The Atonement Child (39 page)

“You look good, Dynah. Real good,”
Joe had said in Mendocino.

Taking the towel away, she looked at the mirror again and studied herself. She had gained twenty-four pounds. It all seemed to sit in the front. She didn’t feel beautiful, but neither did she feel ugly. She was all curves now, no plains. Turning to the sink, she looked at the profile of her body. Shaking her head, she smiled sadly. Gone were the slender days of a virginal youth. She had stretch marks. Her body would never be the same. Perhaps if she had conceived this baby in marriage to someone she loved and who loved her, she would feel beautiful.

BELOVED, YOU ARE MINE. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL TO ME.

Was it the barest whisper she heard in the cloud-filled bathroom or remembered verses? She felt surrounded by love, engulfed in it, protected by it. Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that this child belonged to the Father.

I love You, too, Lord. You are life to me.

Life. What greater blessing was there for a woman than to take part in God’s creative power and bear a child for Him? She felt the baby move and smiled. Affirmation.

Joe. Joe was the only one who seemed to understand. And she was going to spend an evening with him.

Smiling, she picked up her hair dryer and began brushing her hair.

“You look lovely,” her grandmother said when she came downstairs.

Dynah smiled and thanked her. She had taken special care with her appearance. She hadn’t worn makeup in months but had put on a touch of blush and lipstick and some Shalimar perfume. “Joe’s coming over in a little while,” she said. “We’re going to go out for something to eat. Where’s Daddy?”

“He went to the movies,” her mother said.

Hannah studied her daughter. She was beautiful. There was a glow about her that hadn’t been there before, even when she had brought Ethan Turner home from the airport. “He didn’t want to be in the way of our meeting tonight. Pastor Dan’s coming over, you know.”

“I forgot. Did you want me to stay?”

“No, you go out, honey. You’ve been cooped up in this house for the last two weeks. It’ll be good for you to go out.”

There was an odd atmosphere in the room, a stillness that was disquieting. “Is everything all right?” Dynah said, looking between her mother and grandmother.

Hannah looked at her mother, unable to answer. She knew if she said one word, she’d start to cry. Dynah would know soon enough that her grandmother had terminal cancer.

Evie smiled. “Nothing for you to worry about, Dynah. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”

Dynah knew better. “I love you both,” she said, looking from one woman to the other. “And I love Daddy, too.”

Hannah nodded, understanding her daughter’s need to make a declaration. She wouldn’t be drawn into battle. She wouldn’t take sides.

Oh, Lord, I’ve made such a sorry mess of my life, and still You’ve blessed me with a daughter like Dynah.

It never ceased to amaze her and fill her with a sense of responsibility. How much more hurt could Dynah take? The rape had turned her life upside down. Divorce would shatter her.

Who was going to win the war she had declared? Certainly not her, nor Doug, who had withdrawn from the battlefield. Then who?

They’d argued again last night in the privacy of their bedroom. She knew she had baited Doug over and over again before her mother had come. She wanted to fight it out and have it done with, but he refused to follow her rules. She had suspended hostilities with her mother’s arrival. She could pretend for a little while longer.

Her mother hadn’t been fooled. After a quiet evening, she had excused herself early and gone upstairs to bed. “Mom knows something’s wrong,” Hannah remarked. Doug said nothing, but she could feel his anger. It filled her with a sick sense of satisfaction—and despair. “I suppose I could tell her. Maybe she’d understand.” It was just about over. A few more pushes would do it. “She already knows my sordid history, so it won’t come as too much of a surprise.”

She hadn’t reckoned with his stubborn will.

Doug stood up. “If you’re willing to throw twenty-seven years of our lives away, you file for a divorce,” he said, dark eyes hot and filled with pain. “You’ve always seen your life as half-empty instead of half-f. I’ll tell you something, Hannah. In all the years I’ve shared with you, I remember more of joy than sorrow. Those are the times that I’m holding on to with everything I’ve got in me. I love you, but if you’re not willing to fight for our marriage instead of trying to rip us apart, there’s not a lot I can do about trying to help you put things back together.”

