The Atonement Child (24 page)

“Well . . .”

“No,” Dynah said when her mother glanced at her.

A door opened across the hall, startling them both. A doctor came out and put a medical chart in a rack to the right of the door.

Hannah stared at him. “Jim? Jim Wyatt?”

Jim turned at hearing his name and looked at the elegantly dressed woman before him. Heat poured into his face.

“It is you,” she said, amazed and oddly relieved.

He smiled bleakly. “It’s been a long time, Hannah.” He looked at the young woman with her.

“This is my daughter, Dynah.”

Jim held out his hand to Dynah. She was pale, her hand icy, and she was pregnant. She looked close to tears and ready to flee. “I knew your mother in college. She was my sister’s roommate.” Was this girl going to be his last abortion for the day? Worse, was Hannah going to be standing in the room with her and watch him at work?

Hannah watched his face; he looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. He was acutely aware of their surroundings and not exactly happy to see her. He saw the question in her eyes as she looked at him: How had he come to work in a place like this?

Jim felt ashamed, though he couldn’t think of any reason why he should be. “It appears you’re leaving,” he said somewhat stiffly. Yes, he worked here. And they had come for his services, hadn’t they?

“Dynah’s uncertain.”

“It’s a big decision.”

“She has a lot of questions.”

“Mom? Let’s go. Please.” Dynah took a step toward the exit.

Hannah looked at him, appeal in her eyes. “Maybe you could help, Jim. Could we talk to you about . . . well, about all this. Procedures. Risks. Everything.”

He stared at her, aware that she believed he would be honest—and that he would help lay Dynah’s fears to rest.

He glanced at Brenda, but she merely looked down at the file in her hands, offering no help. He could understand her dilemma. Policy. He didn’t agree with it either, but Elizabeth had a way of driving the point home.

As though right on cue, Elizabeth came out of her office and stopped to look at them. Her eyes narrowed. Sometimes she acted almost territorial. Annoyed, Jim stared back at her. He was well aware of her views. Elizabeth was convinced women didn’t need to know about the pain and possible risks. She said that sort of information only added needlessly to their trauma.

He didn’t happen to agree. He thought women had the right to know the truth. But then, his feelings didn’t matter. The Supreme Court upheld Elizabeth’s viewpoint, not his. In most cases, no questions were asked, and he didn’t have a problem. In a few cases they were, and he offered vague reassurances. With some, he wanted to tell them all the details right down to what happened to the fetus.

Why should he have to bear the burden of what they were doing? Why did he have to be the one to hold the result of their decision in his hands? Why did he have to stare the truth in the face every day he worked in this grim place?

The girl he had just helped had been in here six months ago. When he recognized her, he’d had to stuff his feelings down and stifle the angry words that threatened to pour out. He’d had to remind himself it wasn’t his right to judge her.

She wasn’t the first to come back for another abortion, and this wasn’t the first time he’d felt such anger growing in him. Like a corrosive agent, it ate away any compassion he felt.

Why didn’t these girls use the birth control given to them? Why didn’t they listen to Elizabeth’s admonitions or pay attention to the sex education classes taught in every grade school through high school all across the country? Every year the numbers increased.

Business was booming.

What a way to make a living.

He felt sick and hopeless in the face of it. And trapped by his own principles and reasons for being here.

Hannah’s daughter looked up at him, and he thought of his sister. Beautiful. Frightened. Desperately confused. Carolyn had been about this girl’s age when she died.

Why did Hannah’s daughter have to come here? Why couldn’t she have gone to another clinic across the city or bay or in another state? Why did it have to be him?

“Jim,” Hannah said softly, as though sensing his turmoil, “we need your help.”

And there it was.

He looked at Hannah and her daughter and knew he couldn’t turn away from them. They wouldn’t be here if they had any other choice.

“I’ll meet you for coffee, and we’ll talk about it.”

Brenda glanced at him, surprised.

He ignored her. He would answer their questions. He couldn’t do it here, in a professional capacity, but elsewhere, in a casual setting, he could talk freely. They didn’t look comfortable in this antiseptic hallway, the sound of muffled crying coming from the room behind him, and Elizabeth Chambers looking at them as though they lacked the guts to do what they had to do. In another minute, she would intervene and apply just the right measure of pressure to break down their resistance.

