For now she was merely a shell.
So each evening he sat awkwardly next to Mahrree as she distantly asked about the soldiers, and he wondered how to wipe away the shadows that covered her. He bounced his children, read reports from Idumea, watched neighbors go to the night’s entertainment, and waited.
He felt guilty about going to the fort where he knew the busyness of the day would help him forget the misery at home. But once he came home he was greeted by two little children who filled him with joy while their mother could not.
Although he always liked children, he was surprised by how much he loved his. He never knew how entertaining one-year-olds could be. Watching his little girl with big dark eyes explore the house, empty the bookshelves, and try on his cap was the best time of his day. When she giggled as she tried to put both her legs into one of his boots, he surprised himself by whispering, “Absolutely adorable!”
He held his little boy and watched with delight as his son attempted his first grins to match his father’s. More than once he muttered, “That’s so cute!”
Then Perrin would glance over to his wife who seemed to see right past her children, or noticed only half of how amazing they were. He prayed that when she came out of it she wouldn’t know what she had missed.
After two weeks he finally identified the pang in his heart: he missed her.
He missed their conversations, their fights, and their arguing afterwards.
He needed her stubbornness, her refusal to see things his way, and her ability to make absolutely perfect sense of things he failed to recognize before.
But as she stared off into nothingness, it didn’t seem that she missed him.
But still he waited.
---
One night, about three and a half weeks after The Drink, Mahrree dreamed again.
Beautiful land. Lush garden. Mountains. More than a dozen children. Gray wooden house. Window boxes filled with herbs.
She woke and sat up in her bed in the dark, alone. Perrin spent his nights in the gathering room on the sofa now, Jaytsy hadn’t come up the stairs, and Peto was still down in his cradle.
She was completely alone.
The only thing to do was cry. But before Mahrree could, she felt her father unexpectedly close and startlingly clear.
Mahrree, it’s not too late. You see too small a view, imagine too small a life. You’re so limited now. But the limits will expand until they disappear.
“Oh, Father,” she whispered miserably to the dark. “You just don’t understand.”
The words came gently, fervently.
My beloved daughter, it’s you who does not understand. The Creator knows your emptiness, and He’ll fill it to overflowing. But in His time. He has ways you can’t understand, but you will.
The warmth that appeared in her heart when she remembered her father expanded beyond the confines of her chest. She felt her body fill completely with heat and energy that reached even the darkest regions of her soul, flooding it with light. And the light brought something with it.
Joy. Pure joy.
She was so surprised by it she actually laughed in spite of her tears. Pain and sorrow leaked mercifully away, replaced with sublime anticipation.
“You promise, right Father?” she said out loud.
He was there—she knew it. She couldn’t see him or hear him. But she could feel him, and that was stronger than any other sense. He surrounded her.
Of course I promise. You have a glorious future with this sweet family. You don’t need to sorrow anymore. Never doubt your husband. Remain faithful and don’t fear. You are surrounded by help, always.
---
The next morning Perrin awoke to the unmistakable sounds of someone making breakfast. He checked his attire to make sure he was covered enough to greet whatever gray-haired woman had snuck past his sleeping form and was in their kitchen so early. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried to shake himself awake as he walked quietly to the kitchen door, then gently pushed it open.
“You!” he said, a little too loudly.
Mahrree jumped and dropped an egg. She turned to him, smiled, and said, “Were you expecting someone else?”
“Actually, yes,” he smiled tentatively and walked over to her.
The light was back in her eyes. Not only light, but hope. He stopped in front of her.
“Someone a bit older, with more wrinkles,” he said as he gingerly touched her face. When she didn’t shrink back he stepped closer and took her face in his hands. “Someone with white hair and a marvelous gift with yeast and eggs. But,” he sighed dramatically, “I suppose I’ll have to settle for you.”
She grinned at him.
He glanced down at the floor to avoid stepping in the egg mess and then kissed her gently.
She kissed him back. “Hmm. And how many of these women did you greet this way each morning?” she teased.