Bridge to Haven (6 page)

“I’m sorry I was so selfish, Marianne. I’m sorry I let you talk me into taking Abra home, even when we knew adoption was out of the question because of your health. I gave in because I knew how much you wanted another child.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. That’s not true. I gave in because I loved her, too.” He couldn’t speak for a moment.

“I work all day, every day, Marianne. You know the demands of ministry. And I’m failing on all sides. I failed to protect you. I’m failing as a father. I’m failing as a pastor. I’m so caught up in my own grief, I feel crushed beneath the burdens of others.” He gave a bleak laugh. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times to those going through crises, but if one more person tells me all things work together for good, I’ll . . .”

His throat felt tight. “Abra’s only five. She needs a mother. She needs a father who doesn’t get called out in the middle of the night when someone has a crisis.”

There was no easy way around it. Zeke put his hand on the mound of earth. “I’m going to talk to Peter and Priscilla today about adopting Abra. You know they wanted her right from the start, and ever since you’ve been gone, they have offered to help in any way they can. I know they would love to welcome her into their family.”

Zeke blinked back tears, looking off into the distance. “Mrs. Welch isn’t sure it’s going to work. She thinks Abra would have an easier time adjusting in a new place. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want her close, not off somewhere in another town with complete strangers.”

Was he making another decision he would regret? Not that he would ever regret the five years they’d had Abra. Marianne had been so happy. “Oh, Marianne, you know how much I love her. It’s killing me to give her up. I hope I’m doing the right thing.” He sat, his whole body convulsed in sobs. “She won’t understand.” He wiped his face. He let the tears flow. “Forgive me. Please. Forgive me.”

If Mrs. Welch changed her mind, Abra would be taken from him in a less gentle manner and placed elsewhere. He wouldn’t know where she was. He wouldn’t be able to see her grow up.

Zeke walked down to the main road. A Gruening’s Market truck pulled over and idled at the entrance. Dutch lowered his window and waited for him. “How you doing, Pastor?”

“Holding on.” Barely.

“I know what you mean. Get in. I’ll give you a ride back into town.”

Zeke stepped up and climbed into the passenger seat. “Thanks.”

Dutch put the truck in gear and his foot on the gas. “I used to sit by Sharon’s grave and talk to her—every day for a couple of weeks, then every couple of days, then once a week. Now, I go on her birthday and our anniversary. She would’ve wanted me to go on living.” He cast a glance at Zeke. “Took me a while to realize she’s not there. Well, she is. But she isn’t. You told me. I didn’t believe it.” He muttered a low curse. “I’m trying to make you feel better and doing a pathetic job of it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Dutch smiled slightly. “You told me once there are no tears in heaven.” He stared straight ahead at the road. “Well, we have plenty down here, don’t we? I know it hurts like the dickens right now.” He downshifted and slowed. “You’ll wade through the pain and climb out the other side.” Pulling over, he stopped at the corner. “Just like I did.”

Zeke held out his hand. “Thanks, Dutch.” The man had a firm grip.

Zeke slid out of the cab of the truck.

“What do you say to a cup of coffee sometime?”

Zeke looked back at Dutch. After all these years, was the door finally opening?

Dutch looked sheepish. “I’ve got a lot of questions. Sharon probably told me the answers, but whenever she started talking religion, I closed my ears.”

“How about Bessie’s Corner Café tomorrow morning when you finish work? Around seven fifteen?”

“Yep. See you there.” Dutch raised his hand, put the truck in gear, and turned right.

Zeke smiled slightly as the truck disappeared around the corner.

The sun was coming up. Zeke closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think about the days ahead.
Lord, just get me through this day. Wade with me through all this pain and help me climb up on the other side.

Abra cried all afternoon. Daddy didn’t want her anymore because it was her fault Mommy had died. She had heard Daddy saying she made too much work for Mommy.

Mrs. Matthews sat with her in Penny’s bedroom, stroking her back and telling her how much they loved her and how they hoped she’d learn to love them, too. Abra couldn’t keep her eyes open.

She awakened when Penny came home and bounded up the stairs. Her father called her back down before she reached the door. Abra got up and sat in the window seat.

The door opened a few minutes later, and the whole family came in. They came over to Abra, and Penny sat beside her. “Mommy and Daddy said you’re going to be my sister.” When tears poured down Abra’s cheeks, Penny looked uncertain. “Don’t you want to be my sister?”

Abra’s lip trembled. “I want to be your friend.”

Mrs. Matthews put a hand on each of their heads and smoothed their hair. “Now you can be both.”

Penny hugged Abra. “I told Mommy I wanted you to be my sister. She said to pray about it, and I did. I prayed and prayed, and now I have exactly what I’ve always wanted.”

Abra wondered what would happen when Penny changed her mind. Like Daddy.

