Saving Jane Doe

by Carolyn Purcell

  “Well, I’m done here,” I said. “Everything looks good. I noticed that just your parents are in the waiting room. Are your sisters coming, Jeff?”

  “Actually, no. Erin is in Alabama. She’s in college there now and left after Christmas to spend New Year’s Eve with her sorority sisters.”

  “Roll tide.”

  “Yeah, Mary’s from Alabama.”

  “What about Grace? I would think she would be here if she could.”

  “You’re right about that, but the little miracle girl is in Haiti on a short-term mission trip with her church, and Ellen isn’t getting out much. Did you hear? They put her on the liver transplant list.”

  “I did hear that. I ran into her gastroenterologist last week, and he said she got accepted with the group in Pittsburgh.”

  “Yeah, they’re sort of a regional center. I just pray they can find a liver before hers makes her too sick to have the transplant.”

  “I hope they can.” I still felt that little question of myself that always came when I thought of Ellen.

  “The great thing is that Ellen’s boss likes her work so much that he allows her to work at home whenever she feels like it. He says there’s no reason you can’t design clothes from your sickbed. It allows Ellen to contribute, and she loves her work.”

  I thought of that kangaroo maternity top and my wedding dress with a smile. Ellen’s pregnancy had blessed her life in more ways than Henry. It led to her career.

  “Would you like me to go talk to your parents, or do you want to do it when the baby goes to the nursery?”

  “Just tell them it’s here and they’re both all right.”

  I noted through the window in the waiting room that George was sitting by the door, talking with Jessie. Mary Green and Bill Tarter were still sitting in opposite corners of the room. As I started to open the door, I heard George say, “Jess, I owe you an apology.” I stopped. I didn’t really want to eavesdrop, but neither did I want to interrupt this conversation that had been years in the making.

  He continued. “I’ve called you a whore, said you were a terrible mother, and nursed Jeff’s anger toward you. I was wrong on all counts, and I am truly sorry. Will you forgive me? I’ve seen how much happier Jeff is since he forgave you, and I can’t deny what you have done for the girls.”

  “I need you to forgive me too,” Jessie said. “What I did was terrible to everybody I loved. I haven’t deserved it, but somehow God has allowed me to be reconciled to my children. I am grateful, and I would love for us to have peace between us too. I can certainly forgive you, if you can forgive me.”

  “Deal,” George said. Jessie offered her hand. George took it and then embraced her. Bill Tarter and Mary Green looked at each other and smiled a smile that said they understood the power of forgiveness, that it would spread throughout their circle of acquaintances and make everyone’s life better.

  I opened the door and they all looked at me anxiously. “Mother and baby are fine,” I said. “Jeff will come by and show you the baby on their way to the nursery.”

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” George asked.

  “He wants to tell you, so you’ll have to wait a while longer.”

  As I was going to see Elaine the next morning, I ran into Jessie, who had come to visit before work.

  “I have a twelve-hour shift today, so I thought I would sneak in and see my grandbaby first.” We walked to Elaine’s room together. When we entered we found Elaine crying. Huge tears dripped off her chin and fell onto Sara’s face as she nursed.

  “What is it, Elaine?” Jessie said. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

  “Not this one,” she said. “I was just thinking about my other baby.”

  I was glad that Jessie was with me that morning; I would never have come up with what she said. I had seen this many times; a woman has an abortion, and it’s not a baby to her until she has a child. What can you say to comfort someone in that situation? I watched as Jessie sat on the side of Elaine’s bed and took her hand. Wisdom born of experience and inspired by the love of God gave her words I never would have had.

  “There is nothing wrong with the other one either, Elaine. That baby went straight from your womb into the arms of God. He’s perfect. He’s happy. Yes, you cheated him out of this life, but he has eternity, and that is what’s important.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Trust me, you can, but it isn’t easy,” Jessie said. “The reality of what you have done rises up to choke you at the most unexpected times. That won’t go away no matter what you believe, but I have found that picture of my child in the arms of God to be a comfort. Elaine, the other thing you need to know is that God loves you and me as much as He loves those babies. We aren’t innocent, but He will forgive us for what we’ve done. We just have to ask Him.”

