Bridge to Haven (20 page)

CHAPTER 6

Be careful what you wish for.

You might just get it.

KING MIDAS

J
OSHUA
DROVE
through the night to San Francisco. He found a gas station and filled his tank, trying to think what to do next. Should he start looking in the maze of streets that laced the hillsides? He didn’t know where to begin, how to find her. Would Dylan have taken her to a fancy hotel or a cheap motel? Would he have kept driving? Doubtful. He’d have wanted to take what he was after as soon as possible. But then what? Leave Abra somewhere on her own? Take her with him to wherever he intended to go next?

Dawn came and Joshua parked along the beach. He stared at the endless ocean, the waves lapping the shore. People came out and strolled, a few with dogs. Joshua put his head against the steering wheel. “Lord, please, make her call home.” Defeated, he started the engine and headed back to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Abra filled her lungs and breathed out all her expectations and dreams. Her tears dried. She cautiously eased out of bed, went into
the bathroom, and locked the door. Hands shaking, she turned on the shower. She stepped under the stream and turned up the heat gradually until her skin reddened like a boiled lobster. The room filled so thick with steam, she breathed in liquid air. She washed thoroughly and still felt dirty.

Dylan awakened when she got back into bed. “Hmmmm, you smell so good.” He wanted her again. She didn’t dare say no. Even if she had, would he have listened? When he finished, she pulled the blanket over herself and curled into the fetal position.

Abra,
an inner voice whispered.
Get up. Go downstairs and call home.

I can’t.

Call Pastor Zeke.

She pressed the heels of her hands against her ears.

You’re just a child.

Not anymore. Peter and Priscilla would be too ashamed of her to look at her, let alone speak to her. Penny would spread it all over school that she’d run away with Dylan, spent one night in a hotel, and come home with her tail between her legs like a whipped puppy. Pastor Zeke would tell her she was bound for hell. And Joshua . . . Oh, what would Joshua say to her? She shuddered at the thought of facing him.

Call—

She closed her ears to the voice.
I can’t go home. I don’t have a home anymore. Wherever Dylan goes, I go.

Exhaustion finally took over. She dreamed she was a baby again, so weak, she couldn’t raise herself, with barely enough strength to cry. A man stood on the bridge above her. Hope came and she raised her hand, fingers spread, beseeching. She wanted to call out, but she had no voice. He leaned forward, looking over the rail, but a beast with dark wings approached her. All Abra could see now was the great, dark shape looming over her. It had burning red eyes and a bright-white mocking smile.

Dad opened the back door when Joshua came up the steps. He didn’t have to ask if Joshua had had any luck. Joshua went into the living room and sank onto the couch. “I didn’t even know where to start looking.”

“She’s in God’s hands, Son.”

“She’s in Dylan Stark’s hands, Dad!” Anger surged. “He’ll break her to pieces.” He felt like he was choking on rage. “If he hasn’t already.”

“Maybe that’s what it’s going to take to reach her.”

Joshua stared at him. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t like the idea any better than you do, Son, but love and kindness and reason haven’t moved her. She’s closed her heart to everyone, except this boy.”

“He’s not a boy. He’s a son of a—!”

“If you oppose her, she’ll feel like a martyr.”

Joshua came to his feet. “Then tell me what to do!”

“You’ve done all you can do. That’s what I’m telling you. It’s time to let her go.”

“Give up on her?” Joshua’s voice came out ragged, broken.

“Letting go isn’t giving up. It’s trusting God to do whatever He has to do. Remember what you know to be true. God loves her more than you do. He loves her more than I do or Peter and Priscilla, more than all of us put together.” He sighed. “Sometimes God has to destroy in order to save. He has to wound in order to heal.”

“Destroy? Wound? I can’t let that happen.”

“It’s already happening, Joshua. It’s not your choice. It’s hers. All you can do is trust in God’s unfailing love.”

“I have to
do something
, or go crazy.” Joshua sank onto the couch again, covered his head, and wept.

He felt his father’s hand firm on his shoulder. “We will do something.” His hand tightened. “We’ll pray for her.”

Abra awakened when Dylan pulled the covers from her. “Come on, baby. Get up.” They ate breakfast in the room, and Dylan had her wait outside while he checked out. He said they’d stay another night or two in San Francisco in a hotel near North Beach. It wouldn’t be as grand, but all they really needed was a bed, right?

