Standing in front of the mirror, she glared at the sleepy-looking face. “You will now get undressed, go into your bedroom, and go to sleep in the bed!” Yes, she ordered herself to do that. Lord, help me. She whistled for Spook. He would be more than happy to sleep on the bed. He charged up the stairs and skidded to sit in front of her in the hallway. “Come on, boy, let’s go to bed.” With him by her side, she marched into the room, folded back the spread, and reminding herself to breathe, slipped under the sheet and summer blanket. “Come on, Spook.” She patted the bed, and with a grand leap, he stretched out beside her, head on her chest. “I know this isn’t normal, but tonight we start a new normal.” Refusing to let herself look around the room, now lit by moonlight, she rolled over and laid her arm over the furry body. “Good boy.” For that she got a chin lick.

In the midst of the storm, praise Him! She’d read that somewhere. The words clogged in her throat. She swallowed. Whispering, she forced them out. “Thank you, Lord, for Spook, for getting in this bed. Thank you for Addy downstairs.” The tears welled and seeped into her pillow.

Spook whimpered.

“Thank you for You, Jesus. Lord God, I praise Your mighty name. You promised to be here when I call, Lord Jesus, hold me close. You said You hold me in Your hand and keep me safe. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. You said Your name is all powerful”—a song she had learned years earlier trickled through her mind—“there’s just something about that name.”

Spook snuffled and snored. Please help me sleep, stop crying, get through. Like a sweet balm, a voice whispered in her heart and mind. “I am here, I will never leave you, you are my beloved daughter. My love never leaves and never ends. Rest, sleep in my arms where you are safe.”

Birds singing in the tree outside her window slowly woke her up. She lay there, Spook now at her feet, and breathed in the peace of the morning. What is that fragrance? she wondered, still not opening her eyes. She felt like she was floating in warm water, like the time they had gone to Florida. The rooster crowed. What time is it? I don’t want to know. I want to float longer.

Spook whimpered and pawed at her leg.

“I know, you need to go out. Shame we never put in a doggy door for you.” But then Fred never minded getting up early to let the dog out, not even in the winter. He loved greeting the morning.

For a change, thoughts of him did not make her cry. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling for her slippers. “Come on, boy. Out the kitchen door.” Standing in the doorway, she watched a pair of robins fight in midair, flapping at each other. One fled, leaving a brightly rust-breasted male the victor. He returned to a perch in the crabapple tree. The tree was showing color on the buds. She needed to make crabapple pickles again this year when they were out. Fred loved pickled crabapples.