Abra woke up early without much memory of the nightmare and no desire to think about it. She’d gone to Dr. Rubenstein a week ago for a pregnancy test. Maybe it was keeping a secret from Joshua that made the nightmare come back. She hadn’t mentioned anything because she didn’t want to get Joshua’s hopes up. She had taken the life of her first child, and she wasn’t sure whether God would give her a second chance.
She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to awaken Joshua. She went into the bathroom, closed the door quietly, and turned on the shower. God had forgiven her. So had Joshua and so many others. Someday she’d meet her child in heaven. She wasn’t going to think about the past. She wasn’t going to wonder where she’d come from.
She dried off, dressed, and brushed her hair. It had grown out to her shoulders, as red as it had ever been. She looked like herself again.
She made coffee and turned up the heater so the house would be warm when she awakened Joshua. Drawing the covers off, she admired her husband’s body. He was fearfully and wonderfully made. She knelt on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss him.
“Time to get up.” His eyes were sleep hazy. She kissed him again, lingering this time. He made a sound of pleasure and said she tasted like toothpaste. When he tried to pull her into bed, she pushed his hands away. “Ah, ah, ah . . .” She moved out of reach.
“You started it.” He gave her a lazy grin and patted the mattress. “Come back to bed.”
“It’s Monday morning. You’re going to be late for work.”
Peering at the clock on the side table, he groaned.
“You can always come home for lunch.” Laughing, she headed for the kitchen. “I’ll have breakfast on the table by the time you’re ready.”
They prayed and ate together. He asked what she planned to do with her day. She’d be practicing piano and working on the music she was trying to write. Ian Brubaker would be over later in the afternoon to advise her. Other than that, she had plenty to do in the house and garden.
Joshua gave her a lingering kiss at the door to the garage. “I’ll see you at noon.”
Abra spent an hour reading Marianne’s Bible, then cleaned the kitchen, made the bed, started a load of wash. She debated going outside, afraid she wouldn’t be able to hear the telephone or get to it in time. But she had work to do in the garden. She had just opened the glass door when the telephone rang. She ran for it, catching it before the second ring.
“Have you been sitting by the telephone for the last week?” Dr. Rubenstein chuckled.
“Yes or no?”
“The rabbit test said yes. You’re pregnant. I’m handing you over to Colleen. She’ll set up an appointment for you to come in for a complete checkup. We’ll figure out the due date.”
“Thank you! Thank you!”
He laughed. “Don’t thank me. Thank Joshua.” Colleen came on the line and asked if she’d like to come in on Wednesday.
Abra danced around the living room. “Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Jesus!” She wanted to call Joshua and tell him to come home right now, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to tell him the news over the telephone, and he’d think something was wrong if she said she needed him right away. It was ten thirty. She could wait an hour and a half. Couldn’t she?
The doorbell rang.
Door-to-door salesmen had been coming by all week. She’d already turned down a vacuum, a selection of Fuller brushes, and Avon cosmetics. She opened the door and gave a start of surprise.
“Susan!” She’d never come by for a visit. “It’s nice to see you.” Remembering her manners, Abra pushed the screen door open. “Come in, please.”
Susan hesitated for a second before crossing the threshold. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
“It’s a perfect time, actually.” The joy over the baby just kept bubbling up inside her. A baby! She was going to have a baby! “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, iced tea?”
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
Abra turned in the kitchen doorway and came back. “Are you sure? It’s no bother.”
She saw the discomfort now, and felt an odd sense of impending doom. “Please. Sit. Be comfortable.”
Susan sat on the edge of the sofa. She was trembling.
Abra couldn’t imagine why the woman was so nervous. They’d talked many times when she was a high school girl hanging out at the diner. In fact, Susan had helped her make up her mind about Joshua. A thought popped into Abra’s head. “Did you come to talk about Dad? Everyone knows how much time he spends with you.” No wonder she was nervous. Rumors were rampant. She hoped she could put Susan at ease.
“Everyone has the wrong idea about us.” Susan shook her head.
