Rain Dance (29 page)

Mom and I sat on the couch later while our husbands took my brother home. “I wish I was strong enough for Stevie to move in here,” she said. “But I guess it’s more than a health issue. I’m old. He needs his younger ‘parents’ to care for him in ways I just can’t.” Tears filled her eyes. “I regret my choices.”

“Mom—”

“Please let me finish. I know I accomplished some good things. But Stacie, all the memories I sacrificed. I can’t have them back. I kept him from myself and from you. I’m sorry!”

“I forgive you.”

She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I don’t know how you can. I robbed you of your little brother.”

I chose to hold her hand in silence. I had no words.

“Tonight was the most wonderful night I’ve experienced since I turned my back on my son and made your dad take him away.” She took a few deep breaths then cried out, “Oh, God, how harshly will You judge me?”

I’d never heard my mother speak to God before, only about her non-belief in Him. Excitement fluttered across my soul.

I gently lifted her chin. “Mom?”

Looking into her eyes was like seeing my own reflection a few months earlier, when I first grieved for my aborted baby. “God is fearfully just and wonderfully fair. He is the inventor of love and forgiveness.”

“You found Him?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes.”

“Your grandparents’ prayers have finally been answered.”

Before I could share more, Mike and Dad returned, and it was time to go home. I hugged my mother and whispered, “When you decide to start reading the Bible I saw in your bag, begin with the New Testament. Pretend you’re teaching a group of would-be politicians about the legal ethics of Pontias Pilate and Herod.”

Hey, it worked for me.

In the car, Mike asked, “Do you want to go to church tomorrow with Ben and Jonica?”

Yes was all I said. I didn’t want him turned off by the mixture of fear and giddy excitement zigzagging in my stomach.

It was almost too much good stuff for one day.

Chapter
26

Jonica

The doorbell rang and there stood Stacie, holding Jonathan, a bouquet of roses, and a diaper bag.

“Happy Anniversary!”

I took the bouquet she held toward me. “Anniversary?”

“Yep. One year ago today, I stood outside this same door for the first time.”

“Oh my.”

I put the roses in water while she unwrapped the baby. Together we watched as he yawned, stretched, then rubbed his eye with a tiny fist. Each movement held our undivided attention as if he’d accomplished something worthy of a CNN special broadcast.

“Just rest, sleepy boy,” his mother said rocking the car seat.

“He looks a little scrunched in there. Doesn’t he sleep better in a crib?”

“This will work.”

“So will the crib upstairs.”

“Are you sure?”

“Come on up.”

I’d aired out and dusted the little room, looking forward to visits with the children who would fill it with life and sleep there. Stacie handed me her son, and I put him in the crib, covering him with a soft cotton blanket, and turned on the music box. He stretched, yawned again, and opened his eyes for a second. Then they fluttered shut. I switched on the baby intercom, and we went downstairs.

While fresh coffee brewed, Stacie hunted for her favorite mug in the cupboard. As she stood on her tiptoes, I noticed her bare feet.

“Need another pair of socks?” I couldn’t hold back a smirk.

“No. The ones you gave me last year are in the diaper bag. At least I came prepared.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Stacie.”

“Me too.”

We hugged as the pot gurgled to a finish.

“So how are you?” Stacie asked.

“Good most days. Every now and then a comment catches me off guard. I realize some people are simply ignorant; others are uncomfortable, but still want to be kind. A few are just mean. People always ask if we have a family, meaning children.”

“How do you respond to that?”

“I don’t want to offend anyone or say anything to make them feel sorry for us, but it’s a challenge. I say, ‘Yes, and here he is—my husband, Ben.’ ”

“Does it stop there?”

“Not always. Sometimes, thinking I didn’t understand, they ask how many children we have.”

“And you say?”

“None. We enjoy our three lively nephews, and we’re looking forward to a new niece in a few months.”

Stacie smiled and took a sip of coffee.

“How’s Mike?”

