Bridge to Haven

by Francine Rivers

  Her heart thundered in her ears, but she made herself laugh. “Can’t it go any faster?”

  Dylan looked surprised and pleased. “You’re a wild girl!” He slowed the car. “We’ll try her out on a straightaway sometime.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “San Francisco. I made reservations.” He gave her a bright-white grin. “It’ll be nicer than any place you’ve ever been.”

  As the hours passed, the fog of infatuation seemed to burn away. How much did she really know about Dylan? All she’d thought about over the past weeks was the way she felt when he looked at her. Even now, when he turned his dark eyes on her, she felt a little breathless. Dylan didn’t ask how she was feeling or why she was silent. He was too busy beating a rhythm on the steering wheel.

  “Dylan sort of scares me.” Penny’s whispered words rose up to mock her.

  Niggling doubts chipped away at her confidence. But what did Penny know? She and Dylan had only gone out twice before he lost interest and dropped her. Thinking about Dylan with Penny made her stomach clench. Why was she letting herself even think about these things now? Dylan was all that mattered. He had chosen her, not Penny. He’d take care of her.

  Had he said so?

  What if he hadn’t?

  The road climbed. Dylan raced up the hill, then down, entering a tunnel. The Golden Gate Bridge came into view on the other side. Heavy morning fog poured over the mountain and across the road like white foam. The City by the Bay was all lit up, beckoning. Dylan slowed to pay the toll when he reached the bridge, the ta-tick-ta-tick quickening Abra’s pulse. After going so fast, forty-five felt like a slow crawl across the mile-plus expanse. Dylan drove along Doyle Drive toward the marina, then turned down Van Ness. He ran two stoplights and made a hard left onto California, shooting up the hill. “We’re almost there, baby.”

  A cathedral loomed above them. She’d dreamed she’d have a white wedding someday. She made a promise to herself to make Dylan so happy tonight, he’d want to marry her tomorrow morning. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She’d make it so he never wanted to let her go. The car flew up Nob Hill. A block past the cathedral, Dylan made a sharp left, and parked in front of the Fairmont Hotel. Abra gaped. She’d never seen anything so grand.

  “Here. Put this on.” He pulled a ring from his little finger and handed it to her. “Turn it around, so only the band shows. If anyone asks, we’re on our honeymoon.” He shoved his door open and got out. Cold humid air hit her.

  Abra quickly slipped on the ring with the crest of a winged beast before the man in uniform opened her door. “Welcome to the Fairmont.” His smile altered when he got a good look at her. She blushed. Clearly the man knew she and Dylan weren’t married. He knew why they were here. She lowered her eyes as she got out of the car.

  “Hey! You!” Dylan tossed the keys to the man. “Park it.” He came around and took Abra by the arm, leaning down to whisper, “Try not to look like such a schoolgirl.” Dylan swept her inside the hotel.

  Abra wanted to hide when they entered the lobby, though only hotel staff was around at this hour.

  “Sit over there and wait for me. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be right back.” She did what he told her, sinking into a plush velvet chair behind a palm. Dylan walked away.

  He had such confidence, as though he belonged in places like this. Heart hammering, palms sweating, Abra looked around at marble pillars, gilt staircase, red carpets, the sculptures tucked into corners, the paintings on the walls. It was like a palace! She remembered what Mitzi had taught her when she got the jitters before playing piano at church. “Take a deep breath and release it slowly through your nose. It’ll calm you down.” Abra put away the thought that anyone was looking askance and imagined herself a princess, Dylan the prince who had brought her to this castle.

  She heard him laugh. Peering around the palm, she watched him flirt with the attractive receptionist. The woman smiled back at him and went to work while Dylan leaned forward on the counter. Whatever he said flustered the woman and made her face turn pink. Jealousy and hurt surged through Abra’s body. Had he already forgotten he’d left her hidden in an out-of-the-way corner?

  What would Dylan do if she got up and walked out the door right now?

  Where could she go if she did? It was cold outside, and she hadn’t thought to bring a coat. She’d have to call Peter and Priscilla and beg them to come and get her.

  Would they?

