The Atonement Child (33 page)

Above shone blue heaven.

“Is she all right?” Hannah said, her voice trembling, full of pain.

“She’s at risk right now,” Jim said, trying to be reassuring and firm at the same time. “She’s going to stay with us for a few days. She needs bed rest and a special diet. We’ll see to everything, Hannah. I don’t want you to worry.”

How could she not? “Does she still want the baby?”

“Oh, yes,” he said with a soft laugh. How long since he had felt so light he could fly? He knew it came from being a part of bringing life into the world rather than taking it. “She wants the baby very much. That’s why we’re taking these precautions.”

“You’re the last person I would’ve expected her to ask for help,” Hannah said, and he heard the loss and rejection in her tone.

“Considering where you found me a few weeks ago, I can understand that. I swear to you—I swear on my life—I won’t do anything to harm Dynah or her child. I’ll do everything I can to safeguard her and the baby. And there won’t be any expense. Whatever comes, I’ll take care of it.”

“What happened to you, Jim?”

“Redemption.” He couldn’t speak for a moment. “Dynah brought me a message—one I’ve been waiting to hear since I lost my sister.”

There was a pause, then, “May I talk to my daughter?”

“She’ll call tomorrow morning. Right now, I’ve ordered her to bed. Cynthia’s bringing her dinner. Dynah said she wasn’t sure you and her dad agreed with her decision, and I don’t want her upset about anything.”

“You can tell Dynah I support her completely in her decision to have the baby.”

“And Doug?”

“Her father will stay out of it.” The response was firm—and cold. “What about the clinic, Jim? Are you still working there?”

He wondered if she meant for the sarcasm to seep through. “I’ve made two calls this evening. One to Elizabeth Chambers tendering my resignation, the second, to you.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

She broke off, but the implication was clear. She had sinned less than he. She had killed only her baby; he’d killed hundreds. Thousands . . .

“He has removed our rebellious acts as far away from us as the east is from the west.”

He closed his eyes in gratitude.
Thank You, God. Thank You
.

“I understand,” Jim said quietly. “Believe me, Hannah, I understand.” His life had made a complete about-face in the last hour. He was free. After so many years, he could scarcely take it in. He gave her the address and telephone number. “If you and Doug want to come up, feel welcome. Our house is open to both of you. Anytime.”

Hannah hung up the telephone, her fingers trembling.

“Redemption,”
Jim had said. Hannah wanted to be happy for him but found herself feeling jealous instead. If he could find redemption, why couldn’t she? And why was Dynah with him instead of her parents? The irony of the situation struck Hannah’s heart. She supposed she couldn’t blame Jim for his suspicions. After all, she was the one who had brought Dynah to the abortion clinic.

She turned and saw Doug standing in the archway between the family room and the kitchen.

“Stay out of what?” he asked, watching her carefully.

“Nothing,” she said rigidly, letting her anger show clearly in her eyes. “Your briefcase is in the family room, where you left it last night.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, whether from pain or anger, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. She was past caring what he thought about anything.

“Was that about Dynah?”

“Yes.” She looked at him, her mouth tipping in a bitter smile. “She’s staying with Jim Wyatt.”

“Who is Jim Wyatt?”

“An old friend from college days.” Her eyes were hot, challenging. “Go ahead, Doug. Ask me if he was one of my lovers. Wasn’t I supposed to have had a drove of them?”

He let it pass. “How does she know him?”

“He’s a doctor. We ran into him at the clinic where you sent us. The abortion clinic. Funny, isn’t it, Doug? Our daughter wants to save her baby, and where does she go for help? To
him
. She couldn’t come home to us, could she? Not knowing how you feel about the
thing
she carries.”

Turning away, Hannah went into the family room. She stood with her arms around herself, fighting for control. She felt as though she were drowning in a storm-tossed sea.

Doug went to the notepad near the telephone and tore off the top sheet. Stuffing it into his pocket, he went for his briefcase. “I might be home late.”

“Take your time.” Turning slightly, she glared at him. “In fact, I don’t care if you take the rest of your life.”

Doug walked through the family room and out the back door.

“Joe?”

