Tears in a Bottle

by Sylvia Bambola

  “Are you crying?”

  “Yes,” he said softy, “for joy, Maggie. For joy. This is God’s miracle, and I’m just so full of joy.”

  Maggie wiped at her eyes. “I guess it’s contagious. By the way, what are you doing in your office on a Sunday night? Don’t tell me the recovering workaholic has fallen off the wagon.”

  “Your special delivery. I’ve been looking it over for the past several days. I brought it home with me, but it was so disturbing I couldn’t sleep last night and thought about it all day today. Finally, I decided to maybe try and work on some ideas, so I came in.”

  “What ideas?”

  “Well, since Dr. Newly’s dead, Adam’s testimony about the killing of that live baby shouldn’t be too hard for him and would go a long way in alerting the public about what’s happening in these clinics. People have to know that babies are being murdered both in utero and out, then sold for their parts.”

  “He won’t testify. He was adamant about that. He won’t let his name be used in any way. The only thing we’ve got are copies of some purchase orders. I made you a set and mine is tucked away in a safe place, but that’s all we’ve got—copies—not even originals.”

  “All the more reason we need Adam. There’s no convincing him?”

  “No.” Maggie could hear an exasperated sigh on the other end. “And I gave him my word we would protect his anonymity.”

  “Then we’ll have to do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Take this story to the media.”

  12

  MAGGIE SAT IN HER swivel chair watching the pouring rain create miniature tributaries down the windowpane. Behind her, on the desk, was a mountain of paper that resembled Kilimanjaro. She just wasn’t up to the climb. She had at least a week’s worth of work, and though it was Monday morning and she usually felt ready to take on the world, this morning she felt sluggish. She was tired from not sleeping, tired of this incessant rain, tired of being apart from Kirt.

  The realization that she was finally going to marry had kept her up most of the night. And just when she was getting used to the idea and was about to doze off, she began thinking about that other matter, the one concerning Solutions Clinic and Dorianna Gray Cosmetics and Second Chance Foundation.

  She hoped Kirt’s suggestion to take the copies of the POs to 50/50 was the correct one. Was this the vehicle God could best use? Kirt knew one of the producers personally and said they would get a fair shake, that 50/50 covered both sides of an issue, tried to give both viewpoints. But Maggie wasn’t so sure…not without Adam’s testimony. They might have only one shot at this, and she didn’t want to mess it up. She had been praying that the Lord would open the door He wanted them to walk through, that He would use this piece to not only save the lives of the unborn and their mothers, but to expose the abortion industry. Touch hearts and lives with truth.

  When the phone rang, she spun her chair around and picked up the receiver. She was facing Kilimanjaro now, and she groaned.

  “I’ll go public.”

  “What? Who is this?”

  “I said I’ll talk. But I name the time and place. I call all the shots.”

  Maggie’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Adam? Adam Bender?” The voice sounded so strange, so far away. She heard him cough, then moan as though he were in pain. “Are you all right?”

  “As all right as can be expected, considering that last night could have been my last night on earth.”

  “Are you serious? What happened?”

  “Two heavyweights, and I mean that literally and figuratively, took me for a little ride. They wanted to ask me some questions, the most important one being who I gave all those POs to. They tried taking me up Hunter Mountain. I don’t think they were planning on driving me back.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “Long story, but let’s just say bodies do bounce, but not like rubber balls.”

  “You jumped from the car?” Maggie was up on her feet now, pacing the room.

  “It wasn’t too bad. All that rain made the ground soft. I think that’s what saved my life…no, I’m sure of it.”

  “Don’t you think that God may have had just a little bit to do with the fact that you’re still breathing?” She could hear Adam chuckle, then moan with pain. “How badly hurt are you?”

  “I’m pretty banged up. May have a broken rib or two, and my ankle is seriously sprained.”

  “I’ll call 911, then an ambulance. Tell me where you are.”

