Ethid was pale, her lips dusky blue. She'd always been fragile. As the baby of the family she'd been Maria's secret favorite. Poor suffering child, she was safe at last in the arms of the Blessed Mother. But how Maria would miss her joyful smiles.
Adjusting the white frock she'd stitched for her sister, Maria determined Ethid was ready for the viewing tomorrow. Blinking back tears, she turned from the tiny casket. She blew out the oil lamp and tiptoed away, careful not to wake their grieving parents.
Crawling into bed with her younger sisters, Elizabeth and Catherine, she envied them their peaceful sleep. As the eldest, many tasks fell on her shoulders. Seeing Ethid properly attired for the grave was one of them. Snuffing the light, she settled into the warmth of their bed. Closing her eyes she slipped into exhausted slumber. If only she knew Maria had finished her new frock.
Tendrils of sleep took her down towards comforting rest.
"Maria..." a wispy child's voice called softly. "Maria..."
It was so painful to think she was hearing Ethid calling her name one last time from the gates of heaven. Tears pricked against her eyelids. And then, for some reason, Maria opened her eyes to what should have been a pitch black room. Expecting to see nothing, instead, she lurched up in bed. There, above her, was the new frock, floating in the air, illuminated with heavenly light.
"Thank you, Maria..."
But she didn't hear the thanks of her sister's spirit. She had quietly fainted.
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