The Atonement Child (41 page)

“You’re asking me to watch you die?”

“No, I’m asking you to live with me. I see the months ahead as being very precious. I intend to live them to the fullest and make the best use of them I can.” Her hand rested on her granddaughter’s head. “The Lord has always had His hand upon you, Dynah, from the instant of your conception and before that. I believe He has His hand in everything that’s happening right now.”

She patted Dynah’s shoulder. “Look at me, honey.” When she did, Evie smoothed away the tears from her granddaughter’s cheeks. “I know you have a lot of things to decide over the next few weeks, hard decisions to make.” Hannah had already told her they had an appointment with an adoption agency. She couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. “When all this is passed and behind you, you’ll need to get away. You’ll need to be active so you won’t think about what’s happened every minute.” She cupped her cheek tenderly. “I want you to know you have a home waiting for you in Oregon. You’ll have work to keep you occupied. You’ll have time to heal and decide what you want to do with your life. And you’ll have an income so you’ll be independent when you do know. I’ll pay you the going rate for a live-in nurse.”

Dynah shook her head. “I won’t take any money, Granny.”

“Oh, yes, you will. It’s the one condition I’m attaching to this. Don’t argue with your elders, Dynah. God is good. He makes provisions for those who love Him. And you have loved Him since you could walk and talk.” She gently stroked the fine silken tendrils of blonde hair back from her granddaughter’s temple with a trembling hand. “Let Him provide for you.”

Several weeks after her grandmother went home, Dynah took a long walk along Ocean Avenue. She’d needed to get out of the house, away from the tension between her mother and father. They spoke no harsh words to one another, but neither did a tender one pass their lips. They moved around one another cautiously, as though one brush of contact would ignite the final battle and obliterate them both.

Oh, Lord, why do people retreat to their private citadels? Why do they shoot their cannons from a distance rather than sit at the peace table and speak the truth of what’s in their hearts? They love each other and hurt one another with every breath they take.

It was cool this morning, a light fog rolling back as the sun burned through. San Francisco’s weather had improved over the past few years. Global warming.

As she walked down the street, Dynah thought about the baby, weighing alternatives while trying to test her feelings. Everyone assumed she was going to give the baby up for adoption. True, she had spoken with an attorney who specialized in adoptions. Vera Adams seemed sensitive to her situation. Within a week, she had several families applying to adopt the baby. Dynah had already received several letters and an album of family pictures from two, each doing their best to reassure her of the good home they could provide her child.

The baby moved within her. Heart aching, she laid her hand over the spot, feeling the prick of tears. It shouldn’t matter so much, should it? This child had been forced on her against her will. Why should she be so encumbered?

Oh, Lord, how long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

She could smell the sea and realized how far she had walked. Her mother would be worried.

On the way back, Dynah thought of Joe. She wished she could talk to him again. He always had such a cool presence of mind, but he hadn’t called for six days. Was he annoyed with her or just busy? She wondered what he was doing at that moment. Conducting another Bible study near the student union? Working? Classes were over, so he should have more time on his hands. Maybe he was looking for a full-time job.

Craving his companionship, she had almost called him last night but decided against it. Joe was kind and tenderhearted. He had also proven himself a faithful friend. She had to remind herself that there were limits to what one could ask in the name of friendship. Joe had a life of his own, and she had intruded upon it long enough.

An odd twinge gripped Dynah’s abdomen. She stopped, alarmed. This was something different from the false labor she had endured over the past two weeks. The tightening increased until she moaned.

This is it! Oh, God, this is it! It’s early! I’m not ready!
And she was still a mile from home.

Calm down!
For goodness’ sake. Did she think the baby was going to fall out on the pavement? Not likely. She giggled, remembering some of the humorous remarks her Lamaze instructor had made over the course of weeks.

