She laughed. Who did this guy think he was?
“I’m sorry, I’m not that kind of girl.”
He laughed, turning red in the face. “That isn’t what I meant. I’m sorry it sounded that way. Maybe we can talk through your problem and come up with a plan. Everything seems better with a plan.”
Yep. Exactly like Denny. Make a plan and run from your problems. Trouble is, some problems are permanent. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m pregnant. That’s the plan. And the fool father left me before I could tell him. He musta seen it coming.”
The stranger stared straight ahead. A warmth fell over her, like an invisible blanket. Though he talked like Denny, he comforted her like an angel sent from above. Aunt Judy said every person has a guardian angel. Maybe this man was hers.
“That is a tight spot you’re in. But there are options.”
He said it so calm, so peaceful, that she didn't catch his drift at first. What options? Have the baby or give it up for adoption, right? Either way, she’d come to term with this thing, like it or not.
Another possibility crept in.
No.
She could never.
Not in a million years.
A cold shiver ran down her spine. “I couldn’t. What if someone saw me walk into one of those places? I’d never hear the end of it. Bad enough folks will know I let that creeper have his way, it’s another thing entirely—”
“Nobody has to know.”
“This is a small town. Everybody knows everything.”
The old man leaned forward, hands clasped, elbows on his knees. “It doesn’t have to happen here. I could drive us south where nobody knows you. It’s a simple procedure. Perfectly simple. Nobody has to know.”
She’d never even thought about aborting the baby before. It was all so fresh for her. The doctor told her there was a bun in the oven and now this. “I couldn’t, I couldn’t do that to a child.”
The stranger stared off into the distance. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but we're talking about a piece of flesh. A scrap of tissue. Nothing very large. It can't see. It has no thoughts, no emotions, feels no pain. There is nothing wrong. They set things right.” He put his big, comforting hand on hers. “You have to think about yourself now, what this is going to mean to you. It’s not selfish. You can’t throw your life away because of one small mistake. Don’t let one bad decision take away everything.”
She lay back in the chair, peace fighting its way up her body.
He offered her a way out. Could she do it? Of course she could do it. No way to make the payments on the house with a child to watch. Even missing work for a few weeks to come to term was more than she could handle. The diner didn’t allow for maternity leave.
“There are reasons these services exist,” he said. “There is no shame in admitting that you need help. Judging by your waitress uniform, I doubt you could afford to provide much of a future for yourself. You need this time to become something more. Go to college, get a better job. Then you can have children when you're ready. Think of what kind of life they would have otherwise.”
Life on the streets sounded bad enough. But with a child? Of course there are services for women with kids. But she wanted to make something of herself, something more than another single mom living off the system. Traci had seen inside the shelters before. They were not kind places. Blank white walls that resembled a prison cell more than a living space. Women there stole from each other. She could never sleep comfortably in the presence of all those strangers. No place for a baby to grow up.
The stranger pushed the butterscotch candy around in his mouth. “It’s a simple procedure.”
“You some kind of doctor?”
He blushed again, fiddling with the yellow candy wrapper. “No, I am not a doctor. I like to help people make informed decisions. This doesn’t have to end your life.”
She squeezed his hand. It was calloused and hard, like the hand of a man who knew the meaning of work and trial. His face showed signs of stress and concern with deep wrinkles and bags under the eyes. Something about him felt right.
An angel for sure.
He stepped out of her dreams to lead her in her time of need. She was safe, cared for. The wild beast inside settled. She did not know right from wrong. All she knew was that this man was leading, as if they were spinning around a dance floor.
“I’ll be there for you.” Wade said. “It’s just a simple procedure.”
# # #
Night set in. Strong winds rose and fell, a sure sign of a summer storm. Traci lay on top of her sheets, exposed to the breeze in the stifling heat. Still dressed in her pink waitress uniform, she didn't bother to change after getting home from the clinic. The man said his goodbyes and wished her the very best. He walked out of her life without so much as stopping for a glass of water or offering his name.
Curtains danced in the corner. Crickets started their mating songs. A pickup truck rolled by playing a Waylon Jennings tune. The world continued to move around her. Despite her bad decisions, the childish way she dove from one mistake to the next, the earth remained on its axis.
That stranger. Where did he come from? She might never know. He left her a “loan” of nearly a thousand dollars with which to pay her mortgage and start classes at the community college. The small pile of cash sat in her dresser, tucked away where nobody could find it. Not even Denny would think to look there.
She wouldn’t let that buffoon come back now. He’d abandoned her in her greatest hour of need. The kind older gentleman stayed with her the entire time, holding her hand for as long as he could until the doctors called her to the operating room. That's what gentlemen do.
