Wished For, Beloved
About a year ago, my brother and his wife lost their first child due to an ectopic pregnancy. It was a sad time for the whole Powers family, and back then, to process it a bit, I wrote a short piece of fiction. Below, I’ve provided the story in its written form, and also read aloud by me.
This story is dedicated to Miriam—wished for, beloved.
Piper felt the water pour across her bare feet, her toes sinking into the wet sand as the ocean collapsed the infinitesimal pebbles beneath where she stood. She closed her eyes and soaked in the tide, the sand, the sun finally breaking through the clouds for once to radiate joy across her skin. She smiled.
“Piper, come help me with the tower!” Miriam called from behind her.
Piper turned and saw her cousin, busily clumping sand into a mold to fashion the parapets of their castle by the sea, and then reluctantly left the ocean behind. There would be time later for the water. There would always be more time, wouldn’t there?
When she reached the tan-brown fortress, Piper got on her knees beside her cousin and grabbed a handful of sand, balling the damp stuff in her palm and feeling it squish between her fingers. “Where do we want the biggest tower, over here?” she pointed at the back of their makeshift wall.
Miriam shook her head. “They should be symmetrical, one on each corner, and then we can have the manor house in the middle. Like in Edoras.”
Piper frowned. “Did Edoras have four towers?”
Miriam shrugged. “Well, it had the Golden Hall in the middle, so that’s where the king should live.”
“Okay, that’s fine with me.” Piper took another handful of sand and mixed it together with the clump she already had, then plopped it in the center of the castle and started making a long building.
Miriam worked on one of the side towers, and they were both almost finished before Miriam suddenly stopped and then leaned her weight on the tower, squishing it down to the sandy ground. She seemed confused, almost frozen, as she stared off towards the ocean.
“What’s wrong, Meer?” Piper said, leaving her Golden Hall without a door and scooting over to where her cousin sat.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” Miriam said, her eyes still distant, watching the west coast like she had never seen it before.
“What do you mean? Your mom said it was fine, remember?”
Miriam shook her head. “No, I’m... That’s not...”
Piper took her hand. “Meer, what’s wrong?”
Miriam blinked hard once, twice, and then looked down at her squished tower. She pulled her hand out of Piper’s and started to shore it up, adding sand from the moat to make it tall again. Piper frowned and slowly went back to their Golden Hall.
“Do you remember when you were visiting us, Pipes, and my dad was doing family worship, and he was talking about God being in control of everything, and telling the best story?”
“Yeah, of course,” Piper said, putting the finishing touches on the door. The carvings weren’t quite as cool as they were in Edoras, but Piper was happy with them anyway. “He said that God is the storyteller of the whole world, and since He’s God, he knows what story is the best one.”
“Mmhmm,” Miriam murmured, and then abandoned her tower again and sat back, wrapping her arms around her legs.
She was silent for a long moment, and Piper took her place, finishing the tower for her, though she glanced up at her cousin a few times and noted that blank, distant look again, watching the waves and the seagulls and somehow seeing something else.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” Miriam said again after a while. “This isn’t the right story.”
“What are you talking about?” Piper said, and glanced up again to see a tear rolling down the cheek of her beautiful cousin. Light brown hair, made even lighter with the summer, and blue eyes like the bluest sea. “Miriam, what’s going on?”
“God didn’t tell this story. He told a different one.”
Piper somehow knew what she was saying, and felt her own tear burn hot on her face. “But, I like this one. We get to play together in this one. We celebrate our birthday together in this one.”
“I like this one, too,” Miriam said, smiling wanly as tears began to pour like a fountain. “I love being here with you. But God is telling a different story, isn’t He?”
“Please, don’t go,” Piper said, grasping Miriam’s hand again and squeezing tight. “Maybe this is the right one, maybe if we just go back to the sand castle...”
Miriam shook her head, slowly. Then she smiled again, not with as much sadness this time. Bright. The sun came out of the clouds again and illuminated her. Brilliant. She looked at Piper. “He has a better story.” Then she got to her feet and began to walk to the ocean, letting Piper’s fingers slide away.
Piper watched her step lightly across the sand for a few moments before trailing after her, at first slowly and then picking up speed, eventually sprinting as fast as her eleven year-old legs would carry her in a dash to catch her cousin before it was too late. Piper reached her just as the waves hit their feet.
Miriam closed her eyes, and Piper watched her take in the sensation of the ocean dancing at her feet. Somehow, to Piper, the sun didn’t seem as warm, and the water didn’t seem as cool. She felt everything become muted and dull as a sob threatened to claw its way out her throat. Piper looked down, trying not to cry.
Miriam took her hand, and Piper looked up through her tears. “Remember what my dad said, Pipes. God’s the storyteller, and we have to trust him to tell the best story. I do, now. And that’s why I have to say goodbye.”
Piper couldn’t help but sob into her cousin’s arm.
Miriam stroked her hair for a long minute, and then reached down and brought her chin up. Their eyes met. Miriam was still smiling, and the sun made that smile so radiant it threatened to drown every darkness.
“Feel the water with me, Piper. Feel the sun. God made those. He made you. He made me.” Miriam grabbed her hand again and squeezed. “Close your eyes.”
Piper closed them. She soaked in the tide again, felt the water curl around her toes. She felt the sun, and she felt the warmth of her cousin’s hand in hers.
She trusted God.
And Miriam was gone.
“God tells the best story,” Piper said to herself, blinking away the last of her tears and wiping away their salty remains from her cheeks. She glanced back at the castle they had made to find nothing but flat, damp sand. She took another glance at the ocean, the sun, the waves, and then stepped back across the beach to the spot where the castle had been.
She took another handful of sand and started to make a tower. This time, in God’s story.
Author’s Note: This story is about two cousins, yet to be born, and what I imagined their future would be like. The funny thing is, while I was sure that my wife and I were going to have a daughter (Piper), God actually ended up blessing us with our son, Finneas. In the end, none of us know what our future is going to look like. But God tells the best stories.