The Bridge Tender

by Marybeth Whalen

  Embarrassed, Emily started to tell her that Amber wasn’t her daughter, but decided not to correct her. What difference did it make if that nurse thought wrong? At the rate she was going, Amber might be the closest she ever got to having a daughter. Never mind that—but for a teen pregnancy of her own—the girl couldn’t be hers. She followed the nurse, thinking how touching it was that Amber had asked for her.

  She found Amber in a small exam room wearing a backward gown, sitting up on a gurney with a blanket over her. “They’re going to do an ultrasound,” Amber said. “To see if there’s a heartbeat.” Emily crossed the room and took a seat on a small wheeled stool beside the gurney. She reached for Amber’s hand and it didn’t feel weird at all. Amber took it, looking grateful. “I just didn’t want to be alone when I found out,” she said.

  In a few moments a tech came in pushing an ultrasound machine on wheels. “So,” she said. “You’ve been having some bleeding?” the tech asked, all business, plugging the machine in and adjusting knobs as Amber began recounting the last few hours to the tech who nodded sympathetically but didn’t seem to need to know the details.

  Once she was happy with the machine, she pushed open Amber’s gown in the middle, revealing a little pooch of stomach. She caught Emily’s eye. “You mom?” she asked.

  “No,” Amber answered for Emily. “My mom’s dead. She’s a friend.”

  The tech just nodded. It was clear she cared nothing about this girl’s life story or current situation. She was just another patient in a long line of patients, probably her last after a long night. “This is going to be cold,” she said.

  Amber inhaled as the gel was squirted on her stomach. She looked at Emily. “She wasn’t kidding.” Emily smiled and was glad that after the drama of the night she could still make a joke.

  They both watched as the screen came to life, a blur of gray and white images flashing. For a few moments there was no sound, just the efficient tech moving the wand across Amber’s belly and entering numbers into the machine. “What do you see?” Amber finally breathed.

  The tech pointed to a little flicker on the screen. “See that?” she asked.

  Emily and Amber nodded in unison. The tech hit a few buttons and a noise filled the room. Whoomp-whoomp-whoomp. Emily thought she knew what it was and found she was holding her breath and fighting back tears as she watched the tech deliver the news to this girl who had just called her “friend.”

  “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

  Amber’s breath caught in her throat and Emily noticed tears welling in her eyes. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl? Can you tell how far along I am? Can you tell when it will be born?” Her words came tumbling out and even the no-nonsense tech had to laugh.

  “It’s too soon to tell what it is—you’ll be able to find out around sixteen weeks along if you’d like. You’re about ten weeks right now.” She entered some more numbers and looked back at Amber. “Says here you’re due around November 30.”

  Amber inhaled again. “Thanksgiving,” she breathed. “It’ll be right after Thanksgiving and before Christmas.” She looked over at Emily. “That’s my favorite time of year.”

  Emily did her best to smile and not go into how hard this would be on Amber, being a single teen parent with no parental support. She didn’t want to tell her that this guy—whoever he was—would most likely stop visiting the motel once he found out about the blessed event to come. Though the harsh realities were on the tip of her tongue she chose to keep quiet and, after a very difficult night, let Amber have this moment of joy. She smoothed Amber’s beautiful hair back, thinking of how pretty that baby—he or she—would be. She would focus on that and that alone for now. She turned back to look at the image on the screen, that tiny determined heartbeat. That baby was still a miracle. Life—as Emily knew all too well—always was.

  After the tech bustled out, the two of them were left to wait for the doctor on call, who was somewhere in the hospital delivering a set of twins and “might be awhile,” as the tech warned. Emily wanted coffee and was about to suggest she go find them something to eat and drink when Amber spoke. “I lied earlier,” she said. She was sitting up again, her gown closed, her arm protectively resting across her stomach.

  “About what?” Emily asked.

