --"  I
stifled a yawn.  "Oh Lord,  please heal Neil. 
Please -- "  A sob caught in my throat.  "God, it's
such a little thing. . .please let Neil open his eyes
and - and look at me.  Please God," I cried.  "I miss
him so!"

 I don't know how long I lay there weeping, my tears
quickly soaking Neil's nightshirt.  I was tired, so
tired. . .

 "Do not. . .cry.  . .lass. . ."  A hand reached up
and began to gently stroke my hair.  I lay still, not
wanting the dream to end.

 "Oh, Neil," I whispered.  I could say no more as
fresh tears began to flow.

 "Christy."  The realness of the moment became clear
as Neil weakly tried to wipe the moisture from my
cheeks.  Swiftly I sat up, clasping his hands in my
own as I breathlessly looked at his face.

 Joy, thanksgiving, and relief tumbled about inside of
me as eyes as blue as the clear mountain sky steadily
gazed back at me.


*~The End*~