by Judy Duarte
Shana glanced at Mr. Iverson, who’d apparently been watching over things while Kristy was gone.
“If you’d like to go home,” she told him, “I can take over from here.”
Mr. Iverson looked at Gram as though requesting her permission to leave.
“That’s a good idea, Charlie. Then you can check on the dog. Jason and I will be fine with Shana.”
“All right, then. I’ll take you up on that offer. When I first came over here, I’d thought it would just be a few minutes. But with all the excitement, it’s turned into hours, and I really need to feed my dog.”
Gram thanked him for coming over, and as he slipped on his jacket and reached for his umbrella, she added, “You be careful walking on those wet sidewalks.”
“I will.” Then he let himself out and shut the door behind him.
Shana took a seat on the sofa, and Gram used the remote to shut off the television.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” Gram said. “I’ll bet you and your parents are not only excited, but busy.”
Shana cleared her throat. “I’m afraid there isn’t going to be a wedding. That’s what I came to tell Kristy.”
Gram’s expression faltered. “Why not?”
Before Shana could answer, Jason ran into the room and wrapped his arms around her in a big hug. “Hi, Aunt Shana. I thought I heard your voice.”
“Hey, Jaybird. I missed you, sweetie.” And that was the truth. Shana loved that little boy as though he were her own son.
He ended the embrace long before she was ready to let go. “I’m building a super cool spaceship in my room, Aunt Shana. So I gotta go finish it.”
“Before you do,” Mrs. Smith interrupted, “I want to know if you ever found that green metal file box I asked you to look for.”
“Sorry, Gram. I looked and looked in that bedroom upstairs and in the closet, but I couldn’t find it. And it’s not in the tree house. I checked when I got mom’s music box and the money.”
“I can’t imagine where it is.” She frowned and looked at Shana. “We’ve been losing things around here lately. I wish I could make it up those darn stairs and look around myself. I’m sure I could find everything that’s missing.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Shana asked.
“No, I’m afraid not. I’ll have to ask Kristy to look for it when she gets home.”
Jason, who apparently decided he was no longer being quizzed, dashed out of the room.
Shana watched him go, a longing in her heart so strong, so warm, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I adore that boy.”
“I know. I hope you have one just like him someday.”
The tears that had been bubbling at the surface burst forth and spilled over. Using the length of her index fingers, she brushed them away.
“What’s the matter?” Gram asked.
Shana tried to smile and shrug off the incredible sadness, the ache. “I love that little boy so much it hurts.”
“Are those happy tears?” Gram asked.
Shana wanted to agree, but she couldn’t seem to use her mother’s old excuse. Not after the heartfelt promise she and her parents had just made to be honest with their feelings from now on.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to share her dark, ugly secret, either, and the floodgates opened, releasing a stream of tears that she struggled to wipe away.
For the past seven years, she’d kept her secret, her pain, close to the vest. The only one who’d ever known about it had been Brad, which is why she’d felt a bond with him. Why she’d wanted to do what she could to help him.
“I might be old and out of touch,” Gram said, “and my body is certainly useless, but I still know heartbreak when I see it.”
Shana was tempted to open up to the woman who’d been a better grandmother to her than the one she had, but the burden had been shoved so deep inside that she wasn’t sure if it would ever come out.
Or, if it burst free, whether it would destroy her completely.
“Do you want to talk about it, honey?”
“I don’t think I can.” Shana had never even told Kristy, although she’d been tempted to many times over the years.
At first, she’d been too ashamed. And then Kristy’s whole life had fallen apart, and Shana hadn’t had the heart to dump any more on her. As the years wore on, she’d never found an appropriate time to share.
Maybe she was still too ashamed.
“Sometimes it helps to share a burden,” Gram said, the warmth in her maternal smile reaching deep in her tired blue eyes. “And I’m good with secrets.”
She might not be with this one.
Yet in spite of Shana’s best efforts to shove the dark memory back where it belonged, it rose to the surface and wadded in her throat. The tears streamed down her cheeks, and she feared she would explode if she didn’t open her mouth.
“I… uh …” She sucked in a wobbly breath, then forced it out. “I did something I’m ashamed of. Something unforgivable.”
“It may feel shameful, but forgiveness is a lot easier than you think.”
Shana desperately wanted to believe her, and as she looked into those tired old eyes, as she sensed the compassion and wisdom that had accrued over the years, the truth tumbled out. “Seven years ago, I got pregnant.”
Gram didn’t respond right away, but when she finally spoke, she asked, “Did you lose the baby?”
Shana wished that she had. Then she would have been able to deal with the loss that had haunted her nearly every day of her life.
“No one knows about this,” Shana said. “Not even Kristy. But I was so afraid of facing my parents, of disappointing them, that I …”
So close. So very close.
Like a small child jumping into the arms of a loving parent in the deep end of the pool, Shana closed her eyes and let go of her apprehension. “I had an abortion.”
There. It was out. And now Shana was sorry that it was.
Gram had never been able to have children. Would she find Shana’s act abominable? Would she recite biblical platitudes and point her finger at her for such an unforgiveable sin?
Maybe Shana had chosen the wrong person to tell. She stole a peek at Gram, only to see that same expression she’d worn moments earlier.
“You’re apparently struggling with this,” Gram said.
“I am. It’s been seven years, and it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I know that other people have chosen the abortion path and never blinked an eye afterward. But it was the wrong thing for me to do. And it’s been killing me ever since.” Shana was afraid to look the woman in the eye, afraid to see the condemnation. “I want you to understand some thing. At the time, I’d felt backed into a corner. I hadn’t been able to face my mother, so I took the easy way out. And now I can hardly face myself.”
“Have you prayed about this? Asked to be forgiven and released from the guilt that’s crippling you?”
“More times than you can imagine. I’ve begged, cried, and apologized over and over, but it hasn’t helped.”
“Then it’s not God’s forgiveness you need. It’s your own.”
“You’re probably right, but I can’t seem to do it, Gram. Deep in my heart, I wanted that baby. And not a day goes by that I don’t imagine what it might have looked like.”
“What’s done is done, Shana. You have to let it go.”
“I’ve tried, but I can’t.”
“Mistakes and sins are a dime a dozen. We all make them. God’s forgiveness comes easy, but it’s our own that’s hard. Stop punishing yourself, honey.”
“You make it sound easy.”
Gram scanned the room, then pointed to the floor, where a green plastic Army man lay, left behind by the child who’d been playing with it. “Can you hand me that little toy soldier?”
“Sure.” Shana picked it up and gave it to her.
As Gram held the toy in one gnarled hand, she said, “This represents your guilt, troubl
es, and worries—everything you struggle with. God wants to take it from you and throw it into the deepest part of the sea.”
Shana wished it could be that easy.
The elderly woman handed it back to Shana, her frail fingers still wrapped around it. “Here. You be the Lord and take it from me. It’s too much for me.”
Shana reached for the little man, but Gram continued to hold it. In order to do as she was told, she would have to pry it from Gram’s arthritic fingers, but she didn’t want to hurt her.
“Take it,” Gram said, her voice steady and firm.
“I can’t. You won’t let it go.”
“That’s what’s happening to you. You’re burdened by guilt, and you’ve asked God to take it. He’s willing, but He’s not going