  Elaine whispered, “Oh, dear Lord, I am so sorry for what I’ve done. I was selfish. I did not consider my innocent child. I did not consider Your laws. I deserve nothing from You, but please forgive me.”

  “Now, perhaps the hardest part is that you have to forgive yourself.”

  “I don’t know how I can.”

  “One of my friends told me that in Japan there’s a Shinto temple with thousands of dolls where mothers who have aborted babies go to grieve. Grieving is part of the work you have to do now,” I said.

  “How wise of Shinto believers,” Jessie said. “I wish the Christian voice in America was more loving and less judging.”

  I remembered a review I had read. “Rachel’s Vineyard is a new book about a spiritual journey of post abortion healing. Some churches are using it as a model for retreats, so finally the church is offering some help and hope instead of judgment.”

  “The judgment will always get the press.”

  “That’s too true,” I said.

  “I wonder if the demonstrators are right. Would it stop abortion if it was illegal?” Elaine asked.

  Jessie shook her head. “Elaine, I am living proof that making abortion illegal does not prevent it.”

  “And I am living proof that making it legal does not prevent the consequences.”

  Elaine stopped crying and moved Sara to her other breast. A smile came to her tear-streaked face as Sara grasped her index finger in her tiny hand. “I don’t deserve her,” she said as though to herself.

  “And Sara is living proof that God loves both of you.”

  By the elevator as Jessie was leaving for work, I said, “I’m so glad you were here. I wouldn’t have known what to say to help her. Do you mind if I share the picture of the baby in the arms of God with other patients?”

  “No, of course not. Do you know where I got that picture?”

  “No, where?”

  “When you went to call the doctor, Mr. Henry gave it to me the night I came in from the window ledge.”

  CHAPTER 17

  In mid-January, Jon and I had just gotten home from visiting his parents in Florida when Jessie called to say that she needed to talk. We met for coffee the next day. When I arrived at the restaurant, Jessie was pacing back and forth in front of the seats in the waiting area. Tension elevated her shoulders, and her fists were clenched.

  “Cara, I’m so glad to see you. I hope you had a good trip.”

  “We did. Jon’s parents are a joy. I hope we are that active when we get to be seventy.”

  “Thank you for taking time to meet me today. I know you’re always busy when you get home from a trip.”

  “True, but I’m never too busy to see you. What’s up?”

  “George and Mary stopped by the house to see Sara. While George and Jeff were talking sports, Mary told me she had an abnormal mammogram. She wanted to know what I thought she should do. She hadn’t told George yet.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told her she needed to tell him. Then I told her I would help her find a surgeon if she wanted to come to Lexington, but she said there was a surgeon at home that people liked.”
/>   “When Sara was born, I noticed that Mary had lost weight. Has she been trying to lose?”

  “I asked her. She said no, but she has lost twenty pounds since October.”

  “That’s not good. How did you leave it?”

  “She said she would tell George on the way home. I told her to call me if she wanted to come to Lexington, or if she needed me to help in any way. I’m worried, Cara.”

  “With good reason.”

  January 31, a Saturday, was Sara’s one-month birthday. Jessie decided to have a party and invited the family, including George and Mary. She admitted that she wanted to give Mary an opportunity to talk to her if she needed a shoulder. While the men watched a basketball game and Grace, Ellen, and Elaine played with Sara, Jessie, Mary, and I talked.

  “I told George about the mammogram, and he went with me to the surgeon. I had a lumpectomy, and it’s cancer. I started radiation last week.”

  “Are you getting that here in Lexington?”

  “Yes, at the University Hospital.”

  “Just remember that you can stay here with us if you need to because of the weather, or if you don’t feel like the trip. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Thank you, Jessie. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Mary, it’s a small thing for me to do. I don’t think I have ever thanked you for all you’ve done for my children.”

