The Veritas Conflict (53 page)

The class broke up in explosive laughter, like air bursting from a balloon. The professor’s lips twitched, and he glanced at his watch. “Well, I think we’re going to have to let that be the last word.”

Claire had never seen so many students exit the room so quickly. The sound of the professor’s voice—reminding them of an upcoming paper—was drowned out by a waterfall of shuffling papers and a stampede of feet out the door.

Behind her, she overheard two women gathering their books, talking under their breaths. “What a jerk! That self-righteous attitude …”

Her face grew hot and angry. Neither of them had said anything in class, and here they were denigrating someone who’d had the guts to—She turned around, but they were already making their way down the row.

Downcast, she watched them go.
God, did we accomplish
anything
today?

She made her way across the room to where Brad was stuffing his backpack. Two of the prolife students slapped him on the back as they moved toward the door.

She was about to speak when she heard a soft female voice.

“Brad?”

Both she and Brad turned. Bethany was standing a row above them.

“Yes?” Brad looked wary.

Bethany’s manner was reserved, but her voice was warm. “Listen, I just wanted to let you know something. I’ve been prochoice a long time—abortion has always made me vaguely uneasy, but I’ve never been able to get past the issue of controlling my own body. But now … well, I’m leaning toward the prolife position.”

Some astonishment must have shown in Brad and Claire’s eyes, because she hurried on. “its not, no offense, because of any argument that you made or anything you really said. Its because of how they respond to you. Keesha may be a know-it-all, but she’s not usually mean. But today, and with all the other things that people said, well, I just couldn’t help but think that if they were so irrational, they must have something to hide.” A brief smile flitted across her lips. “I was glad you told her off at the end.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come across like that,” Brad said. “I’m afraid I got a little carried away. I should apologi—”

“No way! It was good to hear you defend yourself for once. You always let people beat you up. I may not completely agree with you, but you should stick it to ’em once in a while.”

“Believe me, Bethany, I would love to. I just have to be careful about it. That’s all.”

“Why?”

“Well …” Brad paused, considering her open demeanor, her frank gaze. “I used to be a very different person. I used to argue all the time—I
had
to get my way,
had
to sneak around and manipulate things for my benefit. Then, a few years ago, I made a faith commitment that changed my life. And God transformed my personality.”

“Look,” Bethany held up her hand. “I don’t want to get all personal here. I just—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t go into it. I was just answering your question.” He pursed his lips. “Anyway, when I became a Christian, God really remade me. I wasn’t angry all the time, wasn’t so bent on getting my own way. But—” he smiled ruefully—“enough of that old stuff was left in there that I didn’t necessarily look like Jesus, either. Jesus said that if someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. In essence, don’t retaliate—even when it may be fully deserved. So I’ve got to really watch it in class—in this whole school, in fact—or the old me could come crashing back in. And that wouldn’t be good for me or anybody else.”

Claire watched Bethany’s face and felt a sudden urge to pray for her.
Lord, open her eyes; open her mind. Help her have ears to hear
.

“What would you say,” Bethany asked slowly, “to someone who wasn’t expecting to be pregnant, but who was … and thought that abortion might be wrong … but whose life would be ruined if she went through with the pregnancy?”

“Well,” Brad looked a little uncomfortable, but his voice was kind. “First, I’d tell her that I cared about both her and the baby. I’d tell her that I would do anything I could to help her carry the baby to term and find adoptive parents or whatever she wanted to do at that point.”

“What if … what if she knew she
should
carry the baby, but felt she had no choice but to have an abortion?”

Claire reached out and touched her classmates arm. “Bethany …” She looked over at Brad. “May I?”

Brad nodded relieved assent.

She turned back to Bethany. “I would tell … this person … to realize first and foremost that she’s not simply carrying a fetus—as some people prefer to call it. She’s carrying a beautiful, tiny baby.” Claire’s eyes searched the young woman’s face. “Then I would sit with her for as long as she wanted and tell her about all the amazing services available to help her. I’d tell her that she’s not alone, and need never be alone through this process.”

