They’ll just scrape away the tissue, then it’s all over …
They’ll just scrape away the tissue, then it’s all over …
She put her hands against the sides of her face and shook her head, wishing all those thoughts away. “I have to go.” She was through the door before Miss C could even get up.
Everything in the center rushed by her.
“Linn, please call or come back anytime, OK?”
They were the last words Linn heard before the door closed behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eyes closed, Paula could feel the brush gliding up her cheekbones. Then gentle fingers stroked in an arched pattern. She felt his breath tickling the hairs by her ear.
“Ah, that is much better,” Dante said.
She opened her eyes and watched him in the mirror. He began singing “Return to Me,” his Italian accent soothing away her worries. He picked up the eyeliner brush, wet it, then swept it through the brown powder.
“Close your eyes, mia cara.”
Ah, she loved the way he said that. It was a good thing he wasn’t doing her lips yet. She didn’t think she could tug the corners down if she tried. Dante was the result of eighteen months of begging for a makeup artist. That was the problem with this small-town network. They thought small. If you thought small, you’d be small. One day she’d be at a larger network, doing more important work, but for now, she’d make do with what she had. It was a small town, but she was the news anchor.
Next on her list of accomplishments was pregnancy. She hoped it didn’t take as long as the career goal. David had hardly said anything when she’d left the house. But then, that was normal. He’d dropped his perfunctory kiss on her cheek and—
“Open,” Dante said.
She did. His handsome face was inches away.
“Perfect.”
He moved away too soon. When he returned, she closed her eyes again, feeling the sweep of the tiny brush across her eyelid.
“How was your group this morning?” she asked. Dante’s makeup job was only part-time. His other job as a whitewater boatman at Snake River Adventures was what kept his muscles so defined.
“Ah, they were a lot of fun. Teenagers from a church group. Good kids.”
Paula bet the girls all hoped they’d fall in so Dante would have to rescue them.
“Open.” He gave a satisfied grunt, and she closed her eyes again as he went to work on her eye shadow. He’d choose the right shades to bring out her green eyes. When he was finished, her face would look natural, as if God had created it that way.
God. It seemed like she hardly ever thought of Him anymore. She knew her parents were disappointed with her sporadic appearances at church, but she couldn’t live her life to please them. She was a grown woman. And so often, David had open houses on Sundays. She hated going to church alone.
She wondered if David would make a doctor’s appointment today. She’d already made hers with the fertility specialist her doctor had recommended. At first, the secretary said it would be a two-month wait to get in, but once Paula had ever-so-subtly dropped her name, the woman had somehow found an opening in about a week. Fame had its privileges.
“Open.” His long, wavy hair hung down both sides of his face, framing his high cheekbones. How could a man with long hair look so incredibly masculine?
“Perfect.” He practically purred the word. His eyes connected with hers. Her stomach clenched. Then his gaze flitted down her face and settled for just a second on her lips.
“Twenty minutes!” Ron Hall, the producer, called out the warning.
Dante turned to find the right shade of lipstick, and Paula drew a deep breath, determined to put thoughts of Dante behind her.
“See you next week,” Natalie said to Angela, a volunteer. “If Linn should call—”
“I know, I know, give her your cell number.” Angela softened the reply with a smile.
Natalie slung her purse over her shoulder and exited the center. Her thoughts turned to dinner. Did she have any spaghetti sauce, or had she used that jar last week?
Her heels crunched across the scattered gravel on the lot as she made her way to the Suburban. Suddenly, a blast exploded from somewhere. The ground shook under her feet. What in the world? It was too loud to be a backfire, and fireworks didn’t shake the ground. She turned and rushed back to the center.
Angela was already outside. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Around them, people filed out of buildings. “But it sounded pretty close. And it came from that direction, I think.” She pointed toward the edge of town.
“Do you think it was a bomb?” Angela asked.
“I can’t imagine that happening here.” But what else could it have been? Thankfully, her parents’ house, where her boys were, was in the opposite direction. The station where Paula worked, however, was not. “I think I’ll go check it out.”
“I’ll go flip on the radio,” Angela said.
Natalie rushed to her Suburban, turning the key over with hands that shook. Bombs didn’t happen in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It was a ski resort town. A tourist attraction. A scenic, picturesque place where people came to experience peace and nature’s beauty.
She only made it a few blocks before she had to park. People were milling everywhere. Business people, waitresses, tourists. She joined the throng.
Black smoke filled the air. The sheriff was already on the scene, pushing the crowd back and putting up barriers. When Natalie stood on her tiptoes, she saw the busted windows of the Women’s Health Clinic. The side of the brick building was crumbled. Debris littered the road and sidewalk. Muted chatter surrounded her.
“Wow, I wonder if anyone was hurt?”
“I feel like I’m still in L.A. Can you imagine, something like this happening here?”
“Is that an abortion clinic?”
“I’ll bet one of those pro-lifers did it.”
“I’ve never felt anything like it. It was like someone pushed me as hard as they could.”
“I hope everyone’s OK.”
Natalie heard a siren wailing. She pushed through the crowd to get closer. Maybe she could help.