“The only reason I’m still here is because God hasn’t released me. Yet.”

“Considering what He did for us, don’t expect Him to say you can quit!” He walked out of the room and went upstairs to bed.

She had spent the night on the couch, weeping and thinking about what he had said. She resented every word because she knew Doug was right. God wouldn’t release her from their marriage. It galled her, but Scripture was very clear. God hates divorce. “Love one another as I have loved you,” He said. Unconditionally. Sacrificially. Completely. Be willing to die for Doug.

The doorbell rang, bringing Hannah back to the present.

“That must be Joe,” Dynah said, giving a quick kiss to her grandmother. “We won’t be very late.”

Hannah got up and walked with her to the door. “I hope you and Joe have a good time,” she said, feeling bleak inside. “Get a jacket, honey. It’s supposed to get cool this evening.”

While Dynah went to the hall closet, Hannah opened the door. “Hi, Joe.”

“Mrs. Carey,” he said with a smile and nod of respect. “How are you?”

“We’re all fine.” What a laugh! She opened the door wide so he could come in, but Dynah came around her and went out the door instead. Hannah watched Joe’s expression as he looked at her daughter. Oh, my.

“We won’t be too late, Mom,” Dynah said, kissing her mother’s cheek. She smiled up at him as he put his hand beneath her elbow, giving her support as she went down the steps. Hannah watched them go down the stairs, then quietly, thoughtfully, closed the door.

“Thanks, Joe. I can’t see my feet anymore. Where are we going?”

“The Wharf.”

“I love the Wharf,” Dynah said, feeling the tension flowing from her as they walked to his car. Joe opened the door for her and helped her in. Shutting the door, he went around the front of the car. She was still fumbling with the seat belt when he slid in behind the wheel.

“Here. Let me.” Joe leaned across to loosen the buckle and slide more strap through it so it would fit around her. He grinned at her as he clicked it into place. “My, you’ve grown.”

She laughed. “By leaps and bounds.”

Joe drove up Ocean Avenue and turned onto Nineteenth Avenue. As they drove north, passing through the west end of Golden Gate Park, she asked him questions about his life in Berkeley and his progress with the Bible study.

“I’ll be finishing the courses in a few weeks,” Joe said, “and then I’m considering a break.”

“Will you be moving again?”

He glanced at her and saw she was troubled at the idea. “No. I’m going to stay in the Bay Area.” She didn’t say anything but sat pensively, looking out the window. Joe took the turn onto Highway 101. “Have you started Lamaze classes yet?”

“I started Monday evening. Mom went with me.”

“How long is your grandmother going to stay?”

“She never stays longer than a couple of days.”

He took the turn for the marina. “Your mom looked tired.”

“She slept on the couch last night.” She glanced at him. “I think she and Daddy are going to get a divorce.”

“People go through rough times, Dynah. Don’t give up on them yet.”

“The anger’s so thick it’s like a cloud around my mother.” She closed her eyes. “Oh, Joe, I don’t know how much I can tell you.” She didn’t want him to think less of her parents.

“Anything you tell me stops with me, and it won’t change how I feel about them or you.”

She was touched by his reassurance but thankful he didn’t press her.

Joe parked the car at Ghirardelli Square. “Walking’s supposed to be good for an expectant mother.” He took her hand as he helped her out. “And it’s a nice evening.”

They walked down the hill, turning away from the Maritime Museum and wandering by the sidewalk merchants selling jewelry and knickknacks. A crowd of tourists was waiting for a ride up the San Francisco hills on the famous trolley cars. She and Joe walked around them and down the hill toward the piers.

Joe drew her close as people walked toward them and around them. So many tourists. He wished he had taken her somewhere else, somewhere quiet, away from the confusion of high summer at Fisherman’s Wharf. He heard a dozen languages spoken by passersby, most armed with cameras. Maybe if he had taken Dynah someplace quiet she’d feel more like talking.