  Dylan appeared, grinning. “Piece of cake. Flirt a little and she didn’t even bother to look your way.” He studied her face. “You didn’t think I was attracted to her, did you? She’s got ten years on me at least. Then again, it could be interesting.” He put his arm around her and tucked her close against his side. “Relax. I’m all yours. They’re sending champagne up to the room so we can celebrate the nuptials.” He kissed her temple. “You look scared.”

  “I am. A little.”

  He knew exactly where the elevators were located. Had he been here before?

  “I don’t know anything, Dylan.”

  “Oh, you will, baby. You will.” As soon as the doors closed, Dylan pulled her into his arms. “I love the way you look at me. Like the sun rises and sets on my command.” His mouth devoured hers as he pushed her back against the wall. Up, up, up they went. His body felt like a furnace.

  The elevator stopped. Dylan took her by the hand. She had to take two steps to his one as he strode down the carpeted hallway. He unlocked a door and pushed it open. “Home, sweet home.”

  Her heart stuck in her throat, and she didn’t move until he put his hands on her hips and pressed her forward. The door wasn’t even closed before he started pulling at her clothing. She gasped, backing up. Buttons popped. Unzipping her skirt, he shoved it down over her hips, and it dropped to the floor around her ankles. She said his name in frightened protest when he yanked the straps of her bra down from her shoulders.

  Someone knocked on the door. She scrambled to cover herself.

  Dylan said a foul word, his breath coming hot and heavy. “Go in the bathroom and stay there until I tell you to come out.”

  Abra fled and closed the door behind her, shaking. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the flushed, dark-eyed, disheveled girl staring back at her. She could hear Dylan through the door, talking to someone. He sounded in complete control again, amused. The other man spoke in a low, respectful voice. Footsteps headed for the door. It closed with a snap.

  Dylan walked into the bathroom. “We have our luggage. Coast is clear, baby.” When he lifted the lid of the toilet and unzipped his pants, she hurried to the bedroom. Hands against her hot cheeks, she stood at the windows, staring out at the city lights, the narrow streets, the Bay Bridge. She felt a thousand miles away from Haven. She heard the toilet flush.

  In a panic, she opened Penny’s suitcase and rummaged for her baby-doll pajamas. When Dylan came back out into the bedroom, she ducked by him and went into the bathroom again, locking the door this time.

  Dylan laughed and drummed his fingers on the door. “You’re not going to be one of those girls who locks herself in the bathroom all night, are you?”

  Another knock on the door to the suite saved her from having to answer. Dylan opened it and talked to another man. She heard the rattle of a cart, glassware, the men talking in low voices, the pop of a cork, the door closing. Dylan tapped again. “Champagne’s arrived.”

  She opened the door cautiously. “Is anyone else going to come?”

  “Not until we order breakfast in bed.” He held out a crystal glass of champagne and lifted his. “Here’s to enjoying life to the fullest.” He clinked her glass with his. “Drink up, baby. You look like you need a little liquid courage.” He watched through veiled eyes as she sipped experimentally. The bubbles tickled her nose and she didn’t like the taste. “Try it with this.” He fed her a strawberry. He replenished her glass. After two, she felt light-headed.

  Dylan ran a fingertip down her
bare arm, raising goose bumps. “You look more relaxed.” He took the glass of champagne away and put it on the room service cart. “Enough bubbly.” He gave her a teasing wink. “I want you conscious.”

  Abra had never seen a man undress before and turned her back. Dylan chuckled. “Don’t be shy. You can look.” He turned her around to face him and grasped her hand. “And touch.” When she pulled back, he took hold of her baby-doll pajamas and ripped them down the front. She raised her hands to try to cover herself, but he grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms apart so he could look at her. “I knew you’d be beautiful.”

  “You’re hurting me, Dylan.”

  “It’s your own fault. Stop fighting me.”

  “Please. Wait.”

  “Why?” His eyes were like black coal, his smile mocking. “Baby.” He wedged his knee between hers.

  How could someone so beautiful become so ugly and frightening? The curling warmth in the pit of Abra’s stomach became a cold lump of fear. Everything felt wrong.

  Dylan was strong and relentless. He was neither kind nor gentle.

