Author Archives: Katie Bertola

Wife and mom. Writing when I have time. Soli Deo Gloria.

Part 2, Chapter 9 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

He waited a few weeks to tell them, but his family were unfazed when he told them of the development in his personal life, as if it had been an open fact to everyone else but the two of them.  The only perceivable changes were the occasional, though polite, shows of affection, and the increasedContinue reading “Part 2, Chapter 9 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 8 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

It wasn’t bad.  Maybe it was, actually.  It was hard to tell from the photos.  With all of the furniture cleared out of the rooms and the daylight pouring in through the windows on to the white-ish carpet, it almost appeared promising.  Mindy Klugman had artfully captured the back lot in a way which maximizedContinue reading “Part 2, Chapter 8 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 7 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

 Pastor Bruce and the four elders were with him on platform, beaming. The poinsettias on the steps of the platform stood tall with their red faces lifted toward the frigid  blueness streaming through the sanctuary skylight.  He felt like he was graduating again, but for some reason it felt more like kindergarten than university.  EvenContinue reading “Part 2, Chapter 7 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 6 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

Around six that evening, he found that he was ravenous.  Not shocking, considering that he had eaten nothing over the past twenty-four hours.  As soon as he was with Joule in the nursery, surrounded by professional caretakers monitoring his son’s vital signs, he discovered that his stomach was growling for the first time that day.Continue reading “Part 2, Chapter 6 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 5 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

Mark’s oxygen tank hissed.        “These are my parents, Sheila and Dirk.  Mom, Dad — this is Mark Fisher.  He’s—,” Casper hesitated.  He realized he hadn’t spoken her name in months.  “Mark is Reagan’s father.”  Casper was proud that his parents didn’t miss a beat.  They both stood and warmly greeted Mark, whoContinue reading “Part 2, Chapter 5 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 4 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

Fifty-four hundred dollars.  Rosa had stopped by and given him the money in an envelope.  He sat on the couch and held it, unable to open it.  The Iowa Farm Bureau clock in the living room ticked rhythmically, the second hand making its journey around the faded photo of a pristine cornfield.  Pepper and Silver-FootContinue reading “Part 2, Chapter 4 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 3 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

He edited the final cell on the spreadsheet and sat back, stroking Joule’s hair as he slept in the carrier.        “Looks pretty good,” he admitted.  “Let’s do this.”       The first task was simple.  Separate the laundry into roughly equal piles so as not to overload the washer, pretreat the stains,Continue reading “Part 2, Chapter 3 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 2 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

Dr. Shakir smiled down at Joule as he placed the stethoscope against his tiny chest and listened.  Joule squirmed and hacked out a few irritated sobs.  Casper gently jostled him in a vain attempt to make him forget how exhausted he was.  They had already completed the work-up and EKG, and then had waited anotherContinue reading “Part 2, Chapter 2 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 2, Chapter 1 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

  He balled up the pillow under his head and sank his face into it.  It was warm and pleasant against his skin.  He ignored the noise as it continued hammering against his ears.  It had gotten louder as it persisted, strange and urgent, but meaningless to him.  Like the Dewitt’s abominable dalmadoodle next door,Continue reading “Part 2, Chapter 1 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”

Part 1, Chapter 12 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol

That same evening, he went up the overgrown sidewalk to her house.  Reagan opened the door and walked straight into his arms.  He hated himself as he held her uselessly, unable to say a word.  He had no comfort to offer.  He couldn’t admit that it was his fault.  She needed him to be good. Continue reading “Part 1, Chapter 12 // Though I Make My Bed In Sheol”