My Name is Kate and I Just Killed My Baby

by Duane L. Ostler

the power of Jesus. She forgives you and so does Jesus. Kate's not upset you killed her. Not at all. She loves you. And she came back from the dead just to be with you."

  Mom just looked at me, her lips quivering. "It can't be ..." she said slowly. "But I killed her. I did." She put her hands to her head. "I remember going to the abortion clinic ..."

  "And remember how you came back and how upset you were at what you'd done," continued Peter. "And then suddenly she came back to life, even though she was dead! She really did! It was a miracle from Jesus. She was truly killed, but then she came back to life! And then you got to raise her. You knew you didn't deserve it, but you got to raise her anyway. And there she is, right over there. There she is. That's your Kate."

  Everything in the room was suddenly very blurry. For no good reason, I felt as if my heart was breaking. Everything Peter had said to her was true, of course, in a way. But somehow his saying it brought the reality crashing back for me that it was not the same with me and Jonathon. I'd killed him dead. He never came back. He never did, and he never would. There was no such miracle for Jonathon and me. And it was because of me that he was dead, and--"

  "Hey, there, Katey-Matey," came a distant voice through the fog of my tears. I felt someone take my hand. "I can guess what you're thinking--and you're wrong! He comes back every night, Katey-Matey. Every night in your dreams. And he forgives you, and loves you just as you are. And some day because of Jesus he will live again--he'll come back from the dead too! Jesus can bring anyone back from the dead, and he'll bring Jonathon back too. I promise you, he will."

  I broke down at that point, starting to blubber like a stupid little girl. I vaguely felt Peter lead me over to my Mom and put my hands on hers. "Have a nice cry-fest!" came his nonsensical voice, fading toward the door. "And don't forget we're cleaning out Mr. Phelps's dog pen tomorrow, Katey-Matey!" And then the crazy, wonderful fool was gone.

  For the next hour Mom and I just hugged each other and balled our eyes out. And in my ear, over and over, Mom kept saying, "Kate! Kate! My darling Kate! Oh, Kate, I love you so. Oh, Kate, I'm so sorry for what I did, but I'm so happy you came back to me from the dead! Oh, Kate! You're alive again!"

  May 31

  Well, journal, now you know. Now you know how Mom finally got past the mental block I'd put in her mind when she found out about my abortion. Peter did it. It was Peter's miracle. Mom started to improve from that hour, and although she still gets confused sometimes and finds herself wondering if I am alive or dead, she usually comes back out of it pretty quick after she sees me walk into the room.

  Dad was ecstatic of course. He practically begged for me to take him to Peter so he could thank him. At first I resisted, since I was afraid the sight of Peter might shock Dad pretty bad. But Dad kept insisting so I finally allowed him to drive me down to Peter's house and they got to meet. And Dad didn't act shocked at all--just grateful. And then Peter recruited him to go help some orphan children the following Saturday.

  As for me and Jonathon, Peter was right. He still visits me almost every night. Now I look forward to going to bed and dreaming, since I know I will probably get to see him. And in almost all my dreams he is smiling.

  Yes, journal, it looks like the story has been told. My idiot therapist should be happy. Of course, Oscar still hasn't come back, but I keep hoping. And my car is still in the shop, but someday I will get it fixed and drive again, when I get my license back. And Mom is still not back to her normal housekeeping, but it will hopefully come someday. And I still have to forgive myself a few dozen times every day, especially when I go to the mall or the park and see young moms with their babies. But beside all those things, I'd say the story has been told.

  But there is one more story to tell. A story that's sad in a way, but helps make sense out of a number of things.

  It happened the day Peter called. He called me in the morning and asked if I would come down that afternoon, because he was getting a group together on a very special and very large service project. In fact he said it was probably the biggest so far. Naturally I agreed.

  As I got off the bus that day I searched my brain, trying to figure out what it could be. After all, a project that big wouldn't likely just jump out of thin air. I'd been working with Peter long enough that I usually knew the various jobs which were coming up. In fact, I was one of his 'regulars' now, and he sometimes had me take charge of a group when he had a conflict of two service projects at once and couldn't go to both.