She told me how he enjoyed being back in church, although the upbeat music was different from what he remembered. “He is amazed at the number of people he knows though. He had no idea until our first Sunday that you went to the same church as his parents, the Daniels, and Stevie. Mike’s parents sure are enjoying getting to know yours. I guess God had a purpose for us all being together in one place that week.”

We settled into a comfortable silence, remembering the reunion in the narthex on what we now called Homecoming Sunday. Stacie briefly shared her conversion with her in-laws and Chandler Daniels. Stevie hugged his sister and headed to his class singing “Jesus Loves Me,” shouting the “this I know” part. Della greeted Stacie at the nursery door and sweetly complimented Jonathan’s beauty.

Stacie said, “What a nice Grandma.”

I thought,
what a difference a year makes.

“How is your mom?”

“Oh, Jonica, I’m so scared. Even with her cancer in remission it’s like there’s a time bomb inside her that could explode at any moment. And then there are the risks I face.”

So many things to pray for.

Stacie

I rang Jonica’s doorbell, caught up in the memory of the first time I’d stood there. I looked back at my car parked neatly at the curb. The anger was long gone, and I anticipated a sweet visit with my friend.

When she offered to let Jonathan sleep in the crib upstairs, I didn’t want to put her through that. She covered it well, but I knew there were still comments and criticisms.

I hadn’t faced that yet, but knew I might. Our pastor had asked me to give my testimony before my upcoming baptism. I warned him it could cause a stir because it involved an abortion. He agreed I’d probably endure misunderstanding, but encouraged me to share the full extent of God’s amazing grace.

I knew that people on both sides of the issue prefer to see only the political aspects. Everyone, except for a rare few like Jonica, seemed to forget that in every abortion there are two, sometimes three, victims: the baby who dies, the woman who survives, and often the man who longs to be a daddy and grieves the lost child deeply.

A few days earlier, Mike and I had visited the cemetery where we’d purchased a small stone and plot. The stone reads:

Baby Cutter, we will come to you.

2 Samuel 12:23.

Love, Mom and Dad.

With some of the inheritance from my grandparents, we bought a small section of the cemetery for people like us: parents who wanted to honor the memory of the little ones they’d aborted. They put the stone into the ground on the anniversary of the abortion. As much as it hurts, it’s also part of the healing.

Jonica and I giggled over my bare feet and the socks stuffed in the diaper bag. I’d never returned them because I kept needing them. They were my only borrowed pair, and my favorites.

A comfortable quiet enveloped us. It’s so nice to be with a person who is at ease in a quiet moment. We were both remembering when Mike and I first went to church. God gave us a bunch of blessings that morning.

First of all, Jonathan woke up earlier, giving us more time to get ready. Then, when we pulled up in front of the church, Mike said, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes. Why?”

“This is where my mom and dad go.”

That’s when I saw Stevie and the Daniels going in.

“Hurry, Mike. There’s my brother.”

Stevie’s voice reverberated off the hallway walls as he sang his joy to Jesus.

When I shared my newfound faith with Mike’s parents they hugged me. His mom told me, “Stacie, I’m sorry I wasn’t kinder to you when you married Mike. You’ve always been the right woman for our son. You are the answers to this mother’s prayers.”

“I love him,” I whispered.

“It shows.”

Then Jonica’s mom and dad stopped for a hug. They didn’t say much, but their eyes spoke volumes. We sat between Mike’s parents and Jonica. Ben joined us when he finished ushering.

The music lifted my spirit even higher, and the honest response of the congregation, prepared me for the message. During the closing prayer, I heard my husband sniff. I peeked and saw his lips moving in prayer, and I knew. We’d both come home in our hearts.

Jonica’s next question jolted me out of reminiscing. She only asked about my mom and couldn’t know that was my newest battleground.

“I’m so scared.”

She set down her coffee cup and leaned toward me. I told her about my fears—how this insidious disease had attacked my grandmother and now my mother.

“Mom e-mailed me this.” I reached into the diaper bag and handed her a study proving the increased risk of breast cancer in women who’d chosen abortions. “I have two strikes against me.”

My friend’s eyes filled with concern. Instead of offering empty words of comfort, she knelt down on the floor in front of me and took my hands. And she prayed.

