Bridge to Haven (3 page)

She had. Marianne had always yearned for more children, but the doctor had warned them that her heart, damaged by childhood rheumatic fever, wasn’t strong enough to survive another pregnancy.

Zeke felt his resolve dissolving. “Marianne. Please. Stop.” It had taken months for her to recover after Joshua’s birth. Caring for another newborn would be far too taxing for her.

“We can be foster parents. Let’s bring her home as soon as we can. If it’s too much, then . . .” Her eyes grew moist. “Please, Zeke.”

Ten days later, Dr. Rubenstein signed the release forms for little Jane Doe and placed her in Marianne’s arms. “You’ll make fine foster parents.”

After the first three nights, Zeke started to worry. Marianne was up every two hours, feeding the baby. How long before her health suffered? Though she looked exhausted, she couldn’t have been happier. Sitting in a rocking chair, Marianne cradled the baby in her arms and fed her a bottle of warm milk. “She needs a real name, Zeke. A name full of promise and hope.”

“Abra means ‘mother of nations.’” He said it before he could stop himself.

Marianne laughed. “You wanted her all along, didn’t you? Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

How could he not? Still, he felt a jab of fear. “We’re foster parents, Marianne. Don’t forget that. If things become too much for you, we’ll call the caseworker. We’ll have to give Abra back.”

“Give her back to whom? The caseworker wants this to work. And I don’t think there’s anyone in town who’d take Abra away from us now. Do you?” Peter Matthews, a teacher at the local elementary school, and his wife, Priscilla, had expressed interest early on, but with an infant of their own, they had agreed Abra should stay with the Freemans if they were able to handle it.

Marianne set the empty bottle aside and raised the baby to her shoulder. “We’ll need to save money so we can add another bedroom. Abra won’t be a baby for long. She’ll be in a crib, then a regular bed. She’ll need a room of her own.”

There was no reasoning with her. All of Marianne’s motherly instincts had kicked in, but each day wore her down a little more. Catnapping throughout the day helped, but catching a few minutes of sleep here and there wouldn’t be enough to keep her healthy. She was already tousle-haired and ashen, with dark circles under her eyes. “You sleep in tomorrow morning. I’ll take her with me.”

“In the dark?”

“Plenty of streetlights, and I know the town like the back of my hand.”

“She’ll be cold.”

“I’ll bundle her up.” He folded a blanket into a triangle, plucked Abra from Marianne’s arms, tied it around his waist and neck, and straightened. “See? She’s snug as a bug in a rug.” And right next to his heart, where she’d been from the first moment he laid eyes on her.

Sometimes Abra fussed when he took her out for his early morning walks, and he would sing hymns to her. “‘I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses . . .’” She’d sleep for a while, and stir when Zeke stopped in at Eddie’s Diner or paused to talk with Dutch.

“Good of you to take on that little one. Isn’t she a cutie, with all that red hair.” Eddie ran a fingertip over Abra’s cheek.

Even hard-hearted Dutch smiled as he leaned out the window of his truck to peer at her. “Looks like a little angel.” He drew back. “Sharon and I always wanted kids.” He said it like it was another black mark against God. Sharon had passed away, and Zeke knew the man was grieving. When Abra’s tiny fingers grasped Dutch’s pinkie, he looked ready to cry. “Who’d leave a baby under a bridge, for heaven’s sake? Good thing you happened by.”

“It was no accident, me going there that morning.”

“How so?” Dutch’s engine rumbled in neutral.

“I felt impelled to go. God does that sometimes.”

Dutch looked pained. “Well, I won’t speculate. No question that little girl needed someone that morning or she’d be dead and buried by now.” Like Sharon, his eyes said.

“If you ever want to talk, Dutch, just call.”

“Better just give up on me.”

“Sharon didn’t. Why should I?”

As Abra grew, she slept longer between feedings, and Marianne got more sleep. Even so, Zeke didn’t give up carrying Abra on his walks. “I’ll keep at it until she sleeps through the night.” Getting up every morning before the alarm, he’d dress and peek into the children’s bedroom and find Abra wide-awake, waiting for him.

1941

Even the demands of an easy child could wear on someone, and Zeke saw the toll on Marianne.

When he came home one afternoon in June and found Marianne asleep on the couch while Abra, now four years old, dunked her doll up and down in the toilet bowl, he knew things were going to have to change. “You’re exhausted.”

“Abra can get into something faster than I can say, ‘Jack Sprat could eat no fat.’”

“You can’t go on like this, Marianne.”