  “About my mom. She’s not dead. She left. A long, long time ago. I was a little girl.” She was quiet for a moment, thinking, Emily imagined, about her mother. “My dad did the best he could. Bought the motel so he could be around. Before that he was a fishing boat captain. Took tourists out deep-sea fishing and stuff. He was never around, which is why my mom left, I think. He said she was supposed to come back and get me but . . . she never did.”

  She didn’t meet Emily’s eyes. “Do you think that someone who had a bad mother can be a good mother?” she asked quietly.

  “Sure,” Emily said a little too quickly, her voice a little too perky. “This is your life, not hers.” She thought of her own mother’s life in a fishbowl, consumed with appearances and ruled by what people thought, always pushing that mind-set on Emily. In coming to Sunset, she’d found a place where she didn’t have to live that way. She wondered if maybe Ryan had thought of that each time he made those life insurance payments. “You can choose to do things differently than your parents.”

  Amber seemed to ponder that for a moment. She nodded, using her index finger to trace the edges of the ultrasound photo she held in her lap. “I want the best for this baby,” she said.

  “Of course you do.”

  She stopped moving her finger. “It feels so real, seeing it like that. The heart was beating.”

  Emily nodded, swallowed. “Are you going to tell the father?”

  Amber shrugged. “I’ve tried a few times but I don’t get to see him much, and when I do we never seem to get around to it.”

  Emily thought of him all over her at that ice-cream store. I’ll just bet, she thought but held her tongue. “You should tell him,” she said. “The next time you see him.”

  Amber nodded, ducked her head. “He’s older,” she said. “Out of college already. I’m afraid he’s going to think I’m a stupid little kid for letting this happen.”

  Emily wanted to launch into a sermonette on how Amber wasn’t the only one who “let this happen.” But she held her tongue for a second time, choosing her words carefully. “You shouldn’t have to face this by yourself though. If he cares about you then he should stand by you.”

  Amber looked up at her, a panicked look on her face. “But I don’t know if he cares about me. We never exactly talked about feelings. We were just . . . hanging out. And stuff.”

  Emily sighed, her heart breaking for the girl. She was all alone in the world and she was getting ready to be even more all alone, Emily suspected. Except that now she was responsible for someone else. “Look, when the time is right you can bring it up, let him know and see how he reacts. And I’ll be praying that it will go well.” She forced a smile. “How’s that?”

  “You would . . . pray for me? About this?”

  “Of course.” She gave Amber her best “duh” look, being silly and trying desperately to keep things light.

  Amber smiled back in spite of herself. “I just don’t know if God wants to hear from me after the mess I’ve made. I’m not that much into . . . church and stuff.”

  “Well maybe now’s the time.” She reached across and put her hand on Amber’s knee. “He does want to hear from you, that I can assure you.”

  Amber sighed. “Okay,” she said. Emily was about to suggest they pray right then and there, but the doctor walked in and Emily was shooed from the room because she wasn’t family. She found herself wanting Amber to say, “No, I want her to stay.” But Amber didn’t and Emily exited the room, using the time in the hallway to pray alone instead, asking Jesus to mend that girl’s broken heart, and to somehow prepare her for what was to come.

  Seventeen

  The doctor discharged Amber with orders
to rest for a few days, but didn’t appear overly worried about her or the baby. Though Emily wondered if the danger was truly past, she trusted the doctor and worked to put any lingering worries out of her mind. When she offered to take Amber home with her and let her stay over in her guest room, she didn’t expect Amber to agree, but she did. “It might be best if I stay with you for a while, especially once I tell my dad that I’m pregnant. He’s obviously not going to be very happy about that. And even though he’s never around, he tries to keep tabs on me. So if I tell him I’m staying with you he’ll think I’m safe without having the burden of actually having to take care of me himself.” Her laughter was a forced attempt to make light of the situation and Emily felt a pang of regret for Amber as she drove them both home from the hospital, her hands at ten and two, her eyes on the road. Amber glanced at Emily. “If that’s okay with you,” the girl added.