“I have two hours before I make my rounds at the hospital,” he said briskly and suggested a café with high-walled booths where they would have privacy. “I can meet you there in thirty minutes.”

Relief swept Hannah’s face. “Thank you, Jim. Thank you so much.” She put her arm around Dynah as they headed down the corridor.

Jim walked with them, knowing if he didn’t, they would have to contend with Elizabeth. As it was, she moved to the front counter, where they would have to talk with her before leaving anyway.

“They want time to think it over,” he told her as he reached the counter. “Phyllis, return their money.”

Phyllis glanced at Elizabeth.

Jim raised his brow in challenge. “I’ve assured these ladies we aren’t in the business of coercing women into having abortions.”

“Of course not,” Elizabeth said indignantly, eyes glittering. “Do as he says, Phyllis.” She watched the money returned.

Hannah stuffed the uncounted bills into her purse and opened the door, ushering Dynah out.

Angry, Elizabeth looked up at Jim. “What did you say to them?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? They practically ran out of here.”

Ignoring her, he picked up another chart and headed down the corridor.

Fuming, Elizabeth glared after him. Who did he think he was? God? He needed to be knocked off that high horse of his. He might be a doctor, but she ran this place. He answered to her.

“Phyllis, give me the envelope in his box.” When it was in her hand, she turned. “Jim, you forgot something.”

Turning, he looked at her. “What?”

She walked toward him with measured steps, opening the envelope as she did so. Eyes glacial, she held out his check. “This,” she said.

A muscle jerked in his cheek.

Elizabeth smiled sardonically. “Don’t you want it? You earned it.”

He took it. Folding it, he stuffed it into his pocket.

Elizabeth gauged his expression. “Back to business, Doctor.” Satisfied with the look on his face, she turned and walked away.

Chapter 7

Dynah sat in the booth sipping 7UP, feeling off-balance and out of place. Her mother seemed to have forgotten the reason for this coffee klatch as she reminisced with Dr. James Wyatt. On the drive to the café, she had said that he was the brother of a dear friend of hers who had died and that his presence had obliterated all her fears about Dynah’s care.

“James Wyatt would never do anything to harm you—or anyone,” she’d said. “He couldn’t. It isn’t in his nature to do so, not if he’s the man I remember him to be.”

As Dynah studied him surreptitiously, he seemed all her mother thought of him.

“It’s been so many years, Jim,” Hannah said.

He smiled. “A lot of water under the bridge.” Away from the clinic, he could breathe easier. “How’s Jerry?”

Dynah glanced at her mother curiously, a bit surprised to see a quick blush coloring her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I haven’t seen him in years. I married a man I met here in the city. Douglas Carey.”

“Good Scots name.”

“He’s a wonderful man.” She looked pointedly at his wedding band. “And you?”

“Her name’s Cynthia. Fifteen happy years. She helped put me through medical school.”

“Do you live here in the city?”

“No. Cynthia and I have a place in Mill Valley. We wanted the children to grow up as close to the country as they could. We’re a few minutes from the beach.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Two.” He looked at Dynah. “Much younger than Dynah. We got a late start.”

“Dynah’s my only child.” Dynah smiled slightly when her mother reached out to touch her hand gently, pride shining in her eyes. “We should get our families together.”

Dynah shrank at the thought even as her mother said it.

“Sounds good.”

“We could have a picnic at the beach or somewhere in Golden Gate Park.”

Jim glanced at Dynah and saw how rigidly she sat, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast, her thumb rubbing up and down on the frosty glass. “Why don’t we forgo reunion plans until a later time,” he said gently.

Dynah watched her mother glance at her again, then reach out to put a comforting hand lightly on her wrist. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just that seeing Jim after all these years was such a surprise. A pleasant one,” she hastened to add.

What sort of friends had her mother had? Dynah wondered. And who was Jerry?

“You can ask Jim anything, honey. He’ll be honest with you.”

Jim hoped she wouldn’t be too inquisitive. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss graphic details of what went on at the clinic.