  “No. I don’t want anyone to know my whereabouts, not yet. I want you to contact a reporter or news commentator, I don’t care, just make sure you can trust him. Tell him you have a big story, complete with an eyewitness who’ll do an interview. I figure once I’ve done that, it’ll be too late for damage control. It won’t matter anymore who has those POs. I’ll let you know where I am after you’ve set everything up. But for now, I’m staying undercover. I don’t mind telling you I’m scared.”

  Maggie sat back down in her chair and began praying for Adam. “It so happens we already have something in the works with 50/50. Do you have any objections to them?”

  “No.”

  “After I set up the interview, how can I reach you?”

  “Make the interview for tomorrow, twelve noon. At 10:30 A.M. I’ll call you and give you directions.”

  “What about your wife? She must be frantic. Can I call her? Do anything?”

  “No. I called her last night and told her to go to her parents’. They shouldn’t find her there.”

  Maggie was on her feet again. “Okay, I’ll wait for your call. Just tell me this…do they know about me, about the Life Center? Do I need to be careful?”

  “No, they don’t know, and yes, you need to be careful. These people are dangerous. If they have the slightest inkling that you have the papers, they’ll be all over you like white on rice.”

  “Thanks, Adam. Thank you for not telling them about me. By the way, how did you get to a phone?”

  “I had my cell phone with me. Those bozos never checked!”

  Dr. Thor Emerson stripped off his bloody surgical gloves and tossed them into the waste can. This was going to be a beaut of a day, he could tell. It was barely 11 A.M. and he had already done fifteen abortions. That was one every eight minutes. Two more girls were in stirrups in the remaining procedure rooms, and Clara had just told him the waiting room was packed. No doubt she hoped to inspire him to a new Olympic-level performance. What would make her happy? A six-minute job? He cursed his soon-to-be replacement who was off somewhere on vacation. He had to get out of this pressure cooker, then maybe he’d take a vacation too.

  He watched a young woman, Adam’s replacement, bounce down the hall carrying two bottles of DMEM, the sterile media she would use to preserve the eyes of the sixteen-week fetus he had just aborted. This time Thor wasn’t taking any chances. He had ordered Clara to keep all POs under lock and key.

  Since Thor had spoken with Louie, Adam Bender had not been far from his mind. He wondered what Louie planned to do, then realized he didn’t want to know. How did he get into this mess? How had things gotten so out of hand? One minute a friend was loaning him money to open up another clinic and pay off some gambling debts, and the next minute that same friend was calling the shots. There had to be a way to get free—to get out from under—to break from Louie. Is it possible to break from Louie?

  “Your patients are backing up!” Clara said, coming toward him, huffing with exasperation, her face red.

  Thor glanced down the hall in the opposite direction. From where he stood, he could see the entrance door. What was there to keep him from walking straight down the hall and out that door?

  “Doctor!”

  “Which procedure room next? Two or three?”

  “First you have a call. I tried to tell him you couldn’t be disturbed. That you were up to your eyeballs in patients, but you think that stopped him? Some people just don’t—”

  �
��Who’s on the line, Clara?”

  “Louie. Louie something, I didn’t get his name.”

  Thor brushed passed Clara and into her office. “What’s up, Louie?”

  “You have an extraordinary office manager. I like her. I could use someone of her caliber myself.” Thor listened quietly while Louie chuckled. “But I won’t keep you. Business is business, and this is an intrusion. I just wanted to tell you that my men…well, I hate to say it, but they bungled the job. I may need to take punitive action, send them out of town for a while—maybe permanently. I haven’t decided yet. But I think it’s imperative you do some damage control on your end.”

  “Like what?”

  “Incinerate your files, at least all the files on Dorianna Gray. Delete any computer records. That way, when the POs show up you can say they’re a forgery—those cowardly pro-lifers attempting to discredit your Brockston clinic.”

  “What makes you so sure the POs are going to show up?”

  “I’ve received a tip that 50/50 is about to do a taping on a very hot issue, and that the interviewee is someone who’s in hiding and afraid for his life.”

  “Adam Bender.”

  “An astute guess.”

