Emily sat at her kitchen window wistfully looking out at her garden where long ago flowers once grew profusly. She thought about the days when she was young and would spend hours planting and weeding her little patch of ground. She delighted in drying the flowers for special table arrangements. Edward would sit in his easy chair with a mug of coffee in one hand and either his Bible or the newspaper in the other – depending on which side of the cup of coffee he was.
“How’s my beautiful bride?” Edward would ask, looking tenderly at his wife. Emily would smile. “Fine, and how’s my handsome man?” She would give him a gentle kiss before heading back into the kitchen to start breakfast. Life had been, and still continued to be good for Emily and Edward.
One snowy night deep in December, Emily and Edward started out on their usual trip to Wednesday night church to help serve the weekly meal for whomever dropped by for a hot meal and a place to be warm for a bit. Emily watched with pride as Edward carried pitchers of water and a carafe of coffee to the several round tables scattered throught the fellowship room. She checked her flower arrangements on each table, and smiled, but she never knew how to respond to the compliments from the other workers except to softly say, “Thank you.”
Emily and Edward arrived home without incident, but then it happened. A huge explosion rocked their modest home. An enormous ball of fire rolled throught the living room devouring everything in its path. Their Christmas tree instantly turned to a black heap of burned pine brances and melted ornaments.
The fire hit Emiy first and then Edward. She screamed. Edward jumped in front of her to try to shield her from the inferno that engulfed their home. The fire raged with a deafening roar. Edward managed to get Emily out to the garage before collapsing beside her.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Neighbors ran out of their homes and stood in horror as the flames leaped through what was left of the roof.
“There’s two people inside!” one neighbor shouted.
The firefighters fought their way through the front door. Fire too intense. Had to retreat. They ran to the garage to gain entrance. They saw the couple, unconscious and sprawled on the garage floor. They scooped up the couple as flames lapped at their heels, and carried them out into the cold, snowy night to the waiting ambulance.
Emily was severely burned and horribly disfigured; Edward was blind.
~That was 15 years ago ~
Now, Emily goes into the kitchen to get Edward his mug of hot coffee and bring it to him as he sits quietly in his easy chair. No Bible. No morning newspaper. Taking his hands in hers, she places them around the mug. She pulls up the footstool next to him. He turns toward her and says, “How my beautiful bride?”
She touches her face softly, feeling stiff ridges of scars and tight skin in between. “Fine, and how’s my handsome man?”
“Em, I wish I could gaze at your beautiful face just one more time before I die,” he says, softly. “After all these years, love never fails, does it?”
She smiles as much as her stiff cheeks allowed. “No, my sweet Edward, love never fails.”