He drove her to Fisherman’s Wharf. He talked about the last time he’d been in the city with fraternity friends. When he said they’d had fun, she knew he meant with girls. She liked the smell of the sea. Dylan bought fresh crab in a small cup. “Open up, little bird.” He forked it into her mouth. He said he wanted to buy her something as a souvenir and decided on an inexpensive pink zip-up sweatshirt with
Fisherman’s Wharf
printed on it. Pink was Penny’s favorite color.

“Rumor has it Joe and Marilyn will get hitched soon. They live someplace around here. If we’re lucky, we might run into them.”

“Are you telling me you know them?”

“I’ve met Marilyn.” He grinned at her openmouthed surprise. “She’s been to my house. My mother knows everyone in Hollywood.”

“Is your mother an actress, too?” She’d never heard of Lilith Stark.

“She’s a columnist. She makes and breaks actresses. She throws the best parties in the industry. Anybody who wants to be somebody comes. She knows all the dirt people try to hide. Everybody wants to be on her good side. When she says come, they ask when.” He smiled sardonically. “Marilyn may come off like a witless blonde, but she’s smarter than she looks.”

Dylan took her to dinner in Chinatown, and then to a nightclub in North Beach. “I’ve got a whole new world to show you.” The man at the door took one look at her and shook his head. Dylan leaned
forward and spoke in the man’s ear as he slipped some money into his hand. He stepped aside and let them enter.

It was dark and smoky inside. Abra’s mouth fell open when she spotted two naked girls gyrating on a small stage. The place was packed with people, mostly men. Dylan pulled Abra along behind him until he found a place for them to sit. Men looked at her. She felt her skin crawl. A topless waitress came to take their order, and Abra quickly looked down at the table. Dylan ordered and leaned back in his seat to watch the show.

“Can we go?” Abra pleaded, mortified.

“Quit acting like a Sunday school girl. Watch the act.” He caught her by the chin and turned her head toward the stage. “You might learn something.” When Dylan got up, she panicked. He leaned close. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” She watched him weave his way between the tables and speak to a man on the other side of the room. The man took something from his pocket and handed it to Dylan. Dylan handed something back. Abra didn’t breathe easily until Dylan returned to the chair beside her. He winked at her. “Did you think I was leaving you already?”

The topless waitress returned with a tray of drinks. Dylan took one and handed it to Abra. “Drink up.” She obeyed and felt the kick as soon as she swallowed. Her stomach grew warm. He took a small envelope from his pocket and removed a pill. “Take this. You’ve been uptight all day. This will help you relax.” She did as he said to please him. When he nodded at her drink, she took another swallow.

Abra did relax. The rhythmic beat of drums pounded through her blood. Dylan pulled her up and danced with her. When he took his hands away, she didn’t stop. She felt exhilarated, just moving to the music. Men shouted encouragement. Colored lights were in her face. She closed her eyes and turned around, arms in the air, body moving to the beat. The noise grew louder. She heard angry shouts,
a commotion, but didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about anything but the music, the movement.

Someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her. She stumbled down steps. Had she been on a stage? “Come on.” A woman half dragged her into a dimly lit hallway. Abra stumbled and bumped into a wall. The woman slapped her face lightly, once, twice. “Snap out of it, honey. What’d that devil give you?”

Abra heard Dylan. The woman cried out. He grabbed Abra. The woman protested, and he called her a foul name and told her to mind her own business. Wobbling, Abra kept walking, running her hand along the wall to find her way. Everything was blurry. Dylan caught up with her and put a firm arm around her waist. “Let’s go.” He opened a door at the end of the hall. The air was cold, the sky dark, so dark. She swayed, everything going black.

Awakening with a pounding headache, Abra heard a shower running. She hurt all over, inside and out. Where was she? She didn’t remember this room. It had one old dresser, a mirror, a worn chintz chair by a curtained window, and a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on the wall.

Dylan came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and using another to dry his hair. “What a night!” He grinned at her like a feral cat ready to pounce on a mouse. “You made a splash last night.”

“What happened?”

“What didn’t?” He laughed at her. “You went wild!”