She panted softly as she continued to walk at a leisurely pace. After a moment, she let out her breath. Odd that she should feel so calm now. All the waiting was over. Ready or not, here she comes! Ten minutes later, another contraction started. Dynah paused this time, pretending interest in the garden of one of the neighbors. Panting softly, she glanced at her watch.

Like menstrual cramps, her mother had said. Not quite.

Why on earth had she walked so far?

Four contractions later, she reached home. She was hot and perspiring. “Mom!”

No answer.

“Mommy!”

A note was on the kitchen counter. Panting through another contraction, Dynah picked it up with a shaking hand and read,
Gone shopping. Back in two hours. Love, Mom.

Dynah punched in a number and asked for Dr. Wyatt. “He’s in surgery this morning, Dynah,” the nurse told her. “I don’t expect him back until two.”

“I’m in labor,” Dynah said, glancing at the kitchen clock when another contraction started. “The contractions are seven minutes apart.”

“I’ll notify the hospital you’re on your way.”

On her way? How could she get there? She’d have to take a taxi. Money. Oh, Lord. She didn’t have any money. She dialed Joe and then put the telephone down on the third ring. Why did she always think of Joe when a crisis came? What was she going to say? Drop everything, Joe, and come drive me to the hospital? He was an hour away, and he had his own life. It was time she got on with hers.

She moaned and began pacing nervously. She needed a shower. She needed to pack. She needed to calm down!

As she rinsed out her hair beneath the warm spray, the portable telephone rang on the sink counter. It had stopped by the time she finished rinsing off. Shutting off the water, she opened the glass door and reached for a beach towel with bright tropical fish designs. Bath towels weren’t big enough anymore.

The telephone rang again. Picking it up, she punched the button. “Hello?”

“Did you call me a while ago?”

Joe. Oh, thank You, Jesus. Thank You. Thank You!
“Yes.”

“Three rings and you hang up? What gives?”

“I wanted to talk to you and then thought better of it.”

“Thought better of it?”

“Don’t be miffed. I just thought better of running to you with every little thing that happens.”

“You hear me complaining?”

“No, but . . .” She sighed.

“Why didn’t you pick up a minute ago?”

“I was wet.” Oh, Lord, it was starting again.

“Wet?”

“In the shower,” she said tersely.

There was a pause. “What little thing is happening?”

She gave a laugh. “Oh, nothing much.” The contraction built and intensified.

“Are you panting?”

“Hang on a minute, Joe.” She slapped her hand over the receiver and concentrated on her breathing.
Oh, Lord, oh, Lord, oh, Lord . . .

“Dynah!” She heard him utter a short, foul word, and there was a thud.

She paced the bathroom, puffing. After a long moment, she let her breath out and lifted the receiver. “Sorry, Joe.”

“You’re in labor, aren’t you? What’re you doing home?”

“Calm down, Joe.” She giggled. She couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh at the ludicrous picture of her marching back and forth in the bathroom with a fish-covered beach towel around herself.

“Stop laughing and get to the hospital!”

“As soon as Mom gets home from shopping.”

“Shopping? Why is she shopping?”

“I think we needed groceries.” She laughed again. She couldn’t seem to stop. Maybe her mother was out buying baby booties and diapers. Seemed appropriate. Perfect timing.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

She giggled. “Nope.”

He uttered a short, succinct word and hung up.

“Joe?” She stared at the receiver and then punched his number quickly, knowing if she didn’t, he’d be on his way out the door. “For pete’s sake!” One . . . Two . . . Three . . . Four . . . “Pick it up! Pick it up!”

“Hang on. I’m on my way.”

“I’m not a baby, Joe!”

“No, you’re having one!” He slammed the receiver down.

He didn’t answer this time. Frustrated, Dynah held the phone in both hands and shook it, growling under her breath. She dressed and packed and carried her overnight case downstairs.

The back door from the garage opened, and her mother came in, arms loaded with groceries.