“He’s been the best and only real friend I’ve ever had.” She swallowed hard, looking at Abra, and then looking away. “He wanted me to come, but I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Do what?” Abra leaned closer. Susan became more ashen with every second that passed. Her mouth trembled and her hands clasped so tightly, her knuckles turned white.
Susan shifted on the sofa so she was facing Abra. From the expression on her face, she might have been facing a firing squad. “I’m your mother.”
A chill spread over Abra’s body. “What?” She couldn’t have heard right.
“I’m your mother.” Susan repeated it in a matter-of-fact tone, though her eyes betrayed fear. Bowing her head, she rushed on. “There’s no excuse for what I did to you.”
Abra stood and retreated, heart pounding hard. Her mother? All her life, she had wondered about the woman who had given birth to her under the bridge and left her to die.
But you didn’t die, did you?
the still, small voice whispered inside her.
Abra put a shaking hand to her forehead, trying to think. Susan Wells? She’d always liked her. How could she have done such a thing?
Do not judge others . . .
Abra clenched her fists. How dare she come into this house?
Why today, of all days? I was so happy . . .
She stopped, remembering why.
The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged.
The telephone rang.
Susan jerked at the sound. “I’m sorry, Abra. I’m so very, very sorry.” She put her hands on the edge of the sofa and started to rise. “That’s all I came to say.”
“It’s not enough!” Abra looked at the telephone and then at Susan. “You’re not leaving. You’re staying right there.” She pointed at the sofa
as the telephone rang again and again, demanding to be answered. “You came and you’re not going until you tell me
why
!”
The telephone kept ringing.
“You can’t drop an atomic bomb on me and then just walk out the door! I won’t let you!”
Susan sank, shoulders hunched. When the telephone finally stopped, the room echoed silence.
Minutes passed. Abra clenched her fists and fought not to cry. When she finally had reasonable control, she spoke, her voice constricted with hurt. “Just tell me
why?
”
Susan didn’t raise her head. “I’ve asked myself that question a million times. Anger. Fear. Shame.” Her hands clutched her knees. “Guilt.”
“And you thought leaving a newborn baby under a bridge would make things better?” As soon as the words came out, Abra felt a sharp pang of guilt and heard the whisper in her mind again. What right had she to judge? Hadn’t she done worse? She put shaking hands to her head.
“I’m sorry, Abra. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have, but it’s too late now. Isn’t it?” Abra felt like she was choking. She heard the screech of tires down the street. She glared at Susan through tear-filled eyes. “Why did you have to bring up the past?” She thought of Franklin and all his arguments against having a baby. She thought of riding through the night with him. She remembered the woman waiting in the back room of a shack in the coastal hills. She choked on a sob, and the look on Susan’s face mirrored what she felt.
The front door opened.
Joshua hurried in, worried something had happened to Abra. He’d had a bad feeling all morning and called home, but she didn’t answer the phone. He saw her standing in the living room, distraught, and knew something was wrong. He didn’t even notice that there was someone else in the room until he had reached Abra’s side.
“Susan?” He looked from her to Abra again. “What’s going on?”
Abra pointed an accusing finger. “She’s my mother.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
Blushing, shaking, Susan stood. “I’m sorry.” All the color receded. “I’ll go. This was a mistake.”
Abra took a step toward her and spoke in a fury of hurt. “You mean
I
was a mistake.”
“No.” Tears welled and spilled down Susan’s pale cheeks. “No!”
Joshua could feel the enemy in the room with them right now, and the enemy wasn’t Susan Wells. He saw Abra’s pain and anger, her confusion, and he saw Susan’s fear and misery. She was clearly ready to run, and if she did, Joshua knew she’d never look back. She’d just keep running, alone, into the wilderness.
“Please sit down, Susan.” Joshua gestured a welcome. Lips parting, Abra stared at him. He went to her and put his arm around her. “Let’s talk this over. Please.” He could feel Abra shaking. Shock or fury? Her body felt cold. He rubbed her arms and spoke gently. “You’ve been dreaming about her again. Remember? You need to find out what happened.”
Abra leaned into Joshua for support and let him do the talking. He asked Susan to tell them everything.
