Intended for Harm

by C. S. Lakin

  Jake spotted them over by the metal merry-go-round, right where her note said they’d be. Even from where he parked the car he could hear Levi’s squeals of delight as Rachel spun the giant wheel and Levi and Dinah hung on to the bars acting for all the world like they would die if they fell off onto the sand. Before any of them had a chance to spot him, Jake stopped and leaned against an oak, hidden under leafy shadows, so he could watch unobtrusively. He wanted a moment to observe. So often he was running out the door or rushing to keep up with all the domestic duties awaiting him at home when he got off work. Although Rachel did an amazing job preparing dinner, straightening the house, and tackling the constant mounds of laundry, easing his burden.

  Such a refreshing change from the chaos that Leah had fomented by ignoring the menial tasks of parenting. Leah had shoved aside mundane chores, complaining that Jake was too particular or a neat freak, but Rachel seemed to thrive in order and efficiency. Not that he expected her to do so much, but she was the kind of girl who was eager to please. Sometimes it irritated him, made him feel stupid and incompetent, but he had to admit he needed her help. Maybe she was right and he was expecting too much from himself. Four children were not easy for a single working man to juggle.

  After the divorce was final, Jake vowed that he would find a way to manage on his own. He had married Leah on a whim, really. Swept away by her beauty, by her raging spontaneity. His impulsive, headstrong, defiant decision to break the chains of his self-disciplined and cautious lifestyle had cost him. He was still reeling in pain and confusion, as if he’d been blindsided by an eighteen-wheeler that sent him spinning off the highway to crash into a rocky ravine. Every bone felt broken and his heart crushed. He thought he had loved her but he wasn’t sure anymore if he knew what love was. Or if it mattered.

  To Leah, love was passion. To Jake, it meant commitment and responsibility. Leah was an enigma he figured he’d never truly understand. She had carried, birthed, and nurtured these children. And then just walked away. He’d looked at her behavior from every angle, turned it every which way in his mind and couldn’t comprehend it. At least his anger had stopped raging, had turned more into pity and even worry. Although he guessed he shouldn’t worry all that much over her. Leah plowed her way through the barricades of life, crashing through them, splintering wood and hearts and flinging the pieces to the four winds. He was still picking up the pieces of wreckage, wondering if he’d ever be done, find them all. He thought about Simon’s screaming fit last night, when Jake had told him to shut off the TV and go to bed. The way Simon had sworn at him, sounding just like Leah, with the same curl of his lip. It had given him chills seeing her scowl on his face.

  Jake pushed away the onslaught of hurt seeking to mow him down. He walked over to the playground and Levi saw him first. Rachel turned, shielded the summer sun from her eyes, her hair lit up and almost iridescent, cascading around her shoulders. She smiled and waved, watched as his children slid off the merry-go-round and ran on their stubby legs to him. Jake gave them hugs and offered to push them on the swings, and as Rachel helped them up and strapped Dinah in the toddler swing, Jake caught her scent. Some implication of perfume mixed with a sliver of sun and mowed grass and the richness of earth and everything alive and growing.

  He recalled her scent that night he met her in the church, the soothing odor of sacred incense, and it made him think of that Bible story he’d heard way back in Sunday school. After God had caused the flood that wiped out his world and Noah had given God a burnt offering. The soothing aromatic scent that set the Destroyer’s heart at ease and made him vow never to annihilate man with a flood ever again. A restful aroma.

  Jake pushed Levi, who yelled for him to send him higher, higher. Rachel, beside him, pushed Dinah with a gentle rocking, and he was surprised to hear her sing. Dinah sat relaxed, her small arms dangling off the sides of the swing, her head swaying to Rachel’s song. A deep amazement came over him as he realized the gift in Rachel’s touch and voice. Dinah rarely ever let anyone touch her. She squirmed and fussed her way through life. But since Rachel’s arrival, Dinah had changed. Rachel’s actions reminded him of the way certain trainers handled vicious animals, talking to them in quiet, even tones, leading them in a calm, steady manner, with reassurance and confidence. Earning their trust over time. He saw now how Rachel had been working in like manner with Simon, the patience she showed even when he crouched ready to attack, teeth bared and claws extended.

  He realized how invaluable she had become to him, to all of them. He needed her. The thought of losing her made his heart quicken its beating, a startling realization that both shocked and disturbed him. He had sworn he would remain unattached, but he could love her—this beautiful, calm, steady woman ten years his junior, who showed none of the impudent immaturity Leah had demonstrated. Rachel was more like a strong stately tree—like the ones dotting the park around him—a tree with boughs capable of supporting any weight without buckling or cracking, with thick foliage providing a canopy of shade and protection from harsh winds and rain. He sensed her roots growing deep into the soil of life, drawing up life-giving nutrients and water in steady fashion. And she took trouble and morphed it the way the leaves absorbed raw sunlight and converted it into practical energy.

  He hadn’t a clue what Rachel felt for him; if she felt anything at all, she hid it well. He admired her professional demeanor and the kindness she showed him. But he didn’t want her pity. Yet, in that moment, he had to know, stricken by a subtle panic that lapped against his heart.