He was right. It was a simple procedure, one the doctors explained to her without ceremony. No counseling session, no discussion of right or wrong, no judging eyes, but a few pieces of paperwork and some time on a cold table. She was back on the street before she knew it. The man took her home, gave her the money, and drove off into the night in his rental car. He left a phone number with the cash. She tried it, but it was disconnected, which only confirmed her suspicion that he was a phantom provided to walk her through this dark time.
At first she busied herself by cleaning the piles of laundry scattered across the floor and furniture. But exhaustion struck and she collapsed on the couch. She flipped through the brochures for the community college. They were full of color pictures of young people performing professional jobs. What the heck. In a few weeks she could be one of those students, studying books, raising her hand and asking important questions. The list of majors took two whole pages. She could do anything she wanted to do.
A turbulent ocean of hope rose within her chest, only to morph into pain in her stomach. Perhaps she could study business, find her way to a good job with lots of money. Or she could be a teacher, read fine books, and get a solid retirement plan. But the call to a nursing degree appealed the most. There was always a need for nurses.
The prospects intoxicated her. But as evening passed into night her body quaked with terror over what she’d done. Did she really eliminate a human life? And only hours after she learned of its existence? She crawled into bed, hugged her stomach, and wailed into her comforter. Despair set in. How could she listen to a stranger on something so important? She didn’t even know the man. And here she’d made the biggest decision of her life based on…, on what?
Yelling, shouting, she rose from her bed, pulled at her hair and tore her clothing. The child, fully grown, appeared to her in a vision. It cried to her, held its arms out. He shouted from some distant day she had destroyed. Her bedroom taunted her for what she’d done. These walls witnessed the creation of the child and now they bore judgment on her for abandoning her only responsibility in the entire world.
She ran from her room, sprinted down the hallway, and out the front door. A mighty electrical storm pushed at her with strong gusts of wind. The air was charged—rain would fall at any moment.
Run somewhe
re.
Run away from anger and doubt.
She had to set straight the evil deed. Oh, to undo the last few hours. To go back and change course. She cried out to God, lifted her arms to heaven, and tore at her hair.
She screamed at the sky.
Her feet carried her down the street, running directionless through the night. Flashes of lighting erupted miles away, casting odd shadows where the demons lurked. They taunted her, yelling obscenities, confirming every lie she’d ever heard.
You’re useless and ugly. Of course you listened to the stranger. Of course you followed yet another man into the pit. You couldn't learn from your first mistake. Instead, you took the easy way out like you always do. You can’t take it back. The world will forever judge you for this day. It would have been better if you’d never been born.
BAM. Thunder clapped and rain fell down as if thrown by an angry hand. Wind slapped the water against her, stinging her skin. She ran into a grove of trees, across a ditch, desperate to escape from the cold of the rain. She didn’t have any idea where to go, driven by her mania.
You’ll be struck down by lightning, Traci. God will have his revenge on you tonight. You think you can run, but God hates baby killers. You aren’t safe no matter where you go.
The path rose dramatically. Low hanging tree branches hit her face. She pushed them aside, ducking low.
CRACK.
Lightning struck a tree only a hundred feet away. Sparks sprayed in all directions, limbs crashed to the ground.
You’re next. Keep running. Make it interesting.
She ran into a clearing where the path leveled off. She didn’t see the hazard in her way and fell to her knees, ripping her pants, bruising her hands. Her abdomen struck something solid, throwing pain through her bones. Another flash of lightning and the steel ties of the railway came into view. She’d tripped on them.
Blood rolled down her legs. She pushed herself to her feet, snapping back to reality. Every item of her clothing sopped wet and clung to her skin, mingling with the blood and tears. Rain dropped straight and clear as she walked down the tracks. The sobbing would not stop.
WOOooOOH.
A distant train whistle. The ground trembled as a low rumble shook the tracks. Rocks danced across the ground. The long whiteness of the train light washed over her, throwing a shadow down the line. A black locomotive approached at a rapid pace.
Here's the good train, Justice, come to run you down. All you have to do is walk. Walk until the train comes to take you home. Justice. Your problems are almost over. Keep walking.
The train bore down, blaring its otherworldly horn. Light enveloped Traci, blinding her.
WHOO.
Everything quaked. Even the rain trembled with the mighty force that approached her from behind. Time for judgment. She made her mistakes. Time to pay for them. The squealing of brakes drowned out all other noise. Light glowed all around her, setting the world on fire. Traci yelled at the top of her lungs.
Her sense came back to her, like waking from a dream. The tracks, the train, they were real.
She turned back. The train thundered, moments away. Traci jumped off the tracks a split second before the locomotive ran over the place where she recently stood. She hit the ground hard and froze in place. Wind enveloped her. Noise. Her feet lay shaking in the earthquake of the passing locomotive, inches from the heavy wheels of the beast. She was sure that her ears would explode with the sound of grinding metal.