“Excuse me, excuse me. I’m a nurse.” Some parted willingly; others resisted. It didn’t matter; she had to help if she could.
She was nearly to the blockade when an ambulance arrived, its siren shrieking across the block. The workers jumped out and rushed into the building.
She got an officer’s attention. He must’ve been new, since he didn’t look familiar. “Excuse me, I’m a nurse, can I help?”
He looked at the building, where the clinic’s sign lay among glass shards on the sidewalk. “Fire department is assessing the situation, but I think we have enough help.”
A gray-haired woman shoved through the crowd across the street and approached an EMT. From her panicked gestures, Natalie guessed she had a loved one who worked at the clinic.
She breathed a prayer for the building’s occupants as she turned to make her way back to her vehicle. An attack in her own car, a bomb at a clinic … what was happening to their town?
Her car seemed to find its way to her parents’ without any help. She tapped on the door, then opened it.
“Mom?”
“We’re in the kitchen,” her mother called.
Taylor stood on a chair beside her mom, stirring something in a mixing bowl. Beside him, Alex wore a white apron that dragged the ground.
They greeted her enthusiastically, and she hugged them, not caring about the flour that transferred onto her blouse.
“My turn,” Alex said.
“Is not, is it, Grammy?”
“One more minute, Alex.” She tossed Natalie a smile that made her look ten years younger than her actual fifty-five years. “How was your day, dear?”
“Fine, Mom.” Natalie glanced at her watch. The news would be on in three minutes. “Can you come in the living room a minute?”
Her mother assessed he
r with a quick look. “Sure. All right, Taylor, it’s Alex’s turn.” He reluctantly turned over the wooden spoon.
Natalie went to the living room and flipped on the small television to see a local commercial.
Beside her, her mom wiped her hands on a checked dish towel. “What’s wrong?”
“There was an explosion in town. Just as I was leaving the center. It was the Women’s Health Clinic.”
“Oh no. Are you sure?”
She nodded and nudged up the volume button. “I went to the scene. I was worried about Paula because of the direction the blast came from. An ambulance, the fire department, and the police were there.”
“Was it a bomb, do you think?”
“I don’t know. I hope not, but since it’s the clinic, it makes you wonder.”
The news came on, showing a close-up of Paula and the other reporters. The music faded away, and the camera panned in.
“Good evening, I’m Russ Marrick.”
“And I’m Paula Landin-Cohen. Thanks for joining us. At four thirty-eight this afternoon, an explosion rocked the northeast quadrant of Jackson Hole. For more on that, let’s go to Mike Henkly, who’s on the scene. Mike, what can you tell us about the situation?”
The picture changed to Mike, who stood in front of the clinic. Behind him was a gaping hole where the windows had been.
“Good evening. I’m standing on Pearl Street in front of the Women’s Health Clinic, where a bomb apparently detonated at four thirty-eight this afternoon.”
“Oh, good heavens,” her mother said.
“Firefighters, police, and EMS immediately reported to the scene. Initial reports suggest there are two people injured, but no one is believed to have died in the blast. Police aren’t speculating yet who may be responsible for this act. That’s all the information I have for now. Back to you, Paula.”
The picture switched back to the newsroom.
“Thank you, Mike. We’ll get back with you later as more details are available.” Paula went on to other news, but Natalie turned down the volume.
“I just hate it when this stuff happens,” Natalie said. “People get hurt or killed, and what does it solve?”
“Do you think it was some misguided pro-lifer?” her mom asked.
“I hope not.” Actually, that was exactly what she thought, but she didn’t want to believe it herself. Why did these people think they could change anything this way? All it did was cast a shadow on the pro-life cause.
They flipped off the TV and joined the boys in the kitchen. Since her mother had already started dinner, Natalie and the boys joined her. She was thankful she didn’t have to go home and figure out what to make tonight.
Later that night, after the boys were tucked in bed, she sat up waiting for the late news. When the news channel music began, she turned up the volume on the set.
“Good evening, I’m Russ Marrick.”
“And I’m Paula Landin-Cohen. This afternoon at four thirty-eight, two people were injured when a bomb ripped through the Women’s Health Clinic on Pearl Street. Investigators on the scene say the bomb was planted in a dumpster behind the clinic. One nurse and one patient received minor injuries. Here’s what Doctor Lewis, one of the clinics doctors, said.”
The screen filled with a man who looked to be fortyish and wore a white lab coat. Natalie had seen him before, but they’d never spoken. “I was in my office at the time of the explosion. I’ve never felt anything like it. There was smoke and chaos … it was just terrible. Thankfully, no one was killed.”
A voice sounded, though the camera stayed on Doctor Lewis. “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”
The doctor shook his head sadly. “We’ve gotten two letters recently. Threats. I’m afraid the clinic, and the two injured women, have been targeted by some anti-abortion group.”
Natalie closed her eyes. She could hardly believe she was watching the local news. This was something they sometimes saw on the national news, but not here. Not in Jackson Hole.
Paula appeared on screen again, her auburn hair glistening under the lights. “There you have it. Join us tomorrow morning for another update and tomorrow night for an interview with Barbara Franklin from the National Pro-Choice Organization.”
