Page 59 of Muskoka Miracle

Dan paused, the sounds of the piano trickling outside to where he was cleaning his fishing gear. Sarah’s song was sounding a lot more polished now, which meant it was probably time to talk about the possibility of a Heartsong tour again. Not that he wanted her to leave him for weeks again. But she had to follow God’s call on her life, just as he needed to as well.

Which was what? Hockey? He still needed his agent to call and confirm if a new deal had been offered. But even so, he didn’t want to do this forever. But then what would he do? Study? Run a campsite? He scoffed at himself. He wasn’t such a people-person that he’d be great at that. Sarah was definitely the friendlier of the two of them. And while she might thrive on doing something like that, he could see that slowly killing him. Which left what?Lord?

He grimaced. So many things to talk about, not least of which was the ramifications of not telling their friends about their troubles getting pregnant. Boyd wasn’t the only one who’d be upset. His friends in the online Bible study group, men he regarded as brothers who played in other Original Six teams, he needed to share this with them too. Most of them might have families now, but he could count on them to pray, that they’d care, they’d be sensitive.

Poor Boyd. He probably hadn’t meant to sledgehammer his way through the conversation. But that was the price of not telling people. People then couldn’t know what topics of conversation could hurt. And the fact that something so life-changing, so huge, remained off-limits, or was taboo—he’d never heard the topic of miscarriage come up in one of Pastor Josiah Abraham’s Bible talks—meant it continued to hurt more people than those directly affected. Which was perhaps what Sarah had been trying to explain when she’d suggested talking about it on her podcast.

“Dude.”

He glanced up. Sam stood, dressed and ready for his important interview today. “Well, look who’s trying to make a good impression.”

Sam looked shamefaced. “A man’s gotta try, right?”

“Absolutely he does. Especially when he’s in the wrong.”

Sam winced. “I was just figuring myself out.”

“And you’re all figured out now?”

His brother shrugged. “I’m more figured, but whether she thinks I’m figured out enough remains to be seen.”

That it did. Alexa Reddick was Dan and Sarah’s wedding photographer, who Sam had bumped into at a Muskoka Shores pumpkin festival a few years ago. She’d ended up coming to a Christmas meal at his parents’, then going to the Philippines with Sam to take photos for Mission Possible for Future Generations, before her burgeoning career had taken her overseas. A Google stalk had revealed she was back in town for the Canada Day celebrations, which meant Sam might have a chance to finally make amends.

“I’m praying for you,” Dan offered.

“Thanks. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

“Don’t we all?”

And that was the truth. In not telling people, people had been deprived of the chance to pray, and to trust God for something beyond themselves.

Sarah’s music started again, which tugged Dan’s attention again. They really needed to talk. He nodded to his brother. “Well, hope it all goes well.”

“Thanks.”

Dan finished cleaning up, then walked up the steps to the back deck where the piano music had stopped, and Sarah was now talking on the phone. He paused at the open door.

It might be a public holiday here, but it wasn’t everywhere in the world, and her juggle with time zones, not just with family but with the other Heartsong Collective songwriters and collaborators, meant constant awareness of hours in various places.

She nodded, her head away from him. “I know, but I’ll talk with him today. I was waiting on a doctor’s report, and it’s just arrived, so I will talk to him.”

Hurt creased his heart. She’d gotten the doctor’s report? Why hadn’t she told him? Hadn’t they agreed to be open and honest about things? Unless she thought the news too devastating to admit to. Her voice sounded a little tense but not too upset, so maybe it was good news.

Hope flickered, a fickle flame.Please, Lord. He stepped inside. Sarah looked around, her face brightening. That was something. She wouldn’t look like that if she was trying to hide something.

“Mm hm. I need to go. I’ll be in contact soon. Thanks, bye.” Sarah put her phone down on top of the piano and moved to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her, and they held each other.

He rested his cheek against her hair. “You got the doctor’s report?”

She nodded. “It just came in.”

“On a public holiday?”

“I think it was sent yesterday, but automated delivery meant it was delayed until now.”

“What did it say?”

She pulled back. “I haven’t read it. I was waiting for you to return so we could find out together.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I might have courage sometimes, but I’m not brave enough for that just yet.”

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