  He turned and watched her, let it be obvious he was taking her in, and he was—opening a door and taking her into his heart, testing how it felt to have her wander in, to his private garden, the place he’d kept locked and barred for so long. She felt his stare and met his eyes. Her hands dropped from the swing and Dinah’s pendulum motion slowed. Jake drowned out Levi’s demands and waited. For what, he was unsure. Rachel took Jake’s hand and led him over to the nearest bench. Strangely, his children grew quiet in their swings, as if sensing something portentous.

  “What is it, Jake?” Rachel asked as they sat down. “Is everything all right?”

  He studied her face, her concerned expression, the warmth and compassion in her eyes, her calm hands covering his as if in protection. He wanted to be direct, ask her what she thought of him, but then shivered with fear. She probably thought he was an idiot, a loser. How could she not—seeing the foolish choices he had made, the silly hope he had clung to, thinking Leah would come back. He was damaged goods. Maybe Leah’s downward tumble had been all his fault. Maybe he would screw up every relationship he attempted. Did he dare ask? Did he dare think? Did he—

  Rachel tipped her head and smiled. Jake could tell she understood, as if she’d overheard his conflicting self-condemning thoughts. “Your children need a mother, Jake.” She squeezed his hand a little tighter and he moved a strand of hair from her face. Her open mouth mesmerized him and he suddenly ached to kiss her, as if he had been waiting to kiss her for an eternity. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

  With uncontrollable urgency, he put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her to him and in that kiss surrendered all his pain and hurt and need. He sensed Rachel’s initial surprise and resistance, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, he joined her mouth and felt energized, resuscitated, her giving him life from her rich storehouse, her vibrancy and health and youth. Almost as if she had revitalized him, resurrected him from an unfortunate death, given him a second chance. This time, he whispered, this time to do it better, to do it right.

  When he pulled back he looked at her flushed face, her eyes full of sincerity and affection. He marveled at the peace he felt, so different from how he had felt kissing Leah, none of the wild abandon and engulfing passion. Instead, Jake felt nourished, sated. Safe.

  Rachel ran a hand through his hair, glanced over at the children still in their swings, then brought her face close to his. “Jake, I believe God intended us to be toge
ther. I’ve been praying about us ever since the night we met. I’ve held back my feelings, and I have some fears. But I’ve grown to love your children, every one of them. And they need a mother to care for them—in addition to their father’s love. I am just not sure—”

  Jake put his finger over her lips and she closed them. “Shh. Don’t say any more.” This moment felt so perfect, he didn’t want to ruin it. He knew he had to face her concerns but he didn’t want to hear them. Not now. His body screamed for physical contact, for her hands on him, to feel her skin. A raging hunger flared but he contained it. He forced his will to turn off the images that began to consume his mind because he knew they would only agonize him, images of intimacy he had never once allowed his mind to conjure up all these months. She was too close, too beautiful. His need for her turned painful and he abruptly stood.

  “Jake.” Rachel reached up and held his arm, got up from the bench, and swung him around. She fell into his arms and that was all it took. In the bucolic park surroundings, with the hot summer sun beating down on his shoulders, he felt her body against his, so right, so perfect.

  As he lost himself in their kiss, her offering soothed his soul and gave him rest. His heart did not berate or warn him. And like a stick of incense, together they burned.

  1981

  You Make My Dreams Come True

  What I want, you’ve got

  And it might be hard to handle

  But like the flame that burns the candle

  The candle feeds the flame

  What I’ve got’s full stock of thoughts

  And dreams that scatter

  You pull them all together

  And how, I can’t explain

  Well you make my dreams come true

  On a night when bad dreams become a screamer

  When they’re messin’ with the dreamer

  I can laugh it in the face

  Twist and shout my way out

  And wrap yourself around me

  ‘Cause I ain’t the way that you found me

  I’ll never be the same

  Well you make my dreams come true

  I’m down on the daydream

  That sleepwalk should be over by now

  I know that you make my dreams come true

  —Hall and Oates

  Jake had insisted on the wheelchair.

  Rachel felt embarrassed by all the bother, with the emergency room attendant rolling one out to their car and helping her into it, as if she were an old lady. I’m just pregnant, she wanted to say, wave off the fuss. But Jake’s panicky eyes made her sigh and she acquiesced as he pushed her into the building through the double glass doors to the waiting room.

  She rested a hand on her belly and squinted as her head throbbed and nausea threatened to assail her. Throwing up in the hallway was not something she wanted to succumb to so she took deep, slow breaths. What was wrong with her? She had just seen her doctor last week, and he said everything was fine. The baby’s heartbeat was strong, her own weight gain ideal. Maybe it was something she ate—food poisoning? She had called Jake and he had rushed home from work to find her doubled over and dizzy out in the garden. It had taken her a moment for her fuzzed vision to clear, but as he helped her into the house, she nearly blacked out. Thankfully, all the children were in school, and before they sped to the hospital, he’d called and arranged for them all to go into after-school care.

  They didn’t speak as they waited for the doctor to look at the test results and return to the small examination room, with Jake gripping Rachel’s hand and squeezing it in reassurance from time to time. After an interminable wait, the doctor blew in, a gray-haired portly man all business and efficiency. His lack of a smile concerned her and turned her prayerful.

