It was all too much. Emma could hear the pandemonium and shouts of someone in the other room. Once again, her vision began to blur, and rather than fight it, she gave in. She could hear the doctor telling someone that she was losing consciousness from the loss of blood. After that, nothing more.
When Emma woke up the second time, she was tucked away in a hospital bed. She felt her waistline. A thick layer of bandages was beneath the overly large white cotton nightgown she wore. Her vision was somewhat hazy from whatever medicine they’d given her.
“Emma?”
Was that her sister? “Clara?”
“It’s me, Em.” Her sister took hold of her hand. “The doctor said you’re going to be just fine. The bullet sliced across your abdomen. A little deep where it entered. He had to put in quite a few stitches but said if you’d been standing straight on instead of sideways, you would be dead.”
“Tommy?”
Clara’s brow scrunched together. “Don’t you remember?”
Emma had a vague recollection, but she hoped she was wrong. “She shot him in the head.”
“Yes.” Her sister’s tone was so matter-of-fact. “I’m so sorry, Emma. He’s dead.”
The finality of the words hit Emma harder than she’d expected. Tommy was dead. His life was over. Just like that. In the blink of an eye. Blink of an eye... Why did that phrase ring in her ears? Oh, it was like a twinkling of an eye. She had once asked her father about the phrase after he’d read a passage in Corinthians, and he had told her a twinkling was like a blink. Just that fast. Why had that stayed in her memories?
“I know he’s dead. I saw him.” She heard herself say the words, but still they made no sense. “Did someone take care of him?”
“Yes. Colton and his brothers arranged to have him taken to the funeral home.”
“Who was that woman?”
Clara patted her arm. “It’s not important now. Rosie wants to see you. She’s beside herself.”
Emma nodded. “Please let her come to me.”
Her sister left, and Emma closed her eyes. How could so much have changed so quickly? In a blink ... a twinkling. She was being kissed, and then Tommy was dead. Why didn’t the thought bring tears? She cared for him deeply ... even loved him in her own way. So why couldn’t she cry over him?
The door opened, and Rose Benton rushed in. For all her twenty-three years, she was in so many ways so innocent of life. How this must have devastated her. She adored Tommy. She was even set to come live with Emma and Tommy after they returned from their wedding trip.
“Oh, Emma, I’m so glad you’re alive.” Rosie bent over and kissed Emma’s cheek. “Colton said that Tommy probablydidn’t even know what hit him, so he didn’t have any pain. But now he’s dead.” Tears came to her eyes. “She shot him dead.” She began to sob.
“I know. I’m ... so ... sorry.”
Rosie stifled her tears. “Oh, Emma, what are we going to do?” She didn’t wait for an answer but hurried on. “Does your stomach hurt? I saw the blood on your dress. Your beautiful dress was ruined.”
Emma forced a smile. “It’s going to be all right, Rosie. It was just a dress. As for the pain, they gave me medicine. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“I was so scared that you had died too. I prayed and asked Jesus to save you, and He did. I would have prayed for Tommy, but Colton said God doesn’t bring people back from the dead anymore. I was one of the last ones. But I’ll keep praying for you.” She sniffed and wiped her face on the back of her sleeve.
“Thank you.” For once, the words pierced Emma’s heart. Mama had told her so many times that she was praying for Emma to yield her life to God. Clara had sometimes mentioned in passing that she was praying for Emma to learn the truth before it was too late.
Was it too late?
A wave of guilty conscience washed over her. Tommy knew about Jesus. They had scoffed at religion and the rules that God laid out for man. Emma had agreed with Tommy that the Bible wasn’t for them. Maybe they’d reconsider when they were old and close to death. Now he was dead.
“Emma?” Rosie stroked Emma’s cheek with her slender fingers. “Are you scared?”
“I was. I was so scared I couldn’t move.” Visions of what had happened began to trickle back to mind. The young blond-haired woman all dressed in black—like someone attending a funeral instead of a wedding. A specter of death.
“I screamed. I couldn’t help it.”
Emma saw the fear in Rosie’s eyes. “It’s over now, and you’re safe.”
“I didn’t care if I was safe. I was scared for you and Tommy. I love you so much, Emma.” Rosie bent over her once again and pressed her cheek to the top off Emma’s head.