  Mary cried. “Maybe someday you will need to be there for my Erin.”

  Jessie moved to sit by her on the sofa and took her hand. “I will, Mary. Rest assured that I will.”

  “Did your doctor take lymph nodes, Mary?” I asked.

  “Yes, there were ten of twelve positive for cancer. I have to take chemotherapy after the radiation.”

  Mary stayed with Jessie for the last two weeks of her radiation therapy. She first stayed because a giant snowstorm made travel dangerous, but then she stayed because she did not feel well enough to make the trip. George stayed at home to work, and it was Jessie who took Mary back and forth for the treatments.

  When Mary finished the radiation, she was able to get her chemotherapy at home, so we didn’t hear from her for a while.

  On April 1, 1998, Jessie and I celebrated her sixtieth birthday at the Green Tree Tea Room. We had been wrong about her age when we guessed in 1971. She had been born in 1938 instead of 1940. She had not looked her age then, nor did she now.

  We both loved the Green Tree, as we called it. Located in an old house on Short Street, there were smaller rooms on the right of the entry used as dining rooms and a large room on the left where you could browse for antiques while you waited. Jessie and I agreed that theirs were the best scones we had ever had anywhere, and we’d both had high tea at several places in England, including Harrods and a number of charming little tearooms in the Cotswolds. The Green Tree served the same menu to everyone and changed it once a month.

  “I love coming here,” Jessie said as we were seated in the front room next to the window.

  “Me too, and you have to admit that your sixtieth birthday is a better excuse to come and celebrate than some of the others we’ve come up with.”

  “We have even more than that to celebrate today.” Her eyes twinkled.

  “We do? What have you been keeping from me?”

  “Grace is getting married. She got a diamond for Valentine’s Day. Can you believe it? I have never seen her so happy. My baby, my miracle, my only child who never once stopped loving me, who has been through so much pain and worry, has found someone to love her, whom she loves in return.”

  “Does she want a big wedding?”

  “No, they want a small service with close friends and family. Grace is thirty-three this year, and she thinks big weddings are for young brides. Besides, they don’t want to wait and take time to plan a big wedding.”

  “When will it be?”

  “They’re looking at September 12th. The weather is usually beautiful then and Grace wants to have the reception in the garden at my house after a morning service. She says she wants to be married all day on her wedding day and not spend it worrying about getting ready for the ceremony.”

  “That sounds like Grace.” I thought Jessie’s excitement would have settled some after she shared the news, but it did not, perhaps because she wasn’t finished.

  “I don’t want a big ceremony either,” she said.

  “I’m a little surprised. I would have thought you’d want to give Grace a big wedding, especially since Ellen didn’t want to have one.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t want a big ceremony for me.”

  “You? Bill?”

  “Yes, he proposed one night two weeks ago after we came home from having dinner with Grace and Grady. I accepted.”

  I rose to give her a big hug. As all of the difficulties of Jessie’s life flashed before my eyes, I thought, Nobody deserves this more than her. “Jessie, congratulations! I know he’s always been crazy about you, but I guess I had given up on you allowing yourself to fall in love.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I just didn’t feel lovable when my children hated me. After Jeff forgave me for deserting them, I felt like I needed new goals for myself. Since Elaine lived with me, Bill and I saw a lot of each other without having to date. I probably would not have dated him if I hadn’t seen him in the context of family events.”

  “You deserve to have some happiness.” Jessie and I had been through so much together that we had the kind of friendship where you could be direct; ask awkward questions if so inclined. “Have you considered that George may be free again?”

  “I’m sorry that he may lose Mary, but I honestly believe she was a better wife for him. I wouldn’t want to go back there.”

  “Are you and Grace having a double ceremony?”

  “Oh no, I want her day to be special for her alone. Besides, Bill and I aren’t getting any younger either. We’re looking at June 6.”

  “Jessie, that’s two months away.”

  “You won’t believe what I found in the attic. It’s your Aunt Edna’s wedding dress. It had been carefully packed away, and it fits me perfectly. I wouldn’t have to change anything to use it, but I have to ask its owner.”

