The Atonement Child (35 page)

“The PCC is too far away, and my house is next door to the church. I’m still thinking over possibilities.”

“You can have it here.”

He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. You’ll have to discuss it with Doug, of course.”

“He won’t mind.” And if he did, he could leave. He could take a boat to China for all she cared.

Dan suspected her feelings and decided to call Doug himself and discuss it with him. After the conversation last night, he didn’t think Doug would stand in the way. More likely, he’d be standing on the sidelines cheering.

They decided to hold the first meeting on a Wednesday evening. Dan said he would be attending. He planned to review all the materials beforehand to make sure they were Scripture-based and didn’t veer in any way from the path of God’s Word. He would be calling the other women and encouraging them to attend too.

“I won’t tell them it’s here unless they commit to it,” he said, offering her no names to protect their confidentiality as well as her own. “Pray for open hearts, Hannah.”

“And if no one will come?”

He smiled gently. “We’ll begin with you.”

Chapter 9

Cynthia peeled potatoes at the kitchen sink while Dynah read to Cricket and Todd. Feeling oddly melancholy, she paid no attention to the humorous poem, nor to the children’s laughter. Something was plaguing her, something that wanted to come up into the open. She knew it was something she wasn’t going to like.

Birds fluttered around the feeder on the lawn, finches mostly, scattered by an arrogant blue jay. The smaller birds fluttered to the ground, intent on feeding on the seeds tossed about by the proud jay. She would have to refill the feeder tomorrow as the birds had been feasting the last three days. Since Dynah’s arrival, the children had played little in the backyard, giving the birds free access.

Cynthia missed watching her children through the glass as they raced around the backyard playing soccer or tag. Lately, they stayed indoors with Dynah. Right now, Todd was glued to her right side, and Cricket was plastered to her left; both listened raptly to words written by Robert Louis Stevenson. Dynah’s voice was gentle and fluid, with just the right lilt of drama. They were eating it up.

Picking up another potato, Cynthia remembered her own mother reading to her from that same book. When she had been old enough to read for herself, she had taken the worn, red Childcraft volume outside with her. Mustard flowers grew as tall as she in the family walnut grove. She had made hiding places among the yellow blooms and dreamed of living in a butter-bean tent and having a calico cat and a chocolate dog. Sometimes she’d lain back and stared up at the blue sky and wondered what it would be like to eat warm animal crackers and drink hot chocolate in a cozy English kitchen.

Todd left the couch and sat among his LEGOs, an architect with a vision. Yesterday, he had invited Dynah to join him. Rather than decline, she sat down beside him cross-legged and began putting red and blue plastic pieces together. Cricket left her beloved crayons and tried to join them, but Todd, ever territorial, ordered her away. It only took a few tender words from Dynah to have him enlisting his sister’s help in an expanded project.

Cynthia liked the young woman. She felt drawn to Dynah’s easy, loving manner, which seemed to bring out the best in both children. Even Arnold had fallen in love with Dynah. The old dog was lying with his head on her feet right now.

Cutting the potatoes, she dropped them into a pot and added water. Putting them on the stove, she turned the burner to high. The leg of lamb was browning nicely. The peach cobbler was cooling. The salad was tossed and covered with clear wrap in the refrigerator, and the dressing was made. She’d change her clothes, freshen up, and then set the table.

Rinsing her hands, Cynthia dried them and hung the towel on the oven handle. The children laughed again. Dynah was laughing also. She was so young and pretty, her blue eyes bright and clear, unshadowed by her situation. Cynthia marveled.

How would I feel if I were carrying the child of a man who raped me? A man I couldn’t even identify?

Dynah looked so at peace. And she had brought that peace to Jim as well.

What was it about Dynah Carey that had broken down the wall that had surrounded her husband for so long? Cynthia felt as much in awe of her as her children did. The girl had come to Jim for help and brought with her redemption. Cynthia would ever be thankful for that. So why did she feel so . . . detached?

Jim would be home soon. She wondered how his meeting with Elizabeth Chambers had gone this afternoon and why he had decided the telephone call hadn’t been enough.