Tears began to form in the corners of Bethany’s eyes. She blinked them away, holding her head higher.

“I would tell her,” Claire continued, “that God created her, and loves her, just like God lovingly created the baby. I’d tell her about the amazing tiny person developing inside of her: the heartbeat, the little arms and legs, the miracle that God has fashioned.”

“But what if she didn’t have any choice?” Bethany asked again, her words despairing. “What if her life would be ruined?”

Claire laid a soft hand on Bethany’s shoulder. Her eyes were kind. “I would tell her, Bethany, that she
does
have a choice. She just doesn’t like it very much.”

Bethany drew in a shuddering breath. “But—”

“And as for her life being ruined? What I have found, really, is that when we say It will ruin my life,’ in most cases what we really mean is ‘It will be a huge inconvenience.’ What we really mean is ‘I’ll have to drop out of school for a year’ or ‘I’ll have to quit my job or get another one’ or ‘I’ll have to move back in with my parents.’ Those are all inconveniences—real ones—but when you think of what’s hanging in the balance, just inconveniences. Rarely does going through with a pregnancy actually mean that one’s life will be ruined. But I can tell … this person … many ways in which abortion will ruin both her life and the life of her little child.”

Bethany stood very still, tears leaking unchecked from her eyes. Claire stepped up to her row of seats and hugged her.

“I’m so scared.” The words were almost a whisper in Claire’s ear. Bethany pressed a shaking hand against her mouth. “So scared.”

Claire glanced over at Brad, who also climbed over the row and hugged the tearful
woman. They gently sat her down then settled into seats on either side of her.

Claire took her classmates hand. “Bethany, do you have anyone helping you?”

“No.” The voice was still a whisper. “Nobody knows. Only my boyfriend.”

“What does he say?”

“He wants me to get an abortion. To ‘take care of it,’ he said.” Bethany took a half-used pack of tissues out of her backpack and gave a tearful smile. “I’ve been going through five of these packs a day.”

Brad and Claire smiled and waited while she blew her nose.

“The problem is,” the tears were coming again, “I just can’t shake the feeling that I’d be doing something terrible. I know I have the choice, and I know its my body and no one else can tell me what to do with it, but—” She looked over at Claire. “But the other day I was walking down Mass Ave, and I saw a bumper sticker: Some Choices Are Wrong, it said. I was so furious at the time, but I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Yesterday I figured that even though I’ve missed two periods, I should ask the student health center to confirm whether I was actually pregnant. As soon as the test came back positive, they handed me this pamphlet on places to get an abortion.” Her voice was very small. “I don’t know what to do.”

Claire smiled at her new friend. “Here’s what
we’re
going to do. In a few minutes, you and I will go get a snack off-campus somewhere, and then I’ll go with you over to a place in Somerville, just a few stops down on the T”. At Bethany’s cautious look, she chuckled slightly. “Don’t worry. Its a pregnancy resource center with a medical clinic and counselors and caseworkers that have lots of experience helping people like you. I used to work in a place just like it back home in Michigan.”

Bethany laughed slightly. “I thought you sounded pretty professional.”

“Hey, listen. I may have done this before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care, Bethany. I do.” She sat back a bit. “I care about both you
and the
beautiful little life forming inside of you right now.”

As the three of them gathered their things, Claire was quietly exultant.
God, and to think I was wondering if this class had any effect at all! What a privilege to serve You! Thank You, Father
.

She arranged to meet Bethany by Johnston Gate in ten minutes and watched her compose herself and leave the classroom.
O Father God, help her to do the right thing
.

She said good-bye to Brad, pulled on her parka, and headed for the door. Suddenly, her thoughts flitted to a biology problem set she had to turn in at the Science Center by three o’clock. But wasn’t there something else …?

She stopped dead in her tracks. Mansfield’s project! She was supposed to be doing all that advance work right now!

She glanced at her watch, her heart sinking, and raced for the door. She could just make it to the Science Center and back to Johnston Gate in ten minutes. She shook her head.

She would be there for Bethany. But what timing.

FORTY-SIX

A
WHOLE HOST OF GREMLINS CONVERGED
on the young woman as she hurried down the stairs of the Science Center, her eyes looking for the correct office. They swarmed through the hallway, tripping her, blocking her vision of the doors, which, they noted with delight, were already laid out in a confusing manner.

Maybe if they delayed her enough, their Master’s purposes for the other girl would prevail.

She found the right office and entered a maze of cubicles. One of the demons sped ahead toward the first desk and poked a long finger through the occupant’s computer.

The screen froze up just as Claire approached.

“Excuse me, where is the biology labs de—?”

“Oh great!” The worker stood and whacked her computer screen. “I didn’t save it! This piece of—” She turned and growled at Claire. “it’s down at the end on the right.”

Claire disappeared, then came hurrying back. “Excuse me, I hate to bother you.”

The worker looked up from fiddling with her keyboard, animosity plain on her face. Claire swallowed, but didn’t back down.

“Where’s the nearest phone?”

Claire stood at a campus phone in the Science Center, drumming her fingers on the wall beside her, notebook ready. The phone was ringing endlessly in her ear. She looked at the clock at the end of the hallway. Bethany would be standing by Johnston Gate already, and it was freezing outside. Would she change her mind?

The phone kept ringing. Would these people ever—She heard a click and sighed. “The number for Ian Burke, please.”

She shifted from foot to foot, looking at the wall clock again. Her attention came back to the receiver. “What? I guess its B-U-R-K-E.” She listened a moment longer, then her voice grew alarmed. “No … wait!… not Greg. Don’t connect me! its
Ian
Burke. I-A-N. No,
B
as in
boy
. B-U-R-K-E.” She waited, drumming her fingers harder. “Uh, sir, I’m kind of in a hurry … Well, yes, as a matter of fàa you could say it was a matter of life and death! Please, sir, I know his number is listed!” She closed her eyes, listening, her voice faint. “No, sir. I really do need your help. Thank you very much, sir.”

God, help me keep my patience, and keep Bethany standing there…

She grabbed her pen and scribbled the number, then dialed. In a moment, she was speaking hastily to his voice mail.

“Ian, its Claire. I’m so sorry, but something really urgent has come up, and I’m not going to be able to find the right office for us to go to tomorrow. I can’t explain over voice mail.” She gave a short sigh of frustration. “I know you were counting on me, and I’m really sorry I didn’t do it sooner. But I had this class and … Look, I’ll explain a bit more tomorrow. I don’t know if
you
might possibly be able to do the advance work or not, but I’ll be back tonight probably by dinnertime, and if you need to call me, you have my number. Hopefully this won’t be too much of a problem. I’m really sorry.” She glanced up at the clock again. “Oh my gosh, I’ve got to run. I’ll try to call you later tonight.”

Claire hurried toward the exit, parka over her arm, stuffing her notebook into her backpack as she went. What would they say to her? Was she ruining her reputation with Mansfield?

Her pastor’s words rose in her mind:
Ministry is always inconvenient
. She smiled ruefully, zipping the heavy backpack closed.
You don’t say.

She pushed through the doors into a blast of freezing rain and headed for Johnston Gate at a half-run. She fumbled for the zipper of her parka, trying to get it hooked on the run, and jerked it once, twice.…
Come on, you stupid thing
.

She yanked a third time and the backpack fell off her shoulder. It hit the ground and broke open, a gaping rip running the length of one side.

Claire grabbed the pack in her arms, trying to keep books from falling free. She muttered under her breath, “I didn’t sign up for this, Lord!” The next instant a curious feeling overwhelmed her, and her lips suddenly twitched.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

She forced herself to pause. She set the backpack down, took a deep breath, and calmly zipped her parka and drew the hood over her head. Then she carefully picked up the broken pack in both arms and continued at a good clip toward the gate.
Please let Bethany be there.…

She rounded the corner.
Oh, thank God

Bethany was standing forlornly in the shadow of the tall wall. She was wearing a long trench coat and hugging her arms to her chest, a small purse dangling over her arm.