  “Well, Mrs. Abrams, it’s a good thing you came in.” He faced Jake. “Your wife has preeclampsia; the tests make that clear. Blood pressure is very high—one-fifty over one hundred, and protein is evident in the urine.”

  Dizziness assailed her again and she grabbed the sides of the exam table. The doctor steadied her with his hand.

  Fear laced Jake’s voice. “Preeclampsia? What is that? Will she be okay? What about the baby?”

  “No need to worry; we just have to monitor your wife carefully. About five percent of all pregnant women develop this condition, but we have to take care not to let it turn into full-blown eclampsia, which would be very dangerous. What she needs is bed rest and daily monitoring of her blood pressure. I will want to see her now at least twice a week until delivery. Unfortunately, the only real cure for this condition is giving birth, so we’ll have to be diligent over the next four months. ” He pulled out a pad from his white coat pocket and scribbled. “I’m writing a prescription for antihypertensive medication, along with magnesium supplements. Also a blood pressure kit, which the pharmacist will show you how to use. You can fill this in our pharmacy, or the nurse can call it in to one closer to your home.” He handed Jake the slip of paper.

  Jake exhaled a long breath. Rachel figured he had been holding it in without realizing.

  The dizziness subsided although Rachel still felt like throwing up. “Thank you, Doctor. Is it . . . did I do something, eat the wrong foods—?”

  “We don’t really know what causes this condition, Mrs. Abrams. And there’s nothing that can be done to prevent it. It occurs mostly in first pregnancies—although some get it every pregnancy. I think the statistic is around twenty or thirty percent recurrence. Unfortunately, the earlier the onset in the first pregnancy, the higher the risk of recurrence. Since you’re only at twenty-two weeks, you have a high chance of getting this again.”

  Jake bit his lip. “You said eclampsia is dangerous . . .”

  “Yes. If preeclampsia progresses into eclampsia, it could result in convulsions or a coma, even death.”

  Rachel gasped and laid her hands protectively over her stomach. “But is the baby okay?”

  The doctor finally smiled, but Rachel couldn’t tell if it was genuine or just pasted there to mollify her. Her heart raced wildly as he answered. “Your baby seems fine. As long as you take your pills and come see me as scheduled, we’ll keep this in check.” He patted her back and headed toward the door. “You can get dressed now, and I’ll see you next week.” He looked one last time at Jake. “Be sure to schedule her appointments at the front desk. I want to see her twice a week from here on out.”

  Rachel nodded as he left. Jake helped her down from the padded table and she felt him shake. “Jake, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  He studied her face. “I don’t know how you can be so calm. This is serious!”

  “But the doctor said this is pretty common. I’m sure he’s helped many women through it. Besides, God is watching over me and our baby.” She took Jake’s hand and laid it on her belly, atop the crinkly paper gown. “I just know this baby is going to be special—a blessing and healing to this family. You’ll see.”

  Jake stood with his hand resting on the small child growing there, the child they had conceived together. Rachel wondered how many times he had done this with Leah. Had he felt any connection to the life growing in her womb, each unwanted pregnancy, with Leah pushing him aside as if he did not belong in her private world of motherhood? Rachel wished she could talk with him about the awe-inspiring feeling that infused her, carrying this child, bringing new life into the world, wished he hadn’t grown hardened and tainted by his past.

  She recalled his stunned face when she’d told him she was pregnant. She knew the thought of another mouth to feed was unthinkable. The last thing he wanted. Yet, when he saw how happy she was, and after she had reassured him she could handle not only five but fifteen children with God’s help, his tense shoulders had relaxed. She understood his reticence, but this was their baby, and in a way a fresh start for Jake. Theirs was a child conceived in love, apart from deceit and manipulation and recklessness. Their child would emerge into the world drenched in adoration and warm light, cherished and wanted.


  To her surprise, Jake started to cry. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes, searching for something hidden inside her. Rachel brushed the tears aside as they slid down his face. “It’s going to be okay—” she started.

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. Not after . . .”

  “You won’t, Jake. You just need to have a little faith.”

  “Faith.” He wiped his face with his sleeve and sniffled. “This has nothing to do with faith. I’ve had so many things go wrong; I just want something to go right for once. To be easy, without complications and drama and unexpected upsets. Is that so much to ask for?”

  He dropped down into the plastic seat in the corner and waited while she dressed, absently gazing out the window to the parking lot. She thought of so many things she could say but instead prayed. Prayed God would grant them a beautiful healthy baby—a wonderful child with gifts and personality and a calling in life. Then maybe Jake would see God’s mercies and grace. Having been raised in the church by parents who wholeheartedly devoted themselves to God, Rachel found it hard to grasp what it must be like for Jake, wandering through life thinking he was alone and uncared for. She trusted in time God would reveal himself to her husband, and felt confident that the birth of this baby would open Jake’s eyes to a benevolent, caring God—one who intended good for him, not harm. Intended happiness and a deep and abiding peace to soothe his soul.

  Maybe now was a good time to bring up the subject that she’d set aside these last months.