The Fourth Trumpet by Theresa Jenner Garrido Page A

can resume your journey with a lighter step.”
    “M-my journey? What journey? I’m not on any freakin’ journey.”
    “Life, dear child, life. Life is nothing but a journey.”
    “Oh, yeah. Great.”
    “It is great. Life is the most exciting journey anyone could ever have.”
    “Yeah, sure. One barbaric, cruel, incredibly long journey. Lovely. This so-called journey of yours is the most frightening thing I could’ve imagined. How long will this journey last? Will we be forced to endure this darkness and evil forever? How will we survive? Like primitive cavemen?”
    Eleazar shook his head. “No, not forever like you think. You think in earthly terms.”
    “Of course I do! Eleazar, I am living on Earth so how can I not think in earthly terms? I count the stupid seconds all day long, listening to that stupid grandfather clock in the foyer! Can’t you hear it? Tick-tock, tick-tock—all day and all night long.”
    “I am rather fond of that old clock.”
    “Well, I hate it.”
    “Andrea, take a deep breath and listen to what I am saying. Compare all this to removing a Band-Aid on your arm. You are hesitant to take it off because you know it will pull on the short hairs of your arm and hurt. But you do it. Why? Because you also reason that it will only take a second and then the discomfort is over. Right?”
    Andrea stared at the old man without hiding her condescension. The pastor chuckled and made a face. “I know that was hardly a good analogy, but it still gives you the idea of what I am trying to say. Think of a mother about to deliver her baby. She knows the pain will be intense, excruciating even, but does she refuse to have the baby? No. She reasons that the few hours of pain will be worth it when she holds that tiny miracle in her arms for the first time. Yes?”
    “I guess.”
    “I was going to paint the baby’s room green,” Carrie’s small voice interrupted their diatribe.
    Both Andrea and Eleazar looked at her in consternation. The woman, still lost within the voluminous folds of her blanket, was a constant source of amazement to Andrea, and by his expression, to Eleazar, too. His look was pensive for a few seconds, then he spoke. “A lovely, soothing color,” he said gently. “Do you know the baby’s gender, my dear?”
    Carrie crawled out from under her self-made cocoon. Rising to her feet, she tossed the blanket unceremoniously to the floor. “No, but I almost found out. When I had the last ultrasound. But then, I thought, no, let it be a surprise. I wanted to be surprised and Rob did, too. He’s so old-fashioned.”
    “Well, green is a perfect color. Good for a boy or a girl,” Andrea offered, feeling a bit lame.
    “At first. At first, when I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want the baby. Was tempted to-to, you know. But now, I love my baby. I want my baby to have all the love and security I can give.” She looked through them. “But fate is punishing me, mocking me. Isn’t it? I can’t even imagine bringing my baby into a world like this.”
    The preacher had to comfort yet another distraught young woman. He pushed himself up from where he’d been kneeling beside Andrea and walked over to Carrie. Carrie’s cheeks were flushed, and she hugged herself as though to keep from falling into a million pieces.
    Eleazar put his arms around the pregnant woman. At first, she shied away, but after his repeated attempts, finally gave in. Resting her head against his already damp shoulder, Carrie gave way to her grief. Andrea remained half-out of her sleeping bag, watching, lost in thought.
    When the last tear dripped down her too-pink face, Eleazar guided Carrie back to her chair and pushed her down. “I will go make us some soup. How does that sound?” He looked down at Andrea. “Would you like some soup?”
    “Yeah, that sounds good. You don’t have to make it, though. I know my way around the kitchen, even in the dark. You relax and I’ll make the soup. I’ll be back in a