The Atonement Child (25 page)

“I heard about that woman in Los Angeles,” she said softly. “One of the girls in the sorority house gave me her name. I was going to go to her, but Jerry found a doctor just outside Reno. I guess I should be thankful.”

Jim didn’t say anything. He just reached over and took her hand.

It was enough.

“One of my friends drove me to the doctor’s house. As soon as she left, he drove me out into the desert. I thought he was going to do it there at his house, but he said no. The Catholic church had people watching him, and he said he needed to be careful. I don’t remember how long he drove. An hour, maybe more. It seemed like forever. We were way out in the desert. I didn’t have any idea where I was, but I didn’t care. I just wanted it over.”

She looked down, not saying anything for a moment, pressing the pain down so she could tell him the rest. “There was a garbage dump with a high fence. He had a trailer parked there, all set up like a hospital examining room. The table with stirrups, instruments, everything. It was clean.”

He squeezed her hand. “You were lucky.”

She raised her head. “Was I?”

Jim looked into her tear-washed eyes and saw her anguish. For a moment it was as though he shared a measure of the bitter brew—and felt poisoned.

She smiled sadly. “Everything was done properly. The right equipment, a sterile environment. Just like you were saying to Dynah. But it wasn’t all right, Jim.”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t have children. When Doug and I got married, I wanted a baby more than anything, maybe to atone for what I’d done. Or just because it was always a part of what I wanted. Every time I got pregnant, I miscarried. My gynecologist said it was because of the abortion. Dynah was a miracle.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “You told my daughter everything would be fine in a few days. Maybe, God willing, that’s the way it’ll be. But you know what, Jim? There’s more to it than the physical part. It’s been twenty-nine years, and I’m still not over it.”

Jim felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t speak. He looked into Hannah’s eyes and knew he had seen that same despair in countless other women.

She drew back slightly, withdrawing her hand from his and digging in her purse for a Kleenex. “Sorry,” she muttered.

He started to say something, but just then the waitress approached. “The young lady asked me to give you this.” She handed the note to Hannah and left.

Hannah opened it quickly and read. She sighed heavily. “Dynah went home by taxi. She says she’s fine and not to worry.” Folding it, she held it tightly in her hand. “She’s always concerned about everyone else. Even now.” She shook her head, struggling to contain her emotions. She looked up at him, eyes fierce. “I don’t want my daughter to go through what I did, Jim.”

“I swear she won’t.”

“How can you swear that?”

“I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing. You’re going to have to trust me.”

What else could she do? “I’d sooner trust you than anyone else, I guess. I know how much you care. I remember how you used to spend your weekends volunteering at the local hospital.”

“I swore I’d never let another girl end up like Carolyn if it was within my power to help.” Since that 1973 decision, helping had been made easy.

She studied him, sensing something behind the vehemence. And it occurred to her what it might be. “Did you know Carolyn was pregnant?”

He pushed his coffee cup away. “Yes.”

“She asked for your help, didn’t she?”

He looked at her, guilt-ridden, unable to answer. Carolyn had come to him, desperate and pleading. He worked in a hospital. He had access to tools and drugs. He knew anatomy. He was her brother! He had to help her!

And still he refused.

They’d argued. She’d accused him of being judgmental and self-righteous. He’d told her she was selfish and hedonistic. She should have thought of the consequences
before
she started screwing around. He was tired of being big brother and fishing her out of the soup she made. He wasn’t going to jeopardize his future by performing an illegal abortion or helping convince some doctor it was psychologically necessary. It was time she grew up!

Instead, Carolyn died.

A part of him had gone down into the grave with his sister. What was left had been trying to purge the guilt ever since.

When abortion became legal, he lost all his excuses for not getting involved, not helping others like Carolyn. He discussed it with Cynthia, half-hoping she would support him in anything he decided. She understood his feelings. She applauded his compassion. And the money was good. It seemed a God-sent gift to get them out from under the huge debts he’d accumulated from medical school and internship and residency. They could have a nice home where the children could grow up in safety.

Oh, God! Is any place safe anymore?

Hannah saw the torment written on his face and was sorry she’d opened old wounds. “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said, wishing the pain weren’t so fresh. “Let’s get back to Dynah. You know, she might feel easier about the procedure if I performed it in a hospital setting. What do you think?”

“Possibly.”

“General, for example. They have all the necessary equipment. They handle abortions all the time.”

“A hospital will be more expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll write it up so insurance handles the cost.”

The mailman hailed Dynah as she was walking up the front steps. She turned and smiled in greeting, accepting the bundle of mail he gave her. He tipped his cap and wished her a nice day before heading down the walkway again.

Slipping the rubber band off, she flipped through the envelopes, half-hoping Ethan had written her. She found a letter addressed to her with no return address. It wasn’t from Ethan.

Unlocking the door, she put the mail on the table in the entry hall and tore open the envelope. It was a brief note from Joe. He wanted to know how she was doing. Did she know she could call him anytime? He cared about her. He was making plans to come west right after graduation and hoped she wouldn’t mind his looking her up.
Hang around June 15. I’ll be on your doorstep.
He was praying for her.