  “Jessie, Aunt Edna has been dead for over thirty years.”

  “Cara, the dress belongs to you.”

  “Oh, I guess it does. Well, of course you can use it. Uncle Henry would love that. I think he had a crush on you.”

  “I still miss him, Cara.”

  “So do I.”

  “Did you attend his and Edna’s wedding?”

  “No, they married before I was born. I’ve never seen the dress.”

  “Do you have time to come see it after lunch? You can help me get ready for a wedding in two months and another one in five.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have time today. I have to do a hysterectomy at two o’clock.”

  “Well, in that case, I have one other announcement.”

  I laughed. “No wonder you’ve been rising off the chair. What else?”

  “I’m retiring. I gave my thirty-day notice two weeks ago after Bill proposed. He is retired, and we want to travel.”

  “I’m jealous. Where are you going to live? Is Bill moving in with you?”

  “No, I think Jeff and Elaine need some privacy. I’m moving to his condo.”

  “It will seem strange not having you at Uncle Henry’s house.”

  “I hope that’s all right.”

  “Of course it is. It’s your house.”

  “It’s more than my house. It was the sanctuary I needed when I had nothing, and it has been home and sanctuary for all three of my children. I wish Mr. Henry could have known what he did for me.”

  “I believe he does.”

  On June 6 at four in the afternoon, Jeff and Jon stood next to Bill Tarter and watched as Elaine and I walked down the aisle. Elaine was Jessie’s maid of honor and I was a bridesmaid, the first time I had been so honored. Like Elaine for her vow renewal ceremon
y, Jessie chose gardenias for their beauty and fragrance. Two lovely vases flanked the altar, and the three of us carried them.

  Jessie stunned when she entered in Aunt Edna’s dress. Her once long black curls were chin length and highlighted with silver. She once said that women paid good money to have blonde highlights, and God highlighted her hair with silver for free. She thought it was too hard for brunettes to color their gray hair without going too dark, and she thought her eyebrows were too dark to go blonde.

  Aunt Edna’s dress was made of white satin with a lace overlay that had tiny silver threads throughout. The bodice had a high neck with mandarin color and satin-covered buttons down the back. The same satin-covered buttons adorned the sleeves from wrist to elbow. The A-line skirt reached to the floor, and a short lace veil completed the picture. No one could have designed a more perfect dress for Jessie, a more perfect partner, or a more perfect day. As we walked out of the church, the sun was low in a cloudless sky and the temperature was seventy-two degrees.

  Bill’s condominium was at the Woodlands, a beautiful building downtown on Main Street that had a spacious parlor beside a caterer’s kitchen. It was a perfect place for residents to hold a wedding reception. Jessie had planned on a small wedding, but her church choir wanted to sing for her. That added forty people. In addition to her three children and their families, her father and brother came with their spouses. A few of Bill’s colleagues came from Columbus. Several friends from Bill and Jessie’s Sunday school class came. Other friends from the staff at the Florence Crittenden Home came. In the end over a hundred people celebrated the wedding of Jessie Ferguson to Bill Tarter.

  “I have one regret,” Jessie said at the reception.

  “What’s that? I thought everything was perfect.”

  “Sara was too little to be a flower girl,” she said with a smile.

  Jessie and Bill honeymooned in Maui. When they returned at the end of June, they were both tanned and relaxed.

  In September Mary finished her chemotherapy, and Grace married Grady Davis in a simple morning ceremony in the chapel at their church. One of her fellow teachers was her single bridesmaid. Grace looked lovely in a tea-length white dress made of silk—designed and made especially for Grace by Ellen, who had started as soon as Grady proposed. She had less energy each day as her liver disease worsened, and she wanted to be sure she finished it. The dress, perfect for Grace, shouted to the world that the designer knew and loved her. Its simple lines accentuated her petite figure, and the bodice with a semicircle of darts across the chest led your eye to Grace’s beautiful face. It was unique, like Grace.