  When I arrived at his shabby, broken down house, he was once more sitting on the front step waiting. I smiled when I saw him. He was such a crazy looking guy, and had an even crazier personality. But his heart was as big as the universe.

  Janell showed up a minute later, and after that Fred and Harry, two of Peter's other regulars. He smiled at us all. And then he did something he'd never done before. "Come on into the kitchen," he said, as he turned and led the way through the broken-down door nearly falling off its hinges.

  I glanced meaningfully at Janell, then followed with growing excitement. All of us in his gang had often speculated to each other about what the bowels of his house must look like inside. But all anyone had ever seen was the shabby, rotting front room just inside that broken-down door. Now the mystery of the rest of the house was finally about to be unveiled. As I followed him inside I was filled with a morbid curiosity to see how bad it was. I could tell Janell was too--and also that she was getting ready to ball him and tell him he needed to go live in a decent place.

  The front room was a shambles of course, just as we'd seen it before. But then Peter pulled out a key and unlocked a door leading into the back part of the house. And when we walked through it, we felt like we'd stepped into another world.

  It was fantastic! It was like a new house back here, with thick, gorgeous carpet and a new kitchen and new appliances. There was a family room right off the kitchen with a big screen TV and a fridge stocked with delicious foods. Never had I imagined Peter lived like this!

  He looked at us all apologetically. "Sorry about this guys. I wouldn't have the house look like this, but my Uncle insisted. You see, he's kind of rich and he didn't like it when he saw this place when I first moved in. So he insisted on fixing it up for me. But I never use it much--and I almost never watch the big screen TV! Honest!"

  Janell and I smiled at his embarrassment. Cocky Peter, always so sure of himself was now truly blushing with shame--at being well off! The guy was an obvious fruitcake!

  "Now," he said as he took a seat at a beautifully carved kitchen table and motioned for us to sit down too. "I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here--isn't that a great line? Somebody ought to use it in a movie or a book, or something."

  Janell giggled, and I found it necessary to concentrate very hard on a spot on my shoe so I wouldn't join her. Suddenly Peter pulled four file folders off an empty chair next to him and handed one to each of us.

  "Now Janell will take east Pittsburgh during the six months I'm gone, and Fred will take the south and Harry the west, and--

  "Gone!" shrieked all four of us together. Then we were all talking at once.

  "Where are you going?"

  "WHY are you going?"

  "You can't just leave us here!"

  "There's no way we can do this without you!"

  "Everyone's going to freak out when they learn you're gone!"

  Peter held up his hands for silence. "Golly, guys," he said casually, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were troubled about something. Don't know why. I chose you four because I knew you could handle things while I was gone, and also because--"

  "But you can't go!" shrieked both Janell and I together. "We won't let you!" I added firmly.

  "Well, that's nice, it really is," said Peter. "But I don't think the state police will be convinced when they come tomorrow to take me away."

  We all froze as
if we'd been doused with a ton of ice. Then we started talking again.

  "State police!" said Fred.

  "What did you do?" blurted Harry.

  "This is impossible!" said Janell. I didn't say anything. Peter just held up his hand for silence again. Then an unaccountable look of sadness crossed his face.

  "I decided on you four to handle things while I'm gone for two reasons. First, you're all very capable and will do a good job." Seeing us about to protest again that we knew we were NOT very capable and would undoubtedly flop without him, he raised both hands in the air for silence.

  "The second reason I chose you four is a bit more sensitive," he continued. He looked at us for a moment. "I've tried very hard to avoid getting into personal matters before with any member of the gang, and I don't intend to start now. But sometimes personal things have to be discussed. I don't want to shock any of you, or for you to be shocked at each other. But as I've thought it through, I can't think of any other way to explain this than just the blunt approach. I chose you four specifically because each one of you knows what it feels like to think you were responsible for killing someone."

  There was deathly silence in the kitchen. Incredible silence. It was only penetrated by the gentle humming of his refrigerator, and the gentle ticking of a large grandfather clock against the far