Dynah raised her eyes and looked between her mother and Jim Wyatt. How did one begin such a terrible conversation? Should she dance around the edges or cut straight to the heart of it?

She wished her mother would start, but she just waited quietly, watching Dynah with such an expression of sadness that Dynah wanted to cry. Her mother must have sensed her struggle, for she patted her hand. “It’s all right, honey.”

“Is it?” Dynah asked softly. Despite her mother’s assurances, she wasn’t sure she could trust this man. Could she entrust her life to him?

Lord, is he trustworthy?

Her mother turned back to the doctor, who also waited in silence. “She was raped, Jim. She’s had an awful time since. Her engagement’s been broken. She’s had to leave college. Her life is in complete turmoil. Her father feels . . . well, we feel abortion is the best answer.”

Oh, Jesus,
Jim thought, bereft.

He couldn’t get that other girl out of his head.

“How far along?”

“It happened in early January.”

Second trimester. The girl was too far along for a menstrual extraction or suction curettage. “Too bad you didn’t arrive at your decision sooner.”

Dynah’s head came up. She hadn’t said she had made a decision, but he went on.

“Didn’t the examining doctor offer you a morning-after pill?”

“Yes. I refused.”

He looked at the cross around her neck and decided not to pursue her reasons. Best not to get into religious territory. It only muddied the waters. “Even a couple of months afterward, it would’ve been a simple procedure, about fifteen minutes and that’s it. Second-trimester abortions are a little more difficult.” He looked at Dynah, trying to think of gentle ways to say it. “I’d give you an injection of prostaglandin to induce contractions and expel the tissue.” He left it at that. If she needed to know the grim details of how the hormone was injected and where and what it did to the fetus, she would have to ask. Time enough to know when it was being done.

“The risk is minimal,” Jim continued, seeing her pallor and wanting to reassure her. In the five years he’d been performing abortions, he had kept to the first-trimester abortions, leaving the late-terms to Dr. Franklin. Since Dynah was the daughter of a good friend, he’d make an exception this time. He’d see her through it and stand beside her in recovery to make sure she was fine.

The newspaper article about the dead girl flashed into his mind.

Why should he think of that now? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head?

And why was Hannah looking at him like that?

He focused his attention on Dynah. She was the one in need of help. “I’d take good care of you. I’ll be as careful with you as if you were my own daughter.” Even as he said it, his heart shuddered.

“What about later?” Hannah said quietly.

“She’d remain in recovery for an hour or two. I’d keep a close watch on her.”

“I mean . . .
later
.”

“I’ve only had a few clients come back with complications, all of which were usually minor and easily solved with drugs.” His mouth curved grimly. Unfortunately, most who came back were pregnant again, usually within a few months. His expression softened as he looked at Dynah. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Dynah. It’s not as difficult as you’ve probably heard.”

Again he saw Hannah glance at him, as though she wanted to say something. But she stayed silent, a troubled expression on her face.

Dynah knew her mother had already made up her mind. She’d wanted to ask questions and now felt constrained about doing so. Her mother was tense and nearly in tears, and prolonging the conversation would make it harder for her. Yet Dynah found herself floundering. What she knew in her head and heart warred with what this man was saying.

Her mother spoke up, as though wanting to avoid talking about any more details. “How did you become involved in all this, Jim?”

“Carolyn,” Jim said.

“Carolyn?” Dynah’s mother said, clearly surprised. At Dynah’s questioning glance, her mother explained. “Carolyn was Jim’s sister. She was one of my best friends in the sorority.” She smiled. “We were both freshmen, so we learned the ropes together. Carolyn was beautiful, wild about Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, and enjoying her first taste of real freedom. Knowing her was like watching a fireworks display. Glorious and beautiful while it lasted.”

“While it lasted?”

Her mother nodded at the question. “She died. Over spring break. Everyone was stunned. I . . . Well, it was devastating to lose her.” She looked at Dr. Wyatt with a slight frown. “But I don’t understand. You told me she died of a ruptured appendix.”

“She died of sepsis following an illegal abortion.”

“Oh, Jim.” Dynah heard the tears in her mother’s voice.