  Thor looked at the matronly woman planted in the doorway, her arms folded across her body. With the thrust of his chin, he indicated to Clara that he wanted her to leave. But she didn’t budge. “Isn’t there any way you can stop Adam?” Thor finally asked, glaring at his OM.

  “I’m not in the leg-breaking business, Thor. I’m an entrepreneur. Besides, no one knows where he is.”

  “And your associates? Anything they can do?”

  “It’s best that my associates never find out about this. Understand? They’re not as modern as I am. They still do business the old-fashioned way—with a heavy hand.”

  Thor wondered that Louie didn’t see the hypocrisy of those words. He reddened when he saw Clara’s eyes bore into his own. Already she knew too much about his business.

  “Thor? You still there?”

  Thor turned his back to Clara and cupped the phone. “Yes, I’m still here, Louie.”

  “Then I shall leave this safely in your hands? I can depend upon you to eradicate all paper trails?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have my gratitude. And it will show up in your mailbox in a few days.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  “Business is still business. Of course this doesn’t affect our friendship in any way. Your carelessness, I mean…the fact that I had to mop up your mess. After all, what are friends for?”

  Thor listened to Louie chuckle in that soft way of his and for the first time began to believe Teresa’s words, “A man like Louie doesn’t have any friends.”

  The news van bounced and swayed along the dirt road toward a hunting cabin deep in the woods. Large metallic-blue lettering identified the truck as belonging to 50/50. Inside, Maggie sat nervously watching the three-member TV crew talk amongst themselves. The fourth member, the driver, sat quietly behind the wheel, popping his gum and blowing bubbles. They all seemed incredibly unruffled, as though going to meet a friend for a picnic rather than a fugitive who feared for his life.

  She looked down at the folder she carried, then closed her eyes and prayed that the interviewer, a young man in his thirties, wouldn’t try to trivialize what he was about to hear. She wondered why the host of 50/50, Don Marlow, hadn’t come. Maybe he didn’t do fieldwork anymore.

  When the van pulled to a stop, the driver got out first, and Maggie noticed he held something in his hand, close to his leg. It took her a second to realize it was a revolver. Only after Adam Bender emerged from the cabin and spoke quietly with the driver did he put the revolver away and give the sign. Instantly, the others poured out of the van. The sound man carefully lifted his sensitive amplifiers, then a box of mikes. Maggie watched the cameraman struggle with a large duffel bag, two tripods, and a rack of lights. The young interviewer came over and grabbed the duffel bag.

  It took a moment for Maggie’s eyes to grow accustomed to the dim light inside the cabin. She looked around. She was standing in one large open room. A huge fireplace occupied one wall, and next to that was a small kitchen with a table and four chairs, then a sitting room. She saw Adam, in the corner, slumped in a plaid, overstuffed chair that had seen its day. He held his left side and took quick, shallow breaths. His shoes were off, and one of his ankles was purple and swollen to twice its size. She wondered if he hadn’t broken it.

  “You look terrible,” she said, walking over to the chair. “You should’ve let me bring a doctor.”

  Adam nodded. “Yeah. Maybe…maybe after the interview you can take me to the hospital? I’m feeling pretty miserable.”

  Maggie walked to the sink and filled a large glass with water then brought it over to Adam. “How did you find this place?”

  “Thanks.” Adam took the glass and brought it to his lips. “How did you know I was thirsty?”

  “Your lips; they’re dry.” She noticed he had clean clothes on, clothes that didn’t fit. “So…did you break in?”

  “This is my father-in-law’s hunting cabin. We go here all the time.”

  Maggie watched Adam turn pale and was afraid he was going to faint. “Can you do it? Will you be all right for the interview?”

  “When a man has a family to protect, he can do just about anything,” he said, wincing as he reached for the folder in Maggie’s hand.

  “Hello! This is Jim Carney from 50/50!”

  Thor had to hold the phone a few inches from his ear. He gave Clara a dirty look as she leaned against the door frame of her office. She had nabbed Thor just before he could go into procedure room three to do his thirty-first—or was it thirty-second?—abortion of the day. “It could mean publicity for the clinic,” she had said. “Free publicity.”

