The Atonement Child (32 page)

“My daddy’s a doctor,” Cricket piped up, “but he’s not home now. He will—”

“Go to your room, Patricia.”

“—be here in—”

“
Now
, Patricia.”

Patricia’s lower lip protruded, but she obeyed.

Cynthia Wyatt looked at her, and Dynah smiled. She felt so tired, and she could feel perspiration dotting her forehead. “My name’s Dynah Carey. I met Dr. Wyatt at . . .” She hesitated, unsure whether this lady would know her husband worked in an abortion clinic. If not, Dynah didn’t feel it her place to inform her. “. . . in San Francisco. He and my mother went to college together.”

The woman hesitated, clearly unsure what to do.

“Will he be home soon?” Dynah asked, faced with the lady’s reticence. She seemed uneasy. Knowing the fire that abortionists had come under in the last few years, Dynah wondered if there wasn’t good reason for Mrs. Wyatt’s caution.

“What business have you with Dr. Wyatt?”

“None, really. I just wanted to talk to him for a few minutes.”

“He’s not here right now, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

Dynah stood perplexed. “Well, thank you anyway.” She turned away.
Lord, why did You bring me here?

Cynthia watched as the young woman turned away. She had looked so sad . . . and ill. She knew she was being less than welcoming, but with the threats James had been receiving, who could blame her? Still, the girl didn’t seem at all threatening. . . .

“Wait,” she said on impulse, opening the door wider. “Don’t go. Come in and sit down.” Despite what she’d said earlier, she knew Jim should be home soon. He’d called her a few minutes ago to tell her he was on his way. Hopefully the girl’s business with him wouldn’t take long. As she turned and came back to the door, the rottweiler barked twice, taking a stance to prevent entrance to the house. “Arnold, release!” The dog relaxed but remained watchful as he circled the young woman when she entered the foyer. He sniffed at her skirt. When she extended her hand, Cynthia started to warn her not to touch him, but before she could speak, the young woman bent slightly and began scratching him behind the ears. Arnold’s stub tail wagged, and he moved closer.

“Arnold doesn’t usually take to people,” Cynthia said, surprised that he was treating this young lady like a member of the family.

“I like animals. I think they sense that.”

“So it seems,” Cynthia said, smiling, all her anxieties evaporating. “Why don’t you come into the family room? Would you like something to drink? A cup of herbal tea?”

“A glass of water, please,” Dynah said, looking around her at the lovely surroundings. The living room revealed a couch, a love seat, and two high-backed wing chairs that made a comfortable grouping around a large polished mahogany coffee table with a flower arrangement. A baby grand piano stood near a wall of plate-glass windows, a large potted palm to the left. The drapes were a gorgeous, deep-rose-and-green paisley with hints of gold. Everything looked new and had the stamp of professional decorating.

The family room was another matter. The room was furnished with an overstuffed, slightly worn sofa with four needlepoint pillows and a crocheted afghan. Nearby was a recliner. Beside it was a table piled high with medical journals. One wall was covered with family pictures. Another was all bookcases and cabinets. A television was mounted in the center. Big Bird was singing with Cookie Monster. On the floor in the middle of the room was a large circle of denim strewn with LEGOs.

“Arnold, place,” Cynthia commanded.

The rottweiler trotted over and lay down near the cabinets. Lowering his head to his paws, he watched Dynah.

“Sit down, please,” Cynthia said, going over to the sliding doors to the backyard. “Todd, come inside and clean up your LEGOs!”

“I’m swimming!”

“Dry off and put your things away. Then you can get back in your wading pool.” She left the door open as she turned. “Make yourself comfortable, Miss Carey.”

“Please call me Dynah.”

“Only if you call me Cynthia.” She felt drawn to the girl. Entering the kitchen, she opened a cabinet and took down a glass. “Would you like ice?”

“No, thank you.” Dynah sat on the sofa.

Just then Cynthia’s son, Todd, came in, wet hair plastered to his head, a towel wrapped around him. Disgruntled as only a young boy can be, he marched across the family room, leaving wet footprints on the carpet. Taking hold of the knotted ends of two strings, he lifted the circle of denim. With a crash of plastic pieces, it swallowed the LEGOs and hung like an oversize purse on his arm. He dragged it to the cabinets, opened one, and shoved the plump denim pouch inside. A portion hung out. Nudging it in with his foot, Todd pushed the door closed. Without a glance in either his mother’s or their guest’s direction, he ran back outside again, forgetting to close the sliding screen door behind him.

Cynthia laughed and shook her head. “That was Todd.” She handed the glass of water to Dynah. “You look pale. Are you feeling all right?”

“I have a headache.”

“Would you like something for it?”

“I don’t know if I should take anything,” Dynah said, putting her hands over the bulge of her abdomen.

Cynthia understood the protective gesture. “I’ll get you a cool cloth.”

Surprise and simple gratitude touched the young woman’s features. Dynah thanked Cynthia quietly as she went to get the cloth. When she returned to the room, Cynthia saw that the girl had finished the water and set the glass carefully on the side table. Cynthia brought the damp cloth to her, watching as Dynah dabbed her forehead and held the cloth over her eyes. “I’m sorry to be a bother,” she said in a faint voice.

“No bother.”

“I shouldn’t stay long,” she said, looking up at Cynthia again, uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m on my way home.”