They stopped at the rails overlooking the small boats docked behind Alioto’s #8. Dynah touched his arm. “Thanks for bringing me here, Joe. I’ve always loved coming to the Wharf. It was so exciting to me as a child. The smells, the sounds, all the people from so many places around the world. I wanted to sit on a bench along the way and watch them, but Daddy doesn’t like crowds.” She laughed. “He’d usually plow a path for us to one of the restaurants. Once there, he’d ask for a table by the windows so I could look out. That was as close as he wanted to get to the multitude.”

Her smile dimmed as she looked down at the railing. She picked at the peeling white paint. “I don’t know what to do to help them, Joe. It’s my fault things are falling apart.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“In a way, it is. My pregnancy stirred up the past for them. And then I ran away, and that made everything worse for them.” She raised her head and looked at him bleakly. She knew she could trust him. He had given her wise counsel on other things. Maybe he could advise her now. “Mom had an abortion before she met Daddy. I’m not even sure they know I know. I don’t think Mom ever intended to tell me, but they got into this terrible argument a few months ago, and I overheard everything.”

“Was that before or after she took you to the clinic?”

She grimaced. “Before,” she said quietly.

Oh, Jesus, no wonder Dynah felt betrayed. What do I say, Lord? What a muddle we make of our lives.

“It was so hard for me to understand after all the things I remembered her saying against abortion,” Dynah said, “but I think she did it to appease Dad. He was so convinced it was the only way to deal with my pregnancy. And I wasn’t any help. I didn’t know what I felt or what to do. I agreed to go, and then I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Thank God.”

“Yes, thank God,” she said quietly, putting her hand over her unborn child. She stood silent for a long time, eyes closed. “Tell me what to do, Joe. Tell me how to help them.”

“Love ’em.”

“I do love them, but I have to do more than that.”

“If you step in the middle, you may be getting in God’s way.”

“What if they decide to get a divorce?”

“They may not.”

“What if they do?”

“They can always change their minds.” He brushed a tear from her cheek. “You’re borrowing trouble, Dynah. You’re worrying about what might happen. Deal with now.”

“It’s so hard to watch what they’re doing to each other.”

“Emotions are powerful, but they also change as quick as the wind. That’s why the Lord says to renew your mind. Don’t base decisions on what you feel. Your parents know the Lord. From what you’ve told me about them, they’ve been in the Word a long time. They’ll remember. If they don’t, let God remind them.”

“I’d like to spare them the pain.”

“Pain has its own rewards. It keeps you out of the fire.” He took her hand. “Come on. Let’s walk a little.”

Around the corner was a covered walkway lined with seafood merchants. Red boiled Dungeness crabs lay arranged on tables of cracked ice. Glass cases held displays of crabmeat in small red-and-white cardboard bowls. Sourdough French bread was bagged and stacked high on the counters.

A man carrying a round of French bread filled with clam chowder bumped Dynah. He apologized and moved on. Joe moved in front of her to keep her from getting jarred again.

“That smelled so good.”

“I’m taking you someplace swanky, not buying you a piece of bread with soup in it.”

“We’ll have to wait an hour or more to get a table, Joe, and then wait thirty minutes more to get our food.”

Looking back at her, Joe grinned. “Are you trying to tell me you’re hungry?”

She grinned back. “I’m starving.”

He bought a sourdough round filled with clam chowder for each of them.
“Bon appetit,”
he said dryly, but he enjoyed watching her savor every bite.

The sun went down, and the breeze off the bay turned chilly. The stars were out by the time they returned to Ghirardelli Square. Joe was in no hurry to take Dynah home, and she didn’t appear in any great hurry to return. They talked of all manner of things—all except the baby and Dynah’s plans for it.

A string quartet was playing in the courtyard. They sat at a small round table near the brick wall. Joe ordered espresso, Dynah decaf and a piece of German chocolate cake. He leaned his elbows on the table and watched her. She made a science of eating dessert. One small bite at a time. At the rate she was going, they’d take up residence before she finished the hefty slice. He grinned. “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy a piece of cake the way you do.”