Joe’s heart jumped at the sound of Dynah’s voice. “Hey, kiddo. How ya doing?”

“Better. I’m not home yet, but I’ll be there soon.”

“Are you still in Fort Bragg?”

“No, I’m staying with friends in Mill Valley.” She gave him the telephone number and address. “Jim’s a doctor. So you don’t have to wonder if I’m getting proper care.”

“Do your folks know where you are?”

She was quiet so long, he was afraid he’d lost the connection. “Dynah?”

“They know. Daddy called this morning.”

“And?”

“I need you to pray for them, Joe. I don’t know if they’re going to make it through this.”

Evie returned from an afternoon Bible study to find a message on her answering machine. “Mom, Dynah called. She’s coming home in a few days. Right now, she’s under the care of a doctor. She’s decided to have the baby.”

Sitting down in her swivel rocker, Evie wept in relief. She sat for a long time, hands covering her face, allowing the news to sink in and revive her spirit. She had been so afraid for Dynah, so afraid for Hannah and Doug and all the rest who didn’t understand the destructive effects of a single decision.

Oh, God, only You are faithful. Hannah gave Dynah to You before she was born, as did I. Bring her through, Lord. Bring her through for all of us. Give us a handhold. Draw us up out of the pit we have dug for ourselves. Oh, God, help us climb toward the light above and not fall into the darkness below.

The telephone rang.

Scrubbing the tears from her face, Evie rose and answered, disgruntled at the interruption.

“Is everything all right?”

Nosy old coot. “Everything’s fine, Glad. Why are you calling me again?”

“I don’t know.”

“We talked this morning.”

“So what? We can’t talk now?”

“You’re turning into a pest.”

“Don’t be such an old crab.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m going to be heading south again.”

“You’re turning into a yo-yo, Evie.”

“Well, when I bob back up, I hope I’ll have Dynah with me.”

“She’s home?”

“On her way. She’s going to have the baby.”

“Good for her,” Gladys said with a lilt in her voice, then more solemnly, “You okay?”

“I think I will be.” She was shaking inside, her throat tight. “Finally.”

“What do you say we get the girls together?”

“They don’t know the whole story.”

“Maybe it’s time they did.”

Pastor Dan Michaelson stepped from his car and breathed a quick prayer for wisdom. He knew the conversation he was about to have wouldn’t be an easy one . . . but he was ready for it. And not just because of his recent talks with Doug Carey. It seemed he’d been preparing for this for the past few years.

He knew the emotions Hannah Carey was feeling. They were the same emotions he’d felt from so many others who suffered as she was suffering. Several women in his congregation had approached him for counseling over the past few years. But he was a preacher, not a counselor. And so, feeling ill-equipped and time-pressed, he had recommended a professional—a Christian counselor he knew well and trusted.

Several of those he’d referred had been helped greatly. They’d come to him, gratitude shining in their eyes, thankful that he had directed them to someone who could understand their turmoil in light of God’s Word, someone who had helped them begin to deal with the pain and find God’s healing. With such successes, it only made sense to continue referring women who struggled as Hannah did to others who had the training to help them. Then his counselor friend called to tell him he couldn’t take any more new patients, so Dan decided to call area counseling centers for a list of Christian counselors. He’d felt a tinge of unease at sending his charges to someone he didn’t know, but he pushed the concerns aside. These people were Christians, after all, and professionals. They knew what they were doing.

Then, four days ago, one of his deacons called. In a broken voice the man explained that his wife was in the hospital after attempting suicide. Shock ran through Dan as he realized she was one of the women he had sent to a counselor on the list. When Dan visited the woman in the hospital, he asked what had brought on such despair. She said she had tried to come to the point where she would feel no guilt or remorse. She had tried to justify what she had done. She had tried to see that she wasn’t to blame. Failing, she wanted to die.

Stunned, he called his friend, who gave him a list of questions to ask Marsha’s psychologist: Did she use Scripture? Had she prayed with Marsha? Had she come alongside Marsha and tried to guide her back into obedience to God? Dan contacted the counselor—and within moments learned Scripture had no place in her therapeutic sessions, nor did prayer. As for coming alongside her patient, the woman said Marsha needed to learn to stand alone.