“Father,” she whispered harshly into the dark room. A stream of moonlight fell through the window, revealing that her father was not in the room. The green and white quilt and afghan were rumpled and lying on the floor beside the bed. The water pitcher on the chest of drawers was empty.Maybe he went to get a drink,Layla thought.
As she reached the kitchen, a rush of cold air stung her bare ankles. Her flannel nightdress usually kept her warm throughout the winter season; a shiver running up her spine surprised her. Layla was thinking of lighting a lamp so that she might see more clearly before going any further, but then heard the back door creaking open and then snapping shut.
“Father,” Layla said hoarsely, and her mouth was parched with worry. She wasn’t sure what he could possibly be doing leaving the house at this time of night, and a sense of dread crept up on her. Springing into action, she kept her hands out in front of her, moving as speedily as she could. Through the back door and in the light of the moon, she could just make out the silhouette of a person crossing the backyard just beyond the garden.
“Wait,” Layla cried as she took off after the figure. Her bare feet touched the cold sand, and a tingle touched her toes and raced up her legs, but she ignored it. She moved quickly to try and catch her father, who looked so much like an apparition in the waning moonlight.
“Father, stop!” Layla called out, and surprisingly, Emmett obeyed. She caught up to him when they were only a few feet away from the barn.
“I must find Rosamund,” Emmett whispered manically. He was sweating profusely. The nightshirt he wore for more than a day was stained with sweat on his armpits and collar. A brilliant sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead as the moon shone down on him. Even though it was dark, Layla could see that his gray eyes were darting quickly in all directions. “She called to me. She said I could find her out in the fields,” Emmett said, nearly panting.
Layla’s heart lurched as she thought of the hole her mother’s absence had left in her life, as well as her father’s. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she ignored them. She grabbed her father’s hand. “Father, listen to me. Mother is not here. She can’t be out in the fields. She can’t be—”
“No!” Emmett yelled fiercely, and a tremor rocketed up his entire body. He quaked. “She needs me. She needs me! I’m coming, Rose,” he shouted to the black sky and then took off in the direction of the open fields.
Startled by his burst of speed, she raced after him, calling for him to stop, but he kept running. Layla was admittedly glad that his body was weak when he lost all his steam and bent over at the waist, clutching his hands to his knees and ducking his head between his thighs, allowing Layla to catch up to him.
He sucked in deep gulps of the night air and slowly lifted his head to look at her. “Rosamund,” Emmett whispered in awe. “I knew I would find you. I knew you would be here. You told me to come, and I did.” Emmett reached out as if to touch Layla’s face. He cupped her chin in his shaking hands. “I’m sorry I took so long …” Emmett said quietly.
Layla gently gripped her father’s fingers from her face. “Father,” she said, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “It’s me, Layla. Mama is not here. She can’t be here. She died years ago.”
“No,” Emmett gasped as if this were news to him. “I just spoke to her. She said to meet her in the fields. I’m in the fields. I did as she told me to do.”
“Father,” Layla said, and her breath floated on the cool winter air. “It is not safe to be out here in the middle of the night. I must beg you to return to the house so we can talk about this further.”
“I don’t want to go to the house. I want to see my wife!” Emmett replied indignantly, but his resolve appeared to be crumbling as the madness in his eyes disappeared and was replaced by sorrow.
“I know,” Layla agreed as she clasped her father’s hand. It was icy cold, and she squeezed his fingertips, hoping to warm him slightly. “I know,” she repeated, “how much you miss Mother. I miss her, too. We must do our best to try and persevere. ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.’”
“That was beautiful,” Emmett whispered. “Did you come up with that yourself?”
Layla’s heart was heavy with sadness as she shook her head. “No, that is a passage from the book of Matthew. I was reading to you from it earlier in the day, and it stuck in my head. Father, it is fitting to mourn Mother’s death, but you must also allow yourself to be comforted. You cannot run from the pain or try to drown it in drink. The Lord wants to heal you, but you must allow it.”
Emmett let go of Layla’s hand, and his own dropped pitifully to his side. “I know,” Emmett groaned, and as though a veil had been lifted, he looked at Layla like he could really see her now.
“Papa,” Layla said tentatively. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Emmett shrugged his bony shoulders and sighed deeply. “I understand. I’m sorry, Layla. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I’m sorry I got you into this mess and that I keep making it worse. I’m so, so sorry—” His words broke off as a sob escaped his mouth. Layla rushed forward and threw her arms around her father.
His quivering had stopped. He was crying in earnest, but his hands were not trembling as they had before.
“I’m just so embarrassed,” Emmett said woefully, leaning into Layla’s shoulder, letting his tears fall onto her flannel nightdress. “I miss your mother so much, and I don’t know what else to do.”
“Let me help you,” Layla whispered into his ear. “I know it will be tough, but I think that with a little help from God, we will be able to overcome. ‘I can do all things through God, who gives me strength.’”
“That’s from Philippians, right?” Emmett asked timidly, moving away from Layla fractionally to wipe a hand over his tear-streaked face.
“Yes,” Layla replied, smiling kindly at her father. “Shall we go back to the house and read some from that chapter?”
“That sounds nice, Layla. And thank you,” Emmett said softly as he allowed Layla to take his hand and lead him back toward the farmhouse.
“I will always be here for you, Father. We must be strong for each other.” Layla stepped lightly through the tall grasses. The morning dew was thick on it, and the hem of her nightdress became wet.
“Look! The sun’s coming up,” Emmett said, his voice filled with childish wonder as he looked toward the east. They must have been outside longer than Layla had thought. She shivered through her nightgown and pulled her father close to her side. Tugging him toward the stables, she thought they might have the best vantage point to watch the sunrise. The reds and oranges that raced across the sky reminded Layla strongly of her mother. Rosamund always loved wearing dresses made in vibrant colors, like those now flitting in front of them.
Layla followed his gaze as the sun crested over a bank of clouds. “Yes, it seems that a new day has dawned.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
