If The Shoe Fits. Marilynn Griffith

he needed to be concerned about. “Go with her, son. Go on.”

      He nodded and disappeared down the hall. I fumbled for my purse as the room emptied, leaving Tad and I alone. I grabbed for my phone but dropped it.

      Tad picked it up. “Who do you need to call—Mother Holloway?”

      I nodded. Shemika’s grandmother hadn’t wanted to come to the birth, but now I needed to let her know what was going on. Most likely she wouldn’t take the news any better than I was.

      As he pressed the buttons from memory, Tad moved his lips silently.

      I was too tired to make out the words. “What are you saying?”

      “Still praying. There’s always a chance—Hello? Mother Holloway—”

      The stretcher crashed back through the door on the way to the operating room, with the whole cast following. Tad and I scurried out of the way. Shemika looked sedated or seriously asleep. Jericho was crying.

      “She’s stable, Mom. They were prepping her for surgery and…” He buried his face in his hands.

      Tad grabbed him around the neck and hugged. “Mother Holloway? It’s me, Thaddeus from the church. This morning’s lesson? I enjoyed that, too. Yes, ma’am. Look, I just wanted to tell you that your great-grandbaby has arrived. A girl.”

      He covered the phone with his mouth and leaned in to my son. “What’s the baby’s name?” he asked.

      I shook my head. “Just tell her we don’t know—”

      “Moriah.” Shemika’s voice was barely more than a breath, but we all heard it.

      “Moriah,” Tad repeated into the phone. He laughed, then nodded. “Yes, it is a good name. I pray she’ll live a mountain life.”

      “Me, too,” I whispered into the folds of Tad’s shirtsleeve as he held me up, too. “Live tall, little one. Live tall.”