“Dynah, would you please keep an eye on the potatoes while I freshen up? Jim should be home soon.”

Dynah smiled in quick response and closed the book. “I’ll set the table for you.”

“Oh, would you? That would be nice. There are some linen tablecloths in the china hutch. Cricket, show Dynah the good china. We’ll use that and the crystal glasses this evening. The silver is in the middle drawer.”

Todd glanced up from the hospital he was building. “Is it your birthday, Dynah?”

“No . . .”

“Dynah’s going home tomorrow,” Cynthia said. They had to know sooner rather than later.

Both children put up an immediate protest. “Why can’t you live with us, Dynah?” Cricket said.

“My mom and dad are expecting me home, sweetheart.”

“They can come visit.”

“I’m sure her mommy and daddy miss her every bit as much as I’d miss you,” Cynthia told her daughter. “And Dynah will come back and see us. Won’t you?”

“I’d love to.”

Cynthia walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. Distracted and depressed, she sat at her vanity table and loosened and brushed her hair. She tried to analyze what was bothering her. In the past three days, their lives had been turned upside down and inside out. Yet, on thinking about it, she didn’t care about the outward changes that would come from the decisions Jim was making. It was the change of heart that made her anxious.

Something chewed at her sense of security, some niggling apprehension. And guilt.

“Hi,” Jim said from the doorway.

She glanced up sharply, relieved to see him. He still made her heart jump. She rose as he entered, and he took her in his arms and kissed her. It wasn’t the usual casual peck of greeting but one of hunger and promise. She leaned into him, clinging, relishing the moment. Seldom in the past few years had he come home in such a mood. After a long moment, he drew back, his fingers lightly combing through her hair. “I love you,” he said, eyes warm, expression clear of tension. She hadn’t realized how much the stress had affected him until it was gone.

Those three words still had the power to reduce her to tears. How had she ever been so lucky as to have won a man like Jim Wyatt? Reaching up, she touched his face, loving him with every particle of her being. She couldn’t speak.

“You look a little down,” Jim said. “You okay?”

She lifted her shoulders slightly, unable to explain, not sure she wanted to diagnose her feelings. Perhaps it was best not to examine some things too closely. You might find corruption. She went back into his arms, her head resting against his chest so she could hear the steady, solid beat of his heart.

Oh, God, have I been wrong? Have I been wrong all along?

She withdrew, crushing the traitorous thought, afraid of where it might lead. “Dinner should be ready.”

Jim knew something was wrong, but he didn’t press her. “I could smell the leg of lamb when I came in. And peach cobbler, too, I hear. Dynah said you’ve been busy all afternoon.” He loosened his tie and headed for the walk-in closet.

She followed him. “You like her, don’t you, Jim?”

“Very much. Don’t you?”

“She’s like a little sister,” she said truthfully, gripped by a terrible sadness. She knew she could talk to Dynah, and yet she had refrained. Why? She had seen proof that this young woman would cast no stones and bear no grudges. She was like a sweet fragrance in the house, an open window that brought in fresh air and sunlight.

And she’s leaving tomorrow.

Cynthia’s throat closed at the thought.

Dinner turned out to be a quiet, glum affair. Neither Todd nor Cricket was very hungry, both obsessing about losing their newfound playmate. Even the peach cobbler with a dab of whipped cream failed to raise their spirits. Usually Cynthia had to tell them to slow down and not be in such a hurry to rush back to their play. Tonight, Jim had to ask them to leave the table. When they still resisted, he bribed them.

“There’s half an hour of sunlight left before you two have to get ready for bed. What do you say I challenge you both to a game of soccer?”

It was an offer neither could refuse. To have their father play with them was a delight beyond anything.

Grinning, Dynah rose and began gathering dishes.

“I’ll do them,” Cynthia said quickly. “You go rest.”

“You cooked. It’s only fair I clean up.”

Cynthia busied herself with finding containers for the leftovers. She glanced out the window several times, smiling as she watched Jim and the children competing for the black-and-white ball.

Dynah finished putting the rinsed dishes into the washer and turned to her. “Cynthia, thank you for taking me in.”

“Nonsense. It was Jim who helped you.”