“Some woman did it. How Carolyn found out about her, I’ll never know. My parents had no idea. Mom said Carolyn went shopping one afternoon and came home pale and weak. She went to bed. She kept saying she’d be fine, but she kept getting worse. By the time they took her into emergency, it was too late.”

His eyes filled as he remembered his younger sister. She’d had everything going for her. “It’s remembering how Carolyn died that keeps me going.”

Hannah sat silent.

Jim looked at Dynah. “Things are different now. It’s legal. You can have the best medical care. It’s a simple procedure, done by a doctor in a sterile environment with the proper equipment; there’s little risk. Within a few days, you’ll be fine.”

Dynah felt his determination, but as casual and easy as Dr. Wyatt made it sound, she couldn’t think about it without a visceral response. She couldn’t think it through without horror.

Suddenly, she felt a fluttering sensation in her abdomen, and she froze. She waited, then felt it again. A stirring of life. Her heart raced madly.

“Are you all right, honey?” her mother said, touching her again.

Dynah wanted to scream,
No! I can feel the baby moving!

Oh, God, how can I be all right under these circumstances? Can I concentrate on the rape that produced this child and go through with an abortion? And if I do, can I walk away unscathed?

“Dynah?”

She looked at her mother and saw the hope that lay there. Her mother wanted it over and done with. She didn’t want to have to deal with the problem. She didn’t want to have to do battle with Daddy over the moral implications or alternatives. In their minds, there was no alternative.

Dynah envisioned herself in a narrow chute, like some poor cow being herded along, everyone she loved standing around and above her with electric prods, stinging her and moving her in one direction. Toward death. Not hers. But death nonetheless.

She felt movement again, and she could imagine small arms and legs flailing. How much worse would it be when this man injected the deadly hormone? Would she feel the child’s death throes?

God, how can I live with that? God, Jesus, where are You when I need You?

“Will you please excuse me?” she said, shaking. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.” Any excuse would do. She had to get out of the booth and away.

“Are you all right, honey? You don’t look well.”

“I’m a little nauseated. I’ll be fine, Mom. I just need to use the bathroom.” It was all she could do to wait until her mother slipped from the booth and helped her out.

Hannah watched her daughter for a moment as she hurried away before sitting down again. She frowned.

“She’s not sure,” she said, almost apologetically. “I’ve always taught her it was wrong, and now this happens. I keep telling her it’s not her fault. If anyone has a good reason for having an abortion, she does.” It would be so much easier on everyone if she’d just get it done. Then they could put it behind them.

“It’s not something to rush into,” Jim said.

Hannah thought it ironic that he would be the one to say that.

“She’s a beautiful girl, Hannah.”

“Yes, she is, isn’t she? And she’s
good
. She’s been such a joy. Never a worry.” She shook her head, pressing her lips together, fighting tears. Life wasn’t fair.

“Sorry I mentioned Jerry. I thought it was a sure thing.”

“So did I.” She gave a bleak laugh and lowered her head, her hands around her coffee mug. She was so confused, the old pain churning again. Memories drowning her in misery. When Jim had told Dynah that she wouldn’t suffer any long-term aftereffects, she’d wanted to believe him. Maybe she was one of the rare cases who had had problems for years afterward. She’d wanted to say something, to ask questions . . . but she couldn’t. Not with Dynah sitting beside her. What would her daughter think of her if she knew she’d had an abortion? Would Dynah lose all respect for her? Of course she would. She simply wouldn’t understand. How could she?

She thought again of Jim’s sister, Carolyn. Her death had made Hannah realize her own mortality. She and two other girls had driven to Pasadena for the funeral. It was after that trip that she had given in to Jerry’s wishes. They’d been in his apartment, the news of Vietnam blaring reports about the offensive in Hue when she’d given herself to him. The world was winding down, blowing up around them. She’d wanted to grasp every second of happiness she could.

And everything had turned to ashes anyway.

“Actually, I could have ended up like Carolyn,” she said before thinking better of it. She hesitated and then went on, seeing no reason to hide anything anymore. Not from Jim.

She raised her head to see how he took the revelation. Nothing in his expression said he condemned or judged her. Why not tell him? If anyone could understand, surely Jim would. Douglas never really had. He refused to talk about it, and she couldn’t get past it.