“Whenever you’re ready, Sarah.” Dr. Baker’s voice was barely audible, more a verbal embrace than an urging to continue.
Sarah steadied herself, drew a deep breath, and leaned into the middle-aged woman’s arm. “I love babies. I always have. So at first I dreamed about having it and what it would look like and what names I would choose. But after a few weeks my boyfriend broke up with me and all of a sudden I was terrified. He paid for the abortion and a year later I was pregnant again—this time by another guy.”
“Sarah, help us understand something. Why did you choose to sleep with your next boyfriend after all the pain it caused you the first time around?”
Sarah’s forehead creased. “That wasn’t something I thought about much.” Her eyes met Dr. Baker’s. “I guess I figured I wasn’t worth anything anymore. And that was the only way I could please the guy I was with. But since I’ve been here I’ve thought about it a lot and I think maybe … well, maybe I wasn’t willing to be honest with myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like I bought the lie.”
“The lie about abortion.”
Sarah nodded. “Right. I told myself everything the people at the clinic said was true. It wasn’t really a baby, it was my choice. It was legal. There was nothing wrong with what I did. Those kinds of things.”
“And you kept telling yourself those things after your second abortion?”
“Even after my third. The dreams didn’t start ‘till last year.” Dr. Baker nodded as if she was familiar with Sarah’s dreams. “Are you comfortable talking about that?”
Sarah nodded and her face grew pale as she bit her lip. I’ve been there, Sarah, Maggie thought. “About a year ago, I started dreaming about my babies. All three of them. And there, in my hours of sleep, I began to really know them. There were two girls and a boy.”
Silence echoed through the room for a moment, and Maggie felt a unified concern for this girl who had so clearly suffered for her choices. This time Sarah clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Of course I don’t know if my babies really would have been two girls and a boy. But in my dreams they’re the same each time. Three babies, each in a crib, and me in the middle. One by one I would take them in my arms and love them, snuggle them the way I never … never got to—”Sarah hung her head and wept.
Several group members went to her then, each placing a hand of support on Sarah’s knees or shoulders.
Maggie wanted to join them, but she remained frozen in place.
“Do you want to stop, Sarah?”
The girl sniffed loudly and shook her head. “No, I’ve come this far. I want to finish if that’s okay.”
“Of course. Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”
Sarah sat up straighter, and those who had surrounded her eased back to give her space. “The dream always changes then. After loving each of my babies, the room gets dark and a strong wind begins to blow. Then one at a time I’d take my little babies and walk them to the edge of a cliff. And … and throw them over the edge. I would look over and w-w-watch them until they disappeared. And I would know I was the most awful person in the world.”
Sarah’s body convulsed from the silent sobs that assaulted her. Maggie imagined living through such a dream, over and over and over again, and tears filled her own eyes. How had the girl survived such torment?
“Sarah, you know you don’t have anything to fear anymore, right?” Dr. Baker leaned over her knees bringing her that much closer to Sarah.
“I know. The dreams stopped as soon as I confessed everything to Christ. He forgives me, and in my head I know I can go on without the guilt. But … ” She swallowed thickly. “I can still hear their cries as they fall into the canyon. And somewhere in heaven there are three little babies that should be—” a single sob escaped—“five, four, and two years old.”
Maggie felt her own tears turning into deep, desperate sobs. She wasn’t alone. There were other mothers who had turned their backs on their babies to make their own lives easier. But there was one difference. She had actually held her baby and then tossed her over a canyon’s edge. Or she might as well have done so. She had wanted to keep her little girl, but had instead given her away for the love of Ben Stovall. The wave of tears continued to wash over her.
The group uttered its support to Sarah, looking furtively at Maggie and the avalanche of pain that had been released. Dr. Baker took control. “Sarah, why don’t you and the others take a ten-minute break, and then we’ll meet back here. I think we’ve shared enough for this session, and I’d still like to spend some time looking at Scripture and talking about honesty.”
Maggie remained in her seat, her head down, tears still flowing, as the others quietly filed out of the room. Dr. Baker moved to the chair next to Maggie’s and placed a hand on her knee. “Touched a nerve?”
Maggie’s head was spinning and she tried to remember what Dr. Camas had said. Would Dr. Baker know her entire history? Had he shared it with her before assigning Maggie to the woman doctor’s group session? Maggie was, after all, a well-known personality. Dr. Baker would certainly know that much. The woman behind the “Maggie’s Mind” column shouldn’t be falling apart like this, in public, in group therapy, while a patient at a psychiatric hospital.
Let no deceit come from your lips …
No deceit? Maggie feared the thought. No deceit meant being transparent with people she’d never met. Her heart raced and a thin layer of perspiration broke out on her forehead. She couldn’t tell the truth, could she?
“Maggie … do you want to talk before the others come back?” Dr. Baker’s voice was patient, and suddenly Maggie knew the murmurs about avoiding deceit could only have come from a holy God. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Maggie chose to heed the counsel God had given her.
“Yes.”
Dr. Baker crossed one leg over the other and Maggie silently thanked her for not seeming in a rush. She wasn’t even sure she knew what to say. “How did it make you feel?”