  “Dr. Thor Emerson?” the voice boomed.

  “Yes,” Thor answered wearily.

  “Jim Carney from 50/50. We just finished an interview with Adam Bender, and we’d like to give you a chance to rebut.”

  “Rebut what?”

  “His claim that you’ve been selling baby parts and that he has witnessed the murder of a live baby in your Brockston clinic.”

  “I don’t care what he says, the guy’s lying.”

  “Then you won’t grant an interview?

  “Why should I? These allegations are completely false.”

  “Well, Dr. Emerson, regarding the selling of baby parts, we do have copies of purchase orders from Second Chance Foundation, Dorianna Gray Cos—”

  “Purchase orders can be forged.”

  “And why would anyone want to forge them?”

  “You’re the reporter. Why don’t you try to find out?”

  “Maybe you can help me, Dr. Emerson. Would you give it a shot? Tell me who in the world would want to forge purchase orders and stick them in your file cabinet.”

  “Who said they came from my file cabinet?”

  “Well…Adam claims these came from your office and he copied—”

  “How can he make copies of something that never existed?”

  “Why would he lie about a thing like that?”

  “How could I possibly know? But if you want, I’ll take a stab at it.”

  “Please do.”

  “I think the right-wing fundamentalists saw an opportunity to try to discredit the abortion industry in general and my clinic in particular, and used him.”

  “You’re saying this is all pro-life propaganda?”

  “Exactly. Now let me ask you a question. Did Adam contact you personally or did someone else?”

  “Well…actually it was someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Maggie Singer.”

  “From the Life Center?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “Maggie Singer, a right-wing fundamentalist antiabortion bigot. I rest my case.” From the silence, Thor could tell he had confused the reporter. Finally, he he
ard Jim Carney clear his throat.

  “Just one more question. Adam was pretty banged up. He said two men kidnapped him and he was lucky to escape alive.”

  Thor forced a laugh. “It’s hard to believe Adam capable of eluding two men, unless he’s grown since he worked here. I mean, the Adam I knew came up to my armpit and could barely lift his briefcase. I don’t think he’s got what it takes to manage the type of escape he describes. Do you?”

  “And his injuries? How do you explain those?”

  “They’re extremists, these people. They’re capable of anything.”

  Carney cleared his throat again, then said, “Okay, thanks,” and hung up.

  As Thor replaced the phone, he heard clapping and turned to see Clara clapping and smiling.

  “Nicely done. Very nicely done.”

  As he walked by her, he had the strongest urge to belt her in the face.

  “I’m leaving, Clara. I’m taking the rest of the day off.” He saw the look of panic on her face and felt sweet revenge.

  “You can’t leave! What…what about all your patients? Who’s going to do the rest of the abortions?”

  “Why you are, Clara. You are.” Thor walked down the hall and right out of the building, leaving Clara with her mouth open and a waiting room full of nervous women.

  13

  TERESA EMERSON HOPED ERIC would understand when she told him the news. They’d have plenty of time during the trip home tomorrow to discuss it. Ever since she started her drive through Hunter Mountain, she’d been trying to think of the right words to say. She usually loved this ride, loved the beautiful forest of maple and birch, loved knowing that at the end of the trip she would be seeing her precious son. But this time she hardly looked at the scenery, and the anticipation of seeing Eric made a giant knot in her stomach. How did you tell an eleven-year-old that his parents were getting a divorce? That their one family was about to become two?

  She had read all the divorce books, had read all about how kids tend to blame themselves when their parents split up. What was she going to do? She didn’t want Eric taking on more guilt. He already had guilt enough. She knew all those years in boarding school had made him feel defective, unwanted, in the way. And he was, for Thor anyway. Not for her, and all her trying to make up for it in the summers couldn’t erase the fact that Eric had a father who didn’t love him. But how could Eric possibly understand that Thor was incapable of loving anyone?