Susan’s voice was soft, broken. “I was seventeen and thought I knew everything. My parents warned me about the young man I was seeing, but I wouldn’t listen. When I got pregnant, he wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I’d been such a fool. I managed to hide my pregnancy until the end. And then the pains started. I was so scared and ashamed. I didn’t know what to do. I took the keys to my father’s car and just started to drive. I didn’t know where I was going. I just wanted to get away, far away. I passed the turnoff to the coast and then thought about turning around and going back. I thought maybe I could drive off a cliff into the ocean and no one would ever know what happened to me or what I’d done. But the pains were so bad by
then. I pulled off the main road. I saw Riverfront Park and stopped. It was so dark . . .
“I can remember it like it was yesterday. I can still hear the crickets in the grass. There was a full moon. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to get out of the car. My contractions were coming faster and faster. I thought maybe I could find shelter, someplace hidden. I tried the ladies’ room, but it was locked. I wished I had stopped sooner, checked into a motel, but it was too late.
“I was so afraid that someone would hear me. And I’d felt such hope when I found out I was expecting you. My boyfriend had said he loved me. He’d said if I really loved him, I’d give myself to him, and I did—heart, mind, body, and soul. Then when I told him I was pregnant, he didn’t even believe the child was his. If I gave myself to him, I’d probably given myself to others. He said, ‘Why should I believe you? It’s your problem, not mine.’ He dropped me off at my parents’ house and never came back. I was such a fool.
“Somehow, I managed to reach the shadows beneath the bridge. I knew no one would see me there. The sound of the river would muffle my groans, and there would be water to wash with when it was all done. When you were born, you were so quiet, I thought you were dead. And to be honest, I thought it was for the best. You lay there, so pale and perfect on a dark blanket of earth. It was too dark to see whether you were a boy or girl. I pulled off my sweater and laid it over you. I didn’t know where I was going to go, but I had to get out of there. I knew I would never be free of guilt and regret. I never deserve to be. I was planning to find some place to kill myself. But in the end, I didn’t even have the courage to do that.”
Abra bent over, putting her hands over her head, not wanting to hear any more. Joshua told Susan to go on. When Abra looked up at him, she saw he understood. She had told him everything, hadn’t she? She had confessed the worst of what she’d done back in Agua Dulce, and he still loved her. Susan’s words sounded like her own.
Seventeen . . . thought I knew everything . . . Everyone warned me . . . I was a fool.
Like mother, like daughter. Abra wept. Her nose ran. Joshua got up and came back with two handkerchiefs, one for her and one for Susan, who sat sobbing a few feet away.
“It’s going to be all right.” He was talking to both of them.
Was it?
Gulping down tears, Abra looked at Susan and saw her own anguish mirrored there. “Who was my father?”
Susan clutched the handkerchief in both hands. “No one you should ever know.” Susan lifted her head and looked at Abra sadly. “He was handsome, charismatic, and spoiled. He came from a wealthy family and thought he owned the world. I wasn’t the first or last girl he used and threw away.”
“That’s why you warned me about Dylan.”
“I tried.” Susan’s eyes were full of regret. “I knew what that boy was the minute he walked in the diner.”
“And I wouldn’t listen.” She studied Susan’s face and searched for similarities. “Do I look like my father?”
“Not at all.” Susan’s voice turned wistful. “You look like my mother, actually. She had red hair. But you have my hands.” She held hers out so Abra could see the long fingers, the shape of her nails.
Abra leaned back against Joshua, taking comfort in his solid support, his warmth. She looked into Susan’s eyes and felt her pain. Twenty-three years of it. “Did you go home after that night?”
“After a few days in a cheap motel. I never told my parents what I’d done, but they knew something had happened. I wasn’t the same after that night. I did finally try to commit suicide, but my mother found me. I went back to school, but I couldn’t concentrate. I got a job as a waitress down at Fisherman’s Wharf.”
“I was a waitress in Agua Dulce.”
Susan smiled faintly. “I know. Zeke told me.”
They looked at each other, really looked. She’d always wondered
who her mother was. She understood now why Susan had paid such attention to her when she came into Bessie’s, why she sought her out and spoke to her, why she’d been so adamant about grabbing love and hanging on to it.