  Unable to escape, Abra retreated inward, shutting down, going numb. She felt as though she floated above, witnessing the devastation. This is making love? This vile, profane act of violence? This is what novelists describe as making the earth move?

  Finally, it was over. Dylan pulled back abruptly, leaving her to feel the cold. Had his fingers left bruises? She felt battered inside. She wanted to cover her face in shame.

  Dylan sprawled on his back and went straight to sleep. He snored like an old man.

  Abra lay still, afraid to move, afraid to awaken him. She stared at the ceiling, tears flooding her eyes, seeping down her temples into her hair. In the darkness she remembered. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Abra.” Joshua had tried to warn her. She’d always been an outcast, a castaway. Now she was defiled, as well.

  Oh, God, what happens now?

  A dark voice in her head whispered, What do you think? You make your bed. You sleep in it. Remember? This is what you wanted. You’d better make the best of it.

  CHAPTER 6

  Be careful what you wish for.

  You might just get it.

  KING MIDAS

  JOSHUA DROVE through the night to San Francisco. He found a gas station and filled his tank, trying to think what to do next. Should he start looking in the maze of streets that laced the hillsides? He didn’t know where to begin, how to find her. Would Dylan have taken her to a fancy hotel or a cheap motel? Would he have kept driving? Doubtful. He’d have wanted to take what he was after as soon as possible. But then what? Leave Abra somewhere on her own? Take her with him to wherever he intended to go next?

  Dawn came and Joshua parked along the beach. He stared at the endless ocean, the waves lapping the shore. People came out and strolled, a few with dogs. Joshua put his head against the steering wheel. “Lord, please, make her call home.” Defeated, he started the engine and headed back to the Golden Gate Bridge.

  Abra filled her lungs and breathed out all her expectations and dreams. Her tears dried. She cautiously eased out of bed, went into the bathroom, and locked the door. Hands shaking, she turned on the shower. She stepped under the stream and turned up the heat gradually until her skin reddened like a boiled lobster. The room filled so thick with steam, she breathed in liquid air. She washed thoroughly and still felt dirty.

  Dylan awakened when she got back into bed. “Hmmmm, you smell so good.” He wanted her again. She didn’t dare say no. Even if she had, would he have listened? When he finished, she pulled the blanket over herself and curled into the fetal position.

  Abra, an inner voice whispered. Get up. Go downstairs and call home.

  I can’t.

  Call Pastor Zeke.

  She pressed the heels of her hands against her ears.

  You’re just a child.

  Not anymore. Peter and Priscilla would be too ashamed of her to look at her, let alone speak to her. Penny would spread it all over school that she’d run away with Dylan, spent one night in a hotel, and come home with her tail between her legs like a whipped puppy. Pastor Zeke would tell her she was bound for hell. And Joshua . . . Oh, what would Joshua say to her? She shuddered at the thought of facing him.

  Call—

  She closed her ears to the voice. I can’t go home. I don’t have a home anymore. Wherever Dylan goes, I go.

  Exhaustion finally took over. She dreamed she was a baby again, so weak, she couldn’t raise herself, with barely enough strength to cry. A man stood on the bridge above her. Hope came and she raised her hand, fingers spread, beseeching. She wanted to call out, but she had no voice. He leaned forward, looking over the rail, but a beast with dark wings approached her. All Abra could see now was the great, dark shape looming over her. It had burning red eyes and a bright-white mocking smile.

  Dad opened the back door when Joshua came up the steps. He didn’t have to ask if Joshua had had any luck. Joshua went into the living room and sank onto the couch. “I didn’t even know where to start looking.”

  “She’s in God’s hands, Son.”

  “She’s in Dylan Stark’s hands, Dad!” Anger surged. “He’ll break her to pieces.” He felt like he was choking on rage. “If he hasn’t already.”

  “Maybe that’s what it’s going to take to reach her.”

  Joshua stared at him. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I don’t like the idea any better than you do, Son, but love and kindness and reason haven’t moved her. She’s closed her heart to everyone, except this boy.”

  “He’s not a boy. He’s a son of a—!”

  “If you oppose her, she’ll feel like a martyr.”

  Joshua came to his feet. “Then tell me what to do!”