Hannah smiled. “Hi, honey. Have a nice walk?” She noticed the overnight case and stopped. Looking from it to Dynah’s face, she felt her body go cold. “Oh!” Hurrying into the kitchen, she dumped the bags onto the counter. “Two more bags to unload, and we’ll be on our way,” she said, rushing out to the car. “How long ago did it start?” she called back.

“Four hours.”

“Four hours? Oh, Lord! How far apart now?”

“Five minutes.”

“Lord . . . Lord . . . Lord . . . Lord . . .” Hannah raced past, dumping two more bags on the counter. A carton of eggs spilled out onto the floor. “Oh, blast!”

“I have to put this note on the front door for Joe,” Dynah said. “He’s on his way over. Unless he’s been stopped for a ticket.”

“Did you call your dad?”

Dynah blushed. Truth was, she hadn’t even thought of calling her father. “I’ll do it right now.”

“Never mind. I’ll call him later.” Hannah picked up the soggy carton of smashed eggs and dumped it into the sink. “Here. Give me the note for Joe. You go get in the car.”

Dynah watched her mother darting hither and yon, clearly getting more nervous by the minute. She was always testy when she was stressed. “Maybe I should drive.”

“Very funny. You can’t even fit behind the wheel.”

The hospital staff was ready with a wheelchair and admission papers. As she was rolled down the antiseptic corridor, the accompanying attendant asked questions and made notations on the form on her clipboard. Recent fluid and food intake? Onset of labor? Bleeding? Exposure to infectious disease? Progress and character of contractions?

As soon as she was in a room, undressed and in a hospital gown, her vital signs were checked, as were her eyes, ears, nose, throat, lymph nodes, and breasts.

“Things are moving right along,” the nurse said, glancing at her watch as another contraction started.

Dr. Wyatt entered the room smiling. “D-day,” he said, coming up alongside the bed. He saw by Dynah’s face that she was in the midst of a contraction. He glanced at the nurse.

“Four minutes apart. One-minute duration. Typical.”

He nodded. As Dynah relaxed, he leaned down and placed his stethoscope on her abdomen, listening carefully. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong and fast,” he said with a smile. Hannah moved closer, standing guard on the opposite side of the bed while he palpated the fundus and identified the fetal presenting part. The baby’s head was engaged in perfect position for normal birth. He gave the nurse instructions to start an IV infusion.

“You’re doing fine, Dynah. When the next contraction comes, I’m going to do a pelvic examination to determine cervical dilation and effacement. Try to relax. All right?”

Relax? Was he kidding?

When it was over, Jim removed his gloves and smiled down at her. “You’re about halfway there.”

Hannah looked noticeably relieved.

Jim lingered, talking with Dynah between contractions while observing her carefully. He cared about this baby with an intensity he hadn’t felt since his own children were born. Over the past few months, since Dynah had come to his home in Mill Valley, he had spent every spare minute boning up on obstetrical procedures and speaking with medical colleagues to whom he had referred pregnant patients in the past.

Two weeks ago, on Cynthia’s suggestion, he had spent a day in a birthing center. The relaxed atmosphere had been a startling contrast to this bustling hospital setting. One of the things he had noted was the constant reassuring and encouraging presence of the birth facilitator. He intended to play that role for Dynah. “Try to rest as much as you can,” he said, patting her arm.

Looking across the bed, he smiled at Hannah. “You’re about to become a grandmother.”

Hannah smiled back at him, though she felt far from happy about it. Under other circumstances, she would have rejoiced, but how could she when this child was the product of an act of violence upon her daughter? She brushed tendrils of hair back from Dynah’s face. “Would you like some water, honey?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

Fine.
What an innocuous word. She saw the uncertainty. Dynah didn’t know what to do. The day had come, and no decision had been made. She wanted to reassure her and tell her she didn’t even have to lay eyes on the child if she didn’t want. She could make sure the baby was whisked away by a nurse. The attorney could see it was given to loving parents.