Natalie grabbed the remote and flipped it off. Great, just great. They were going to point fingers at the pro-lifers and paint them all with the same brush as some demented idiot who may or may not have done this.
She went to bed and set the alarm to catch the early news. It was her day off from the center, but this was too important to miss. She lay awake thinking of the news and Paula. She couldn’t help but be perturbed at her sister. She may not write all the news, but she surely had some say in what was done. She wondered where her sister even stood on the issue of abortion. But for the first time, she wondered if she even wanted to know.
Natalie barely had time to make coffee before the news began, so when she sat on the couch, her mind was still sleep-fogged. She flipped the TV on and sank against the cushions, hoping the coffee would brew extra fast this morning. Hopefully, the boys would sleep in, since they’d gotten to bed late.
The morning news team welcomed the viewers before pitching right into a recount of the bomb story.
“ Because the Women’s Health Clinic is the only abortion provider in the area, and because the clinic had been receiving threatening letters, investigators believe the bomb is the result of opponents of abortion. Recent violence by anti-abortion demonstrators has included the killing of a doctor in Seattle and bombings in Atlanta and Chicago.”
The screen showed pictures of the results of those bombings, then cut to another picture.
Natalie sucked in her breath. It was the center. Her center.
“Centers such as this one, the Hope Center, here in Jackson, discourage women from having abortions. Here’s what Dr. Addison from the Women’s Health Clinic says about the Hope Center.”
The picture cut to a woman Natalie didn’t recognize. She leaned forward, fully awake now.
“I’m sure they’re doing what they think is right. But they’re spreading inaccurate information to the women who go there. The misinformation confuses girls who are already in a state of confusion and lays a heavy load of guilt on their young shoulders. And the misinformation fuels people to violent behavior.”
The newscaster reappeared at her desk.
“Join us tonight for an interview with Barbara Franklin from the National Pro-Choice Organization. And now for a look at the weather.”
“Oh no. No no no!” How could they allow such things to be said on TV? It wasn’t true! She flung the remote control down on the couch and glared at the screen. She and her colleagues told the truth to these girls; it was the clinic that spread lies. Why hadn’t they contacted her for a statement? It was all so incredibly one-sided, she wanted to shriek in anger. How many women had heard that statement, and how many would never go to the Hope Center because of it?
Had Paula known about this? She walked to the kitchen and picked the phone up. With angry jabs, she punched in Paula’s number.
The phone rang four times before being picked up. “Hello?” It was David, and his voice cracked.
She realized the hour, but was too upset to care. “David, it’s me, Natalie. Is Paula there?”
“Um, yeah—” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, here she is.”
The phone crackled. She could hear movement. “Hello?” her sister croaked.
“Paula, it’s me. I was just watching the news, and I couldn’t believe what they showed—”
“Nat, it’s six a.m.”
“I know its early, but this is important. Did you know your station showed a picture of the center this morning? They had a statement from a doctor saying that the center was handing out false information. Did you know about this?”
“Of course I didn’t know.”
She heard Paula saying something to David.
“Hold on,” she said to Natalie. “O
K, I’m back.”
“Did you know they’re doing an interview tonight with Barbara Franklin?” Natalie waited. She could almost feel her blood pressure rising more by the minute. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you. Yes, I know about the interview. It’s via satellite, but Saturday news isn’t well-viewed, if it makes you feel any better.”
Natalie didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved. Maybe her sister could help her cause. Could help the center’s cause. “What’s the purpose of it? Why are they twisting this bomb thing?”
“They’re not twisting anything, Nat. They’re just writing news. Some pro-life nut probably put the bomb there. It’s happened too many times before. The media is all about angles. Abortion is a big controversy, and the media is bound to capitalize on that.”
“If they want controversy, then why are they only covering one side of it?”
Paula sighed. “I don’t know. Listen, I’ll check into it today, all right? I’ll see what I can do.”
Natalie covered her face with her hand. “I can’t believe this.”
“Calm down. I’ll look into it and get back with you, OK?”
“All right.”
She got off the phone and paced around like a mental patient. This is ridiculous. I have to stop this. It isn’t doing any good. She stopped in her tracks, remembering the One who could do something about the situation.
OK, God, I don’t understand what’s going on here. Were trying to do something good at the center, and along comes some psycho and ruins everything. She took a deep breath and let it out. Help me to give this to You and trust You to work it out.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Taylor stood in his superhero jammies, rubbing his sleepy eyes. Those were always the first words from his mouth in the morning.
“What are you doing up so early, Sport?”
“I’m hungry.”
She got up and looked through the pantry. It was time to go to the grocery. Past time. She pulled out a box of pancake mix, relieved that it only required water. “All right, it’s going to be a few minutes. How about you help me with it?”
Alex was up by the time the pancakes were stacked on their plates. After smearing pats of butter on their stacks, the boys dove in like they were starving. Maybe she should cook breakfast more often. And spend more time just doing fun stuff together. It seemed she was always working at the center or catching up on chores here at home.
Saving Grace Page 6