  “You’ve done all you can do. That’s what I’m telling you. It’s time to let her go.”

  “Give up on her?” Joshua’s voice came out ragged, broken.

  “Letting go isn’t giving up. It’s trusting God to do whatever He has to do. Remember what you know to be true. God loves her more than you do. He loves her more than I do or Peter and Priscilla, more than all of us put together.” He sighed. “Sometimes God has to destroy in order to save. He has to wound in order to heal.”

  “Destroy? Wound? I can’t let that happen.”

  “It’s already happening, Joshua. It’s not your choice. It’s hers. All you can do is trust in God’s unfailing love.”

  “I have to do something, or go crazy.” Joshua sank onto the couch again, covered his head, and wept.

  He felt his father’s hand firm on his shoulder. “We will do something.” His hand tightened. “We’ll pray for her.”

  Abra awakened when Dylan pulled the covers from her. “Come on, baby. Get up.” They ate breakfast in the room, and Dylan had her wait outside while he checked out. He said they’d stay another night or two in San Francisco in a hotel near North Beach. It wouldn’t be as grand, but all they really needed was a bed, right?

  He drove her to Fisherman’s Wharf. He talked about the last time he’d been in the city with fraternity friends. When he said they’d had fun, she knew he meant with girls. She liked the smell of the sea. Dylan bought fresh crab in a small cup. “Open up, little bird.” He forked it into her mouth. He said he wanted to buy her something as a souvenir and decided on an inexpensive pink zip-up sweatshirt with Fisherman’s Wharf printed on it. Pink was Penny’s favorite color.

  “Rumor has it Joe and Marilyn will get hitched soon. They live someplace around here. If we’re lucky, we might run into them.”

  “Are you telling me you know them?”

  “I’ve met Marilyn.” He grinned at her openmouthed surprise. “She’s been to my house. My mother knows everyone in Hollywood.”

  “Is your mother an actress, too?” She’d never heard of Lilith Stark.

  “She’s a columnist. She makes and breaks actresses. She throws the best parties in the industry. Anybody who wants to be somebody comes. She
knows all the dirt people try to hide. Everybody wants to be on her good side. When she says come, they ask when.” He smiled sardonically. “Marilyn may come off like a witless blonde, but she’s smarter than she looks.”

  Dylan took her to dinner in Chinatown, and then to a nightclub in North Beach. “I’ve got a whole new world to show you.” The man at the door took one look at her and shook his head. Dylan leaned forward and spoke in the man’s ear as he slipped some money into his hand. He stepped aside and let them enter.

  It was dark and smoky inside. Abra’s mouth fell open when she spotted two naked girls gyrating on a small stage. The place was packed with people, mostly men. Dylan pulled Abra along behind him until he found a place for them to sit. Men looked at her. She felt her skin crawl. A topless waitress came to take their order, and Abra quickly looked down at the table. Dylan ordered and leaned back in his seat to watch the show.

  “Can we go?” Abra pleaded, mortified.

  “Quit acting like a Sunday school girl. Watch the act.” He caught her by the chin and turned her head toward the stage. “You might learn something.” When Dylan got up, she panicked. He leaned close. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” She watched him weave his way between the tables and speak to a man on the other side of the room. The man took something from his pocket and handed it to Dylan. Dylan handed something back. Abra didn’t breathe easily until Dylan returned to the chair beside her. He winked at her. “Did you think I was leaving you already?”

  The topless waitress returned with a tray of drinks. Dylan took one and handed it to Abra. “Drink up.” She obeyed and felt the kick as soon as she swallowed. Her stomach grew warm. He took a small envelope from his pocket and removed a pill. “Take this. You’ve been uptight all day. This will help you relax.” She did as he said to please him. When he nodded at her drink, she took another swallow.

  Abra did relax. The rhythmic beat of drums pounded through her blood. Dylan pulled her up and danced with her. When he took his hands away, she didn’t stop. She felt exhilarated, just moving to the music. Men shouted encouragement. Colored lights were in her face. She closed her eyes and turned around, arms in the air, body moving to the beat. The noise grew louder. She heard angry shouts, a commotion, but didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about anything but the music, the movement.