  Emily felt her eyes on her, the sense of desperation communicated in her piercing green gaze. Amber, tough as she acted, was afraid. Emily attempted to act nonchalant at the prospect of housing a pregnant teen, but the truth was she was afraid too. Afraid of the responsibility, the potential for making a bad situation worse, the emotional toll of being involved to this degree. She wanted to drop the girl back at the motel, pat her on the hand, and wish her luck before zooming away. And yet deep down she felt that her connection to this girl had led to this moment, here in the car. Amber had no one. She was afraid. Emily could be there for her, ease her fears.

  “It’s okay with me.” She glanced sidelong at Amber, caught the relief that flickered across her face, and realized that this may be the best way to truly help this girl. “And maybe once your dad adjusts to the news and you get better, you’ll want to go home.” Beside her she felt Amber tense. “But no rush,” she hurried to add.

  “Thanks,” she said, then turned her head to look out the window. Emily wondered what she saw as the scenery whizzed past. Did she see a place she loved or longed to escape from? Did she ever want to live somewhere else? Had she ever dreamed of doing something more with her life? At her age, Emily had had big plans and bigger dreams. She was going to be a teacher in Africa, marry a doctor who would work alongside her in the mission field. He would treat the people and she would teach them, a partnership forged by a shared passion for ministry and each other. She never intended to live five miles from her parents, marry a guy who wanted nothing to do with Africa, teach at the same private Christian school she had attended. And yet she’d also never dreamed that such a “boring life” could be so full and rich. Amber’s life was ahead of her, and yet it was already hindered because of her bad decisions. Emily wondered if she could help her change that. She would do her best.

  Once home, the two of them collapsed, Emily falling into her own bed and pulling the covers over her head, sleep enveloping her much quicker than she expected it to. She’d envisioned tossing and turning, anxiety building as she processed what she’d just taken on. But once she got Amber settled in the room Marta had used—the one just a few steps from her own—wished her a good sleep, and closed the door to her own bedroom, a numbing fatigue set in, the bed in front of her shining like a beacon. She could worry about Amber later, deal with the ramifications of housing her through a long, private phone call with Marta, who would surely tell her she’d gone too far. “Oh well,” she said in the quiet house. “I’ll have to think about all of that later.” She surrendered to sleep, grateful for the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

  When she awoke, she heard Amber on the phone in the next room, her voice a steady murmur from behind the closed bedroom doors. Emily wondered if she was talking to her father, confessing it all or just telling him she wouldn’t be returning to work and that the aunt who had stepped in to help out at the motel today would be needed on a more permanent basis. Emily rose from her bed, reluctant to leave the room but feeling hungry. She looked at the clock and was shocked to see that it was already two o’clock in the afternoon.

  She opened the door to her bedroom and found she could hear the conversation going on behind Amber’s bedroom door a bit clearer. Though she couldn’t make out every word, she heard bits and pieces. She hoped that things went well with her dad, that somehow he would understand her need to be in a home, with someone looking after her. Or maybe this whole situation would be the wake-up call he needed to start paying his daughter the attention she needed. Was it right to blame the father for Amber’s situation? For sure leaving a girl alone in a motel all the time was negligent. Of course Amber could’ve made different choices, but was she even capable at her age? Alone and uncertain, this guy’s attention was more than she could resist, a child unable to turn away from the candy even though it would surely lead to a stomachache.

  Amber’s laughter was the first clue that she was not talking to her father. No matter what she’d told him or how well he took it, she doubted that there would be cause for laughter, and certainly not the flirtatious giggle she heard. Frowning, Emily crept closer to the door, but as soon as she stepped on the threshold the floor creaked loudly. Amber’s voice quickly silenced. Her heart racing, Emily scurried into the kitchen, attempting to look as if she’d been there the whole time. She entered the kitchen to find the remnants of a sliced apple, a stray slice left to brown on a plate, the peel curled in the sink. A big glob of peanut butter was also smeared on the plate. Amber had been up for a while.