She tucked the note back into its envelope. Joe hadn’t mentioned Ethan. She couldn’t help wondering at the oversight. But then, Ethan and Joe were best friends. She wondered if Ethan was picking up his life and dating again. Girls were always around him. Easy pickings. Lots of picture-perfect virgin girls looking for a good, godly husband.

It hurt too much to think of all the possibilities. Someday he would marry someone pretty, unsoiled, and supportive. Someone he could mold into the wife he wanted.

And what about me, Lord? What kind of future am I going to have?

“Dynah?”

Startled, she glanced up. “Grandma!” Smiling through her tears, she went into her grandmother’s arms. She had noticed a car out front when the taxi pulled up but hadn’t bothered to give it more than a cursory glance. Had she done so, she would have noticed the Oregon license plates and known.

“I got here about an hour ago. Good thing your mother gave me a key last year, or I would’ve had to hunt up a restroom at a gas station.”

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course, I’d come. The minute I heard you were home and why, nothing could keep me away.”

Dynah withdrew and looked at her, heat flooding her cheeks. “Mom called you?”

“Actually, I called her. I knew something was wrong and pressed her.” Evie touched her granddaughter’s cheek, seeing more than the child wanted to reveal. “It will be all right. That’s why I came.”

Grandma, come to save the day. Dynah could feel trouble coming from all directions.

She smiled wanly. “She shouldn’t have told you.”

“Why not? Family should hold together at a time like this.” She put her arm around Dynah’s waist. “Let’s talk in the family room. I just started a pot of coffee. Have you eaten?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“I can mix up some tuna for a sandwich. You’ve always liked my tuna. Or is your stomach queasy?”

“A little.”

“Your mom always keeps chicken soup on hand. I’ll fix some of that instead. Why don’t you sit at the breakfast table, and we’ll talk while I get things together. Where’s your mom?”

“We ran into an old friend of hers. They’re having coffee together.” They were probably talking about what they were going to do about
her
problem. She sat down and stared at the envelope between her hands. She should write a note back to Joe and tell him that everything was fine and he needn’t worry. If she called and told him so, he’d know she was lying. She didn’t want word getting back to Ethan that her life was in ashes.

“Is the letter from Ethan?”

“No.” Her throat tightened. “Just a friend.” She forced a smile, trying to achieve an atmosphere of normalcy. “So how’s everything in Oregon, Grandma? Are you and Gladys still chumming around together?”

Evie closed the pantry door, a can of Campbell’s soup in her hand. “We keep tabs on each other. As a matter of fact, I called her just before you got home. She was already thinking I’d died in a rest stop or been hijacked somewhere. She can be an old worrywart at times.” She opened a cabinet and then another until she found the mugs and silverware. “Your mom’s been reorganizing again.”

“She takes after you.” Dynah listened to the whir of the electric can opener. “Are you still involved in your church?”

“President of the women’s club,” she said, pouring the chicken soup into a bowl and adding tap water. “It’s the last time I’m going to do it.” She stirred the soup, put the bowl into the microwave, and tapped in three minutes.

“That’s what you said a few years back.”

“I mean it this time. They need new blood. I’ve run out of juice.”
And time.

Dynah looked at her, studying her intently. Grandma was like a sprite, always moving, always finding something to do. A bundle of energy. Obsessively organized. Dynah adored her. She watched now as her grandmother drummed her fingers on the counter, waiting for the microwave to shut off. She looked older, a little thinner, more gray in her hair.

“Are you feeling all right, Grandma?”

Evie cast her a quick glance, surprised by the question. She’d forgotten how intuitive Dynah was. She noticed people, cared about them. “I’m fine.”
Ping
. She opened the microwave and took out the steaming mug of soup. “If you discount the arthritis, rheumatism, constipation, fading eyesight, and ingrown toenails, I’m in the pink of health.”

Dynah laughed.

Evie set the mug down in front of Dynah and took a seat.

“Drink your soup.” She patted her hand. “You have to take good care of yourself, Dynah. You have someone else to think about now.”

Hannah saw her mother’s car the moment she pulled into the driveway. Torn between relief and frustration, she punched the garage door opener and drove into the carport. She came in through the kitchen and saw her mother rinsing dishes. “Where’s Dynah?”

“She went upstairs to take a nap.” Her mother put a mug into the dishwasher. “She looks worn out.”

“And no wonder.” Hannah set her purse on the counter and put her arms around her mother, hugging her close. “Oh, Mom,” she sighed. “I’m glad you came.”

Evie held her daughter close, rubbing her back. She’d seen the shadows under her eyes the moment Hannah came in the door. She always had a bruised look when things weren’t going well. It was a good bet Hannah wasn’t sleeping. “What time does Doug come home?”

“Around six.” Hannah let go of her mother slowly. “How about a glass of wine?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

Hannah took two glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of chilled Oregon blackberry wine from the back of the refrigerator. She caught her mother’s smile. “Yes, it’s the same bottle you brought down at Christmas. I’ve been hoarding it.”

“I should’ve thought to bring a couple more.”

“Do you want to turn me into a lush?”

“I doubt there’s much chance of that.”

They went into the family room. Hannah set her glass down and turned on the gas fireplace. There was nothing like flickering firelight to give one the feeling of home. And right now, she was desperate for any kind of comfort. “Have you unpacked?”