Maggie thought about that for a moment. How did it make her feel? Guilty, of course. And like an awful wretch. “I … I guess I did the same thing she did. Only mine wasn’t in a dream.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Maggie wiped her tears and tried to compose herself, but still the sobbing continued. “No. I … I gave my baby girl up for adoption and then lived as if I’d never … never had her. Like she’d never existed.”
“Oh, Maggie.” Dr. Baker stroked Maggie’s back the way her mother had done when she was a child, before Maggie grew too old to warrant her attention. “Maggie, giving your baby up for adoption isn’t the same as tossing her into a canyon. Many times it’s the very kindest choice of all.”
Maggie’s tears came harder. How could this stranger understand? Help me, God … the darkness is closing in quickly. “I can’t talk about it now.” The others were returning without a word, careful not to interrupt her discussion with Dr. Baker.
“Very well. We can talk about it later. Perhaps you could come to group twenty minutes early tomorrow?”
Maggie nodded and sat up straighter in her chair. She controlled her tears for the remaining hour of group time and barely registered the things Dr. Baker was saying about honesty and God’s love. Something about a fictitious town named Grace where everyone lived in the sunshine and transparency of truth. A place completely motivated by the love of God.
Many of the others shared their thoughts on such a place, but Maggie kept silent. Every now and then a tear would slither down her cheek. Even later when she was in her room she couldn’t shake the mantle of desperation that had settled over her.
There was a reason for feeling this way, and Maggie didn’t believe any amount of counseling or talking to God could ever make it go away. The reason was a living, breathing child who was being raised by someone else. All because she was afraid of telling the truth to Ben Stovall.
As Maggie fell
asleep, she couldn’t decide which emotion burned-stronger inside her: the aching loss for the child she’d never known or her hatred for the man who had demanded nothing less than perfection from her. The man for whom she’d lived a lie for the past eight years.
The man who had by his standards forced her to throw her tiny daughter over the edge of a canyon, then watch in agony until she disappeared forever.
18
Nancy Taylor paced the living room floor of her modest ranch home and wished for the tenth time that hour that Dan were still alive. His lungs had never been strong, not really. So when he caught pneumonia three years back during one of the coldest weeks that winter, doctors said there wasn’t much they could do. His body stopped working, pure and simple, and in two weeks time the illness claimed his life.
At first all there’d been were the memories—fond scrapbook pages that filled her mind and helped her pass the time. Nancy and Dan had been married a month shy of forty years, after all. But eventually time had a way of bringing to light the tasks at hand. Seasons changed, children and grandchildren filtered through the house, until one weekend the previous year Nancy woke up and realized she’d actually done it. She’d learned how to live life without her beloved Dan.
All that changed last night when she got the call.
Ben Stovall was his name, and Nancy had the uncanny feeling he was not some wacko from the big city, not some traveling salesman looking to sell a big-time insurance policy or a Kirby vacuum system. He’d said he was married to Maggie and really that was all he needed to say.
Though Nancy couldn’t be sure of the young man’s last name, back when Maggie lived with her and Dan she definitely was smitten by a boy named Ben. That much was certain. And thinking about Maggie brought every memory of Dan and the kids and that time in their lives back to mind.
Maggie Johnson.
Taking her in had been the Christian thing to do. Nancy and Dan had only discussed the idea for a few minutes before bowing in prayer and agreeing together that however crowded they might be, there was room for Maggie.
At first, the pale young woman hadn’t opened up much. She’d been helpful and quiet and kept to herself. But as her due date neared she gravitated to Nancy, sharing the feelings in her heart and finally talking about Ben, the boy who made her blush at the mention of his name, the boy she loved so desperately.
Nancy stopped pacing and closed her eyes. For a moment she could see Maggie, lovely and radiant in her ninth month of pregnancy despite the emotional battle waging war in her heart. “Mrs. Taylor, this is the right thing, isn’t it? Giving the baby up for adoption?”
Back then Nancy had been so certain of her answer. “Yes, dear. Of course it is. You have a lifetime of babies and marriage ahead of you. If this weren’t the right thing, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”
In fact it was Dan who had first expressed doubts on the subject. Late one night while Maggie was sleeping he had pulled Nancy aside and frowned sadly. “I’m worried about her.”
“Maggie?”
“Yes. I think she’s getting herself too attached to that baby she’s carrying.” Dan struggled for a moment and doodled a design on the hardwood floor with the toe of his boot. “Ah, I don’t know, Nancy. You and me understand, how it is with babies. They’re for keeps. Not something you can give away lightly.”
“Dan, it’s different with Maggie. She’s not married, and she’s not ready to be a mother. She said so herself. Adoption is a beautiful thing when the—”
“I know all that. For goodness sake, Nancy, my own two sisters were adopted. Adoption is wonderful for most people, but maybe not for Maggie. Watch her sometime. See how she holds her belly just so and strokes it when she thinks we ain’t looking. She’s getting attached, I tell you, and I think she might be making the mistake of her lifetime to give that baby up.”