  Suppressing a martyr-like sigh, Emily busied herself with the cleanup, running the plate under hot water and running the disposal after she pushed the peelings into the drain. Amber, she reminded herself, had been under a lot of strain. Cleaning up was probably the last thing on her mind on a good day. And while sleep had come easily to Emily, it had obviously eluded her young friend. The girl was probably exhausted and, no matter who she was talking to, was dealing with the reality of what she’d seen on that ultrasound screen. Emily would need to tread lightly. And yet in the back of her mind, she could hear Marta warning her. She wondered if Ryan would’ve expected this. She smiled to herself as she turned off the spigot. He probably wouldn’t be surprised at all. She might not have made it to the mission field, but he knew her proclivity for finding a mission field everywhere she went.

  The door squeaked open behind her and she turned to see Amber emerge from the guest bedroom, blinking and looking around as if she was surprised to find herself there. “You okay?” Emily asked brightly.

  Amber nodded and gestured at the plate Emily held in her hands. “Thanks for cleaning that up. I was going to but I got a phone call.”

  “It’s no problem,” Emily said, feeling guilty for being miffed with Amber, if even for a moment. If this was going to work, she was going to have to extend much grace. “Did you get any sleep at all?” She put the rinsed plate in the dishwasher and pulled out an apple for herself. Taking a big slurping bite, she followed Amber into the den and took the seat opposite her on the couch.

  “Some,” Amber said, resting her hands primly on her knees, looking like the guest that she was. “I was doing some thinking.” She eyed Emily. “I know I can’t stay here forever and I gotta figure out what to do, you know, long term.”

  Emily took another bite of apple, making a loud chomping noise that made Amber smile. “Well, don’t feel any pressure from me,” she said after she’d chewed and swallowed.

  “I don’t,” Amber rushed to say.

  “What did he say?” Emily asked, working hard to make her face emotionless. She’d love to have some words with the man. Or better yet, sic Marta on him. She suppressed a smile at the thought.

  “I didn’t tell him,” Amber said. “Yet.”

  “Was that him on the phone?” Emily asked.

  Amber nodded again and started picking at her fingernails, chipping off the blue polish in little fragments. Seconds passed as Emily waited for her to say more. She had enough experience with adolescents to know that sometimes silence was the greatest tool. Eventually, growing uncomfortable, they would attempt t
o fill it. This time it worked.

  “He’s coming here soon. When he does, I told him we need to talk. He asked about what, and I said I’d have to tell him face-to-face. I think he suspects but . . .” She raised her eyes to meet Emily’s. “I’m just scared to tell him,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  The raw vulnerability in Amber’s eyes silenced Emily. She had said those very words many times after Ryan was diagnosed—to her mom, to Marta, to God. She’d gone through denial and anger and fear, all things she expected Amber was going through—or would go through—herself. Now wasn’t the time to lecture Amber on the importance of telling this guy, or coaching her on dealing with her father. She would give Amber time and space and when she needed it, a listening ear. That, as far as she could see, was the best thing she could do, the one thing no one else seemed to be offering. She gave Amber a smile and rose from her seat to throw away the apple core. “I’m thinking about tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches,” she tossed out as she headed to the kitchen. “Think you could go for that?”

  When Amber gave her an enthusiastic yes, she took it as a sign that she was doing something right.

  After their late lunch/early dinner, Amber said she was going out to sit on the dock and think. Emily noticed she took her phone and wondered if she would use it to call her father or him. She needed to ask Amber what his name was, maybe get her talking a bit about him instead of being so secretive. She watched her walk across the yard, wondered when her slim figure would start showing signs of pregnancy. At a certain point whether to tell wouldn’t be an option.

  The knock at the door startled her. She crossed the room to answer, hoping she wouldn’t find the adorable faces of her pint-sized neighbors on the other side. She had a real soft spot for Noah and Sara, but she was too exhausted to handle their exuberance today. The look of relief on her face when she saw Kyle standing there could’ve been misconstrued as interest in him. Later she would wonder if he’d taken it that way.