After dinner,
One Man’s Family
on the radio, and story time, Abra was tucked into bed with Penny. Mrs. Matthews kissed each of them, turned out the light, and closed the door. Penny chattered away until she fell asleep in midsentence.

Wide-awake, Abra stared up at the lace canopy.

Mommy said she would love her forever, and Mommy died. Mommy said God wouldn’t take her away, but He did. Daddy said he loved her, but then he said she couldn’t live with him anymore. She had to stay here and live with the Matthews family. He said Mr. and Mrs. Matthews wanted to be her daddy and mommy.

Why didn’t it matter what Abra wanted?

Rain pattered on the roof, a few drops that quickened to a steady drumming. Penny turned over, talking in her sleep. Pushing the covers off, Abra got up and sat in the window seat. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees. The streetlights looked blurry in the rain. The front gate banged. The wind chimes jingled.

A man came around the corner a block down and continued up the sidewalk. Daddy! Maybe he’d changed his mind and wanted her back!

She rose to her knees, hands on the window.

He glanced up once and slowed as he walked along the white picket fence.

Had he seen her? She tapped on the window. The wind whipped
the branches of the three birch trees in the corner of the front yard. He stood below her at the gate. As she tapped again, harder, Abra’s heart thumped.

He didn’t look up or come through the gate. He stood motionless, head bowed, the way he did whenever he prayed. When he did that, Mommy always said to wait because he was talking to God.

Abra sat back on her heels, bowing her own head, hands clasped tightly. “Please, God, please, please, make my daddy take me home. Please. I’ll be good. I promise. I won’t make anybody too tired or sick.” She dashed tears away. “I wanna go home.”

Full of hope, she rose and looked out the window.

Daddy had walked to the end of the block. She stared as he disappeared around the corner.

Peter and Priscilla talked in whispers. Sometimes they looked upset. Then they’d put bright smiles on their faces and pretend everything was fine. Penny’s eagerness to have a sister disappeared. It came to a head when Priscilla made a new play outfit for Abra, and didn’t make one for Penny. “I thought it was for me!” Penny wailed.

“You already have several play outfits and Abra doesn’t.”

Penny cried louder. “I want her to
go home
!”

Peter came around the corner from the kitchen nook, where he’d been grading papers. “That’s enough, Penny. Go to your room!” She went, but not before she stuck her tongue out at Abra. Peter told Priscilla they needed to have another talk with Penny, and he and Priscilla went upstairs. They closed Penny’s bedroom door and were in there for so long, Abra didn’t know what to do. Finally, she went out to the backyard and sat on the swing. Should she go home? Where would Daddy take her then? To another family?

She turned around on the swing until the chains were twisted, then lifted her feet, spinning around and around.
Penny will always come first, come first, come first. Penny is their real daughter, real daughter, real daughter.
Dizzy, she did it again.
I’d better be nice, be nice, be nice.

Abra had overheard Peter talking to Priscilla in the kitchen that morning. “I haven’t seen her smile once in the past three months, Priss. She used to be such a happy little girl.”

Priscilla spoke in a hushed voice. “Marianne adored her. She’d probably still be alive if they’d let us take Abra to begin with, and we wouldn’t be having all these problems now.”

Peter poured himself a cup of coffee. “I hope things get better soon, or I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Fear had gripped Abra. They were talking about getting rid of her.

“Abra!” Peter sounded upset. He came rushing out the back door. She got off the swing and he let out a relieved breath. “There you are. Come on back inside, honey. We all want to talk with you.”

Abra’s palms felt wet. Her heart kept pounding faster as she followed Peter into the living room. Were they going to send her away to live with strangers? Priscilla and Penny sat on the couch. Peter put his hand on Abra’s shoulder. “Penny has something to say to you.”

“I’m sorry, Abra.” Penny’s face was puffy from crying. “I like having you for my sister.” Her voice was dull; her eyes told the truth.

“Good girl!” Priscilla squeezed her closer and kissed the top of her head.

Abra didn’t trust any of them.

Priscilla pulled Abra down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging Penny close on one side and Abra on the other. “You’re both our little girls now. We love having two daughters.”

Daddy still came over every few days. Joshua never came with him. They only got to see one another after Sunday school each week, and then they’d just stand and look at each other and not know what to say.

Whenever Abra heard Daddy’s voice, she flew down the stairs, hoping he’d come to take her home this time. Priscilla would take
her hand and lean down. “Don’t call him Daddy, Abra. You’re to call him Reverend Freeman like all the other children do. When you get older, you can call him Pastor Zeke. Peter is your daddy now.”

She cried herself to sleep on those nights and sometimes had nightmares. She’d cry out to Daddy, but he couldn’t hear her. She’d try to run after him, but hands held her back. She’d scream,
“Daddy, Daddy!”
but he didn’t turn around.

Priscilla woke her up and held her. “Everything is going to be all right, Abra. Mommy’s here.” But Mommy wasn’t. Mommy was in a box underground.