Nancy remembered the evening as though it were yesterday. She had considered her husband’s words back then, but written them off. Besides, a woman knew more about these things than a man. Yes, Maggie was confused and anxious, but that was to be expected. Adoption still was the best possible choice. How could Maggie be ready for motherhood when she hadn’t been willing to discuss her pregnancy with any of the people who mattered to her? Besides, there were so many childless couples desperate to have a baby. Certainly Maggie’s child would be cared for and loved, nurtured in a way that Maggie never could have done at her age.
Nancy sighed. Eventually the baby was born, and Maggie had given her up. But far from the relief Nancy had expected, almost overnight a light burned out in Maggie’s eyes. For the next month—until she returned home to Akron—Maggie would cry herself to sleep. Even now Nancy could hear the muffled sound of that sweet girl weeping for her baby.
Why didn’t I do something back then? Nancy gazed out the window, watching for the car Ben had described. In the years since Maggie left she hadn’t stayed in touch … but Nancy had come to believe that Dan’s whispered words late that night so long ago had been right all along.
It had been a mistake for Maggie to give up her baby.
The awful truth about the whole thing was that there’d been nothing any of them could do about it after the fact. Dan never brought it up again the way he had that night in the kitchen. But every now and then, when a television program would end and they’d turn off the set and make their way up the stairs to bed, he’d pause at the landing and mutter out loud, “I wonder how Maggie’s doing … ”
It was a statement that hadn’t demanded an answer, and Nancy generally said nothing in response. Still the image hung in their home—and in their hearts—a moment. As it always would. And that was when Nancy would wonder why she hadn’t seen it the way Dan had back when Maggie was nine months pregnant.
Why hadn’t she asked more questions? Made Maggie call her parents and come clean about her pregnancy, or tell Ben—whoever he was—that there was a baby in the picture? She could have encouraged Maggie to keep the baby, but she had done nothing of the sort. Why?
Nancy had no answers for herself. Not years ago when Dan was alive, and not now.
She opened her eyes, glanced out the window, and searched for the navy blue Pathfinder. Nothing yet. It was 2:45 and, according to Ben’s call, he’d arrive sometime in the next fifteen minutes. Her feet propelled her from one side of the room to the other as she considered the situation.
She still couldn’t imagine why he’d contacted her.
The man had been polite. He’d introduced himself as Ben Stovall and asked permission to visit the following day. How in the world had he found their number? Nancy stopped pacing and thought about that for a moment. There was only one answer. Somehow Maggie’s mother must have held onto it all these years and now Maggie was in trouble. If that were the case, then Ben Stovall—the same Ben, Nancy guessed, that had caused Maggie to blush eight years ago—needed help.
Nancy began moving again, and this time she paced herself into the kitchen where two envelopes lay on the freshly wiped Formica countertop. The first held a slip of paper on which she’d written the name of the social worker who had handled Maggie’s adoption case. Though Nancy hadn’t doubted Maggie’s choice those long years ago, she had always felt it wise to tuck away that information. After all, if Maggie hadn’t held onto it—and Nancy doubted that she had, as confused and distraught as she had been after her baby’s birth—there might be no one else who would know how to link Maggie with the baby she’d given up.
The second envelope was sealed, and inside was a letter for Maggie. Nancy had written it a few months after Dan’s death, on a sunny morning with the house absolutely silent … that was the moment she first realized Dan had been right.
In part the handwritten letter was an apology from Nancy for not encouraging Maggie to follow her heart. But it was also a prayer to almighty God. For though Nancy had not kept in touch with Maggie, and though she might never know what happened to Maggie’s baby, God knew. He knew as surely as He knew the nu
mber of hairs on her head.
And so the letter was part prayer, asking God to keep special watch over Maggie’s little one and begging Him to reunite them one day, should His will warrant such a meeting.
Nancy wasn’t sure what Ben Stovall wanted to talk about or what could be so important that he would drive straight from Cleveland to meet with her in person. But whatever it was, he would leave her house with the two envelopes.
After so many years of doubting her actions during Maggie’s pregnancy, this one act was the least she could do for the girl who’d been so dear to Dan and her. The only thing she could do.
19
By his estimation, Ben Stovall was ten minutes from Nancy Taylor’s house and he pushed the accelerator as far down as he safely could.
Why, Maggie? Why are you doing this to us? Did you really have to lie to me about Israel?
He asked the questions countless times on the five-hour drive from Cleveland to Woodland, and still he had no answers. There were other questions, too … horrible concerns about the things McFadden had said, but Ben refused to think those things through. He couldn’t stand doing so.
Besides, after today he would probably have more answers than he wanted.
He felt the familiar thickening in his throat and blinked back tears. Why, God? What did I ever do to make her lie to me? We did everything right, didn’t we? Followed Your plan, sought You at every turn? Why has it come to this? Ben was baffled at what had become of his life. Two weeks ago he and Maggie were happily married, their foster boys were flourishing in their care, and he had never had a run-in with the law in any way, from any angle. Now …
He gave a humorless laugh. Now his wife was in a mental hospital refusing to see him, while her former boyfriend—a drug-dealing street thug, no less—had told who knew how many lies about his relationship with Maggie. A relationship that happened the year before she and Ben had married.
A Kingsbury Collection Page 54