Chapter
27

Jonica

Della called and invited me over to meet her grandchildren. Since I was involved a little with the teens at church, she hoped we’d connect and the three younger ones would come to church and meet some kids their ages.

“I’m not what kids today consider cool, Della.”

“They don’t need cool. They need a mentor, and Alisha needs a friend. Don shared his faith with each of them in the letters we found. These kids need a Christian connection besides me.”

“I’d love to meet them. What if I come over early and we pray together for them?”

When I got there, Della sat in her rocker, and I settled on the footstool in front of her. We held hands and lifted Alisha, Eric, Evan, and Ashley to the Lord. As we said amen, a car pulled up, its speakers booming bass vibrations out into the quiet neighborhood.

“They’re here.” Della hurried to the door as they tromped onto the porch.

“Hi, Gram,” Alisha said, hugging her grandma close. Then she stood back and looked into Della’s eyes.

“How are you?”

Della patted her cheek. “I’m fine, dear girl.”

The lovely blond stepped out of her siblings’ way.

“Hey Gram.” Seventeen year old Eric greeted Della, bending to kiss her cheek.

He was thin, but muscles rippled in his arms, and I knew one day he’d fill out his Jeff Gordon T-shirt. I noticed that his short fingernails had car grease under them. A boy after his dad’s own heart. He ran a nervous hand through his short blond hair, leaving it standing on end.

Della gathered two fourteen-year-olds in one big embrace, and I heard their muffled hellos. Blond hair, green eyes, and freckled noses peeked over her shoulder at me.

I shook their hands as Della introduced us. She went to get a snack, and we all stood around looking at each other.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Shoulders lifted in shrugs and one of the teens mumbled, “Sure.”

I handed them each a CD. “I bought these, and I need some people who know nothing about the artists to listen to them and give me their feedback. I’m writing an article about this kind of music and what kids think of it. Have you ever heard of any of these groups?”

Negative all around.

“Good. My contact information is on the back. You can call me with your thoughts. If I don’t hear from you in a week or so I’ll call you, if that’s all right?”

Heads bobbed.

“Come and get it,” Della called from the dining room.

We filed in, and instead of the cookies and milk we all expected, there were bowls of chips, dips, and M&M’s, and ice cold cans of pop. “Fill up a plate and go watch the video I rented for you.”

“What did you rent, Gramma?” Ashley asked with raised eyebrows.

“
A Walk to Remember.
Have you seen it?”

Four puzzled faces looked at each other before Alisha said, “Yeah, it was great.”

Evan said, “Gram, there might be what you’d consider some bad words and stuff in it.”

“I know. I watched it last night.”

“Huh?” Sixteen eyes grew wide.

“Go on now,” she shooed them with her hands to the other room. We heard the TV come on and cans popping open.

She must have noticed my raised eyebrows too. “The movie has good content. I’m sure most kids experiment with foul words. I hope they get the message in spite of the real life language and ‘stuff’. I’m sure they’ve seen and heard worse.”

“Della, you are the coolest.”

“Of course,” she replied and sat down with a sigh. “I just can’t get used to drinking out of a can.”

I got her a glass and ice. Before I left, Alisha and I decided to meet for a late lunch on her next day off.

On my way home, I stopped in at my mom and dad’s. A forest green Lexus sat out front. Stepping inside, I heard the familiar laugh of my friend, and then my mother’s voice saying, “More coffee, Eve?”

“Hello,” I called out.

“Come in, Jonica. You’re just in time. The coffee is fresh.” Mom hugged me, and I greeted Stacie and Eve.

“I just got the new update from the shelter,” Eve told me. “Your article generated several record-breaking donations. Thank you.”

“I’m glad. Maybe I can do a follow-up to let the public know their efforts matter.”

“That’s a great idea. Let me know how I can help.”

“We stopped by your house with this pie, but you weren’t home so we brought it here.” Stacie pointed to the center of the table where a French silk pie topped with pecans sat.

“Shoot,” I said under my breath. The chips and now this. I’d need to power walk twice as far in the morning.