“Jim should be here soon,” Cynthia said. “Why don’t you lie down and rest until he gets here?” The young lady looked tired, so terribly tired. “I need to start dinner anyway.” Hunkering down, she untied the girl’s ankle boots and helped her slip them off. She noticed how swollen her feet and ankles were, so swollen she doubted the girl would be able to put her boots back on again. “Lie down now,” she said gently, taking a pillow and putting it beneath Dynah’s feet to elevate them as much as possible. Taking up the afghan, she draped it over the girl. “Try to sleep if you can.” On impulse, she stroked the damp strands of blonde hair back from the girl’s forehead.

“You’re very kind to strangers,” Dynah said softly.

“Not usually,” Cynthia responded frankly. In fact, under normal circumstances the door would not have been opened, let alone anyone invited into the house. Jim said looks could be deceiving, and he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Mommy!” Patricia called. “Can I come out now?”

Cynthia went down the hallway and shushed her. “Yes, you may come out, but the young lady is resting on the sofa. I want you to play outside. Take Arnold with you.”

I hope you get home soon, Jim,
she thought as she watched her daughter skip away.
And I hope you can help that poor girl.

Jim pulled into the garage and punched the remote, closing the door behind him. As he came in the side door, Cynthia met him. She kissed him in greeting and took his medical bag. “You look tired.”

“I am.” He could feel himself sinking into his Wednesday depression. “I’ll take a shower and be down in a while.”

“We have company.”

“Who?” He didn’t feel like entertaining anyone for any reason.

“Dynah Carey.”

“Dynah Carey?” The name sounded familiar, though he couldn’t place it.

“She said she met you in San Francisco. Her mother went to college with you.”

He remembered and dread filled him. Was she here to ask him to perform a late-term abortion?

“What’s the matter, Jim?”

“Nothing.” He’d do it if the girl asked. Considering the circumstances of her pregnancy, how could he refuse? He would arrange to perform it at the hospital. It would be safer there.

Entering the family room, he saw Dynah Carey asleep on his sofa, his dog, Arnold, lying in guard close by, his children playing quiet games in the middle of the room. They came to him in greeting. “Dynah’s sleeping,” Cricket whispered, a finger to her lips. Even Todd was cooperative.

“Her ankles are swollen,” Cynthia whispered, “and she was perspiring.”

“Did she complain of cramping?” Maybe she’d be lucky and miscarry.

“No, but she had a headache.”

“Did you give her anything?”

“I offered, but she said she wasn’t sure she should take anything. I think she’s worried about her baby.”

Frowning, he nodded. If she was worried about her baby, why had she come to him? He approached the girl as Cynthia told the children to play in their rooms for a while so Daddy could talk to the young lady. Leaning down, he put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Dynah?”

She roused. Opening her eyes, she focused on his face. “Oh,” she said groggily, pushing herself up. She was so tired. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“That’s all right. What can I do for you?” The sooner she was on her way, the better he would feel about it.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to think clearly. She had just had the strangest, strongest dream. Raising her head, she looked at him again, sensing his impatience. Clearly, he wished she wasn’t there.

“I know I’m intruding, Dr. Wyatt, but I have to talk with you.”

“About what?”

“Me.”

Frowning, he waited, tense. “How’d you find out where I lived?”

“C. Wyatt. The address was in the telephone book.”

Odd. He knew they weren’t listed, but why would the girl lie? Glancing at Cynthia, he saw her shrug. She was as perplexed as he.

Closing her eyes, Dynah prayed.
Lord, I need to know if this is You working here. Say through me whatever You have to say to this man. Then let me go. Let me get out of this place and away from this man. My mom and dad are waiting.

Watching her face, Jim pulled the hassock close and sat down in front of her. “Are you in pain?”

She opened her eyes. Like his wife, he was concerned. She saw it in his eyes just as she had the first time she met him. “No. Not the way you mean.” She studied his face for a moment and, with startling clarity, she knew what she had to say. Would he listen? Would he heed? Would he submit to the word of the Lord? Or would he think she was crazy?

It didn’t matter. She knew only one thing: she had to obey God, even when He didn’t seem to make sense.

“Dr. Wyatt, you said you began doing what you do because of what happened to your sister.” She saw the anguish fill his eyes. She saw, too, how his wife moved closer in quick defense, a look of horrified pain filling her face. They were both expecting an attack.

“Miss Carey,” Cynthia said stiffly, hoping to stop her.

Dynah reached out impulsively and took Jim Wyatt’s hands. “Think of me as your sister. James Michael Wyatt, brother of Carolyn Cosma Wyatt, the Lord forgives you. The Lord loves you.”

“How did you know her full name? How did you know?”

Her eyes widened, startled and yet filled with understanding. “I didn’t know. God did.”

Gooseflesh rose over Jim’s entire body, pricking the hair to the top of his head. He felt a presence he couldn’t deny. Dynah Carey’s hands were warm and strong, and there was a light in her eyes that offered the promise of hope. How long had it been since he had felt hope about anything?

Her hands tightened. “
Please
. I think God sent me here to tell you He wants you to turn back to Him. He wants you to be the doctor He meant you to be. I believe you want to help women. And so I’m asking you. I’m pleading. Help me. Please, Dr. Wyatt. Help me have this baby.”

Pierced, he couldn’t breathe.

The message delivered, her appeal made, Dynah felt at peace. She saw in Jim Wyatt’s eyes that God’s plea had been received, and joy grew inside her until she felt filled with it. “‘He has removed our rebellious acts as far away from us as the east is from the west,’” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said softly.
Oh, God, yes! Please!
came the anguished cry within him. And in that instant, James Michael Wyatt felt the burden of years of sin lift, like a dense fog evaporating.