She stood and ran down the hill into a small cluster of trees. Her eyes locked in terror on the scene above her.
Chug-chug-chug, the train’s brakes ground deep, throwing sparks. She should be dead now. Anger and fear pushed her out here and only a miracle woke her in time to escape the tracks.
Traci wound back down the lonely trail, soaked in rain and sweat. Mud covered her arms and clung to her hair. Air heaved in and out of her lungs as the reality of her situation sank in. She made it. She cheated death. Somehow she survived.
Rain beat down. Cold sank into her bones.
Half-blind with fear, she loped down the road on a twisted ankle. Darkness surrounded her. A thin outline of the street was barely visible.
In the distance she spotted a shopping plaza lit with bright lights. A large blue overhang covered the sidewalk. Traci crossed the parking lot. The blacktop blended into the sky concealing where one ended and the other began. She slopped through the puddles and held herself, arms diagonal across her chest, as though she might fall apart if she let go.
She fell to the ground beneath the overhang. Her knees bled on the concrete and saturated her clothes with a deep red. A new wave of tears flooded her soul as horror sank in. Within the last few hours her boyfriend left her, she ended her pregnancy, and narrowly missed an oncoming train.
What happened back there?
She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't cope. The face of her mother projected in her mind, scolding her for acting so childish. She should grow up, make good decisions, but life kept getting in the way. Yes, a new opportunity presented itself, but how could she deal with the grief of eliminating her own baby? She couldn’t….
# # #
Anne Marie bowed her head in unison with the other women. Time for prayer. Rozan read from the Psalms, something about the grass withering and flowers fading. She knew something about that.
Her knee twitched. Product of getting older. But a woman in her seventies can’t complain when she’s surrounded by those in their eighties. Rain pitter-patted on the metal roof. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if they met in a decent building. Instead, they gathered each week in a shopping plaza that doubled for the church offices. The young people seemed to like it, but she longed for some permanence.
Something inside told her to open her eyes. She fought the urge. No, better not get distracted. Focus on the task ahead.
It happened again. Anne Marie opened her eyes and surveyed the room. All the other women bowed their heads while Rozan read. Was everything done? The coffee was in its warming tray, the pastries sat in a big pile on the counter. Nothing looked out of place.
Something passed the window. It looked like a young woman. Who walked around in the cold during a rainstorm?
Her knee twitched a second time. Time to get up.
Anne Marie rose, leaning her full weight on her purple walker. She shuffled as fast as she could, ignoring the blood that rushed to her head and the tingle down her leg. Yes, it was a young woman with dark hair in a pink waitress’ outfit. The closer she got to the large windows at the front of the offices, the more she saw of her.
“Ladies.” Her voice was low at first, in shock. Rozan stopped praying.
“Something wrong?”
Blood. There was a small pool of blood on the cement outside. Oh no.
Anne Marie pushed open the front door. “Get some towels and the first aid kit. We’ve got someone in need.”
The ladies in the office jumped into action. Anne Marie stepped outside. Wind whipped cold rain against her legs. The young woman wailed and cried. She reached down to help her, but the woman pushed her away.
“Leave me alone.”
Patience. Grace. The woman at her feet dripped with mud and filth. She approached with caution and rested her hand on the young woman’s shoulder.
“Are you all right, dear?”
The figure of the young woman shook with each sob. “I’ve done something awful.” Her voice hiccupped, barely audible over the rain.
Anne lowered herself to one knee to get a good look. She placed her hands on the girl’s face and wiped away the tears.
“Darling, I want you to know that Jesus loves you no matter what you’ve done,” she said. The towels arrived from the bathroom and Anne draped one over the girl’s shoulders. “Let’s get you inside. You’re okay, you’re safe here.”
The ladies helped the wet stranger to her feet and walked her inside as blankets were located. Rozan dug through the lost and found for dry clothes.
Jean put together a cup of coffee. They worked together, the hands and feet of the Almighty.
# # #
God Himself intervened on Traci’s behalf. The women of the Bible study reached out that night to a cold and lonely outcast. Surely this woman knew she was a sinner and deserved the punishment of a holy God. But instead, He extended mercy by way of a listening ear and a warm hug.
The angels rejoiced as another lost one came home.
CHAPTER NINE
Everything hurt. Wade’s neck ached as if someone had struck him with a baseball bat. Cramps gripped his fingers. A thick red line streaked his face where his forehead had collided with the steering wheel. Vision drifted back as pools of darkness and color dissipated. A few stars popped into focus. The trees settled into their rest positions as the wind died down and the ground stopped its quaking.
Cradle Robber Page 9