Part Three

Tenderness.

   Kyle and Emily Long had been preparing for the birth of their first child for months. Trying to conceive was arduous and difficult but when the news came that they were pregnant, all that work, all that frustration, all that trouble washed away. But the nine months ahead were long and equally hard. Complications and pains threatened to claim the child.
   Until the day of delivery. The cries of pain eased into cries of joy and then to panic as the child was not moving or crying. The doctors quickly pulled it away, leaving Emily alone, tears stinging her eyes. Kyle could only look helpless. An hour passed and the doctor returned.
   "Miss Long," he said, voice heavy and muffled behind the surgical mask. "Your baby is dead. I'm so sorry."
   The news hit the Longs like a train. Kyle sat down, face white and knees buckling. But Emily just sat quiet on the bed, still sprawled out in the birthing position.
   "I want to hold my baby," she whispered, eyes glazed and feverish.
   "Miss Long -- "
   "I want to hold my baby."
   They brought the baby to her, wrapped in a blanket. It was so still, so unnaturally still that it seemed fake - a facsimile of the child that squirmed and kicked and lived inside her womb for so long. She screamed and cried until she feel to sleep.
   Death sat outside the room, listening pensively. He had watched the whole affair since the troubles began. He had been alongside the Longs for every doctor visit, every specialist consultation. He, of course, knew how it would play out. Tragic, he thought, but he tried to be as indifferent as possible. He dealt with murderers via an icy demeanor. He shepherded hundreds before. But dead children were never pleasant. A rattling sigh escaped the jaws of the skull and Death checked his watch. It was high time. He rose to his feet, heels of his Italian leather shoes clacking against the hospital tile. Without a sound he entered the room where Emily and her baby lay.
   The sight of it made him pause at the edge of the bed. He dreaded this..... what he called the Separation; some mothers go into shock and denial. Some become violent. All wish to remain with their child. The sight of one such as Death coming to take their loved one away was never an easy sight...
   "Who are you?" Emily whispered, awakening from her sleep.
   Death stayed silent as he bent over her and plucked the child gingerly from her arms. Emily Long didn't move, nor did her eyes open. They were screwed shut.
   "There, there," Death said to no one in particular, whispering softly. The ragged voice was gone, filling the air with a lively and melodious one. "There, there. Everything will be okay."
   The child cooed in his arms and squirmed lightly. Death cast one more hollow glance down at Emily, eyes still tightly shut out of fear, and made his way for the door.
   "Everything will be okay, Miss Long," said Death at the doorway.
   Emily opened her eyes, filled with tears. She saw the skeleton in the nice suit, the empty sockets regarding her solemnly. She would've screamed if she hadn't seen the bundle in the skeleton's arms. It was moving, as a baby should. The tears streamed down her face now as a wave of relief and reassurance came over her. And then Death departed, but the last thing Emily saw was her baby's face, smiling and alive.