Others in the congregation noticed how tired Marianne looked and voiced concern. Priscilla Matthews spoke to them one Sunday after services. Her husband had put up gates so their four-year-old, Penny, couldn’t escape the living room. “The whole room is one big playpen right now, Marianne. I gave up and packed away everything breakable. Why don’t you have Zeke bring Abra over a couple
afternoons a week? You can rest without worry or interruptions for a few hours.”

Marianne resisted, but Zeke insisted it was a perfect solution.

Zeke bought lumber, nails, tar paper, and shingles and started work on a bedroom off the back of the house. Nine-year-old Joshua sat on the boards, holding them steady while Zeke sawed. One of the parishioners added wiring for electricity. Another built a platform bed with pullout drawers and helped Zeke put in windows overlooking the backyard.

Though Zeke was less than enthusiastic about his son moving into a narrow, converted-back-porch bedroom, Joshua loved his “fort.” His best buddy, Davy Upton, came over to spend the night, but the quarters were so tight, Zeke ended up pitching a tent for them on the back lawn. When he came back inside, he slumped into his easy chair. “The fort is too small.”

Marianne smiled, Abra tucked close beside her in the easy chair, a book of Bible stories open. “I don’t hear Joshua complaining. Those boys sound happy as crows in a cornfield, Zeke.”

“For now.” If Joshua took after his father, and his uncles back in Iowa, he would outgrow the space before he reached high school.

Zeke turned on the radio and went through the mail. The radio had nothing but bad news. Hitler grew ever more ambitious. The insatiable führer continued sending planes west across the English Channel to bomb England while his troops stormed Russia’s borders to the east. Charles Lydickson, the town banker, said it was only a matter of time before America got involved. The Atlantic Ocean wasn’t any protection with all those roaming German U-boats eager to sink ships.

Zeke thanked God Joshua was only nine years old, and then felt guilty, knowing how many other fathers had sons who might soon be going off to war.

When Marianne finished reading the story of David and Goliath, she pressed Abra closer. The child was half-asleep, and Marianne looked too weary to rise. When she tried, Zeke came out of his seat. “Let me tuck her in tonight.” He lifted Abra away from Marianne’s side. The child melted against him, her head on his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth.

Pulling the covers up and snuggling them around her, he bowed his head. She made prayer hands, and he put his around hers. “Our Father, who art in heaven . . .” When they finished, he leaned down and kissed her. “Sleep tight.”

Before he could raise his head, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.” He said he loved her, too. He kissed each cheek and her forehead before he left the room.

Marianne looked wilted. He frowned. She shook her head, smiling faintly. “I’m fine, Zeke. Just tired. There’s nothing wrong with me that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

Zeke knew that wasn’t true when she started to rise and swayed slightly. He caught her up in his arms and carried her into their bedroom, then sat on the bed with her in his lap. “I’m calling the doctor.”

“You know what he’ll say.” She started to cry.

“We need to start making other plans.” He didn’t have the heart to say it any other way, but she knew what he meant.

“I’m not giving up Abra.”

“Marianne . . .”

“She needs me.”

“
I
need you.”

“You love her as much as I do, Zeke. How can you even think about giving her away?”

“We should never have brought her home.”

Zeke rocked his wife for a moment, then helped her remove her chenille robe and settled her in bed. He kissed her and turned out the light before closing the door.

He almost tripped over Abra, sitting cross-legged in the hallway, her teddy bear clutched against her chest, thumb in her mouth. He felt a jolt of misgiving. How much had she overheard?

He lifted her into his arms. “You’re supposed to be in bed, little one.” Tucking her in again, Zeke tapped her on the nose. “Stay under the covers this time.” He kissed her. “Go to sleep.”

Sinking into his chair in the living room, he put his head in his hands.
Did I misunderstand, Lord? Did I allow Marianne to sway me when You had another plan for Abra? You know how much I love them both. What do I do now, Lord? God, what do I do now?

Abra sat shivering in the front pew while Mommy practiced hymns at the piano, even though Daddy had turned on the furnace so the sanctuary would be warm for tomorrow’s service. Miss Mitzi said without the heater up and running properly, “the church smelled damp and moldy as a graveyard.” Abra told her she didn’t know what a graveyard smelled like, and Miss Mitzi said, “Well, don’t look at me like that, missy. Only way I’ll go is if I’m carried there in a pine box.”

Rain pelted the roof and windows. Daddy was going over sermon notes in the small office off the narthex. Joshua had gone off in his Boy Scouts uniform to sell Christmas trees on the town square. Christmas was less than three weeks away. Mommy had let Abra help make gingerbread cookies for shut-ins and set up the crèche on the mantel. Daddy and Joshua put up lights around the outside of the house. Abra liked going out the front gate after dinner and looking at the house all lit up.