“You opened the way for him.”

Cynthia didn’t know what to say to that. She had opened the door to this girl, and her life was never going to be the same. Because of Dynah, Jim had made a decision that would change everything, most of all him. Was she happy about it? Part of her rejoiced, while another part was afraid. It was the fear she didn’t want to dissect.

Dynah sensed there was something troubling Cynthia Wyatt. The last thing she wanted to do was add to the woman’s distress, but she knew some things had to be addressed before she left. “You have more influence than you realize,” she said, fully aware how quickly things could change if Cynthia wanted it so. A woman could be the wind beneath a man’s sails or a gale to send him into uncharted waters. She could be an anchor in stormy seas, or she could let him drift onto the rocks.

“Jim has always done what he felt he had to do.” Cynthia turned away, hoping Dynah would leave it at that.

She didn’t. She couldn’t. “It’s easy to see how much you both love each other. Jim said the other evening you’ve supported him in everything.”

In everything. Cynthia closed her eyes tightly, her stomach tightening. “It was never my idea that he perform abortions. He did it because of what happened to his sister.”

“Were you against it?”

“I didn’t think about it.” She hadn’t dared. Wasn’t a wife’s job to support her husband and not fight against him? Turning, she looked at Dynah, resenting the question. “I was for Jim. That’s all.”

Dynah looked into Cynthia’s eyes and wanted to weep for her. Cynthia turned away again, stacking containers and opening the refrigerator. She shoved them in heedlessly and let the door swing shut as she straightened. She faced Dynah again, anger stirring. “I find it rather amazing that you would dare stand in judgment after all we’ve done for you.”

Dynah shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m not judging you, Cynthia.”

“But you think I was wrong, don’t you? You think I should have spoken up.” Stepping past her, she reached for the dishcloth. “Well, I think you should pack.” She began wiping down the counter Dynah had already wiped down. Clutching the cloth, she found herself alone in the kitchen. Leaning on the counter, she shut her eyes, ashamed.

The truth was, she had never allowed herself to think too deeply on the issue of abortion. She had always been against it until Jim had explained another side. Then she had been for it for his sake. She had chosen to close her eyes and ears and mind to all sides but his. It was too complex an issue, too volatile, too sensitive to discuss. And after all, wasn’t it a matter of personal choice? Everyone said so, didn’t they? The newspapers, magazines, television. From the president of the United States on down the line.

She hadn’t wanted to think about it too much or look too closely, not when the love of her life was so intimately involved. She couldn’t bear to think he might be wrong. It had been easier to follow his lead rather than try to pull him in another direction. He had been so convinced he was doing right. She had chosen not to question him.

Oh, God, why didn’t I? Was I afraid he wouldn’t love me anymore?

She had only seen the smallest measure of anguish he had suffered in taking the course he had. She hadn’t guessed the depth of it, had never dreamed of the battle going on inside him, the sense of shame and despair he had lived with for the past four years. And then the dam had broken three nights ago. She had never seen her husband weep as he had then. Now he had made a complete U-turn in his thinking and his life.

And she was falling into step again, saying nothing, accepting.

Cynthia went into the living room, away from the windows looking into the backyard, and sat down. Her chest was so tight she could hardly breathe.

Maybe if she had said something in the beginning, maybe if she had given even the smallest hint of warning, she could have saved him all the suffering. Maybe if she had reminded him of why he had worked so hard to become a doctor in the first place. Maybe if she had suggested other ways to help women facing crisis pregnancies besides aborting their babies.

Oh, God, oh, God, I shared in it.

It was too late now. They would both have to live with their sins: Jim for his actions, her for her inaction, her silence and omission.

The sliding-glass door banged open as the children came inside and charged down the hall for their baths. Todd was old enough to manage for himself, but Cynthia could hear her daughter calling for Dynah. She was glad for it. She wanted to sit here in the solitude of the living room and nurse the wounds that were opening with every thought.

“Honey?”

She tried to smile at her husband, but her mouth trembled as he entered the room. He studied her for a moment. When she couldn’t hold his gaze, he sat down in the chair facing her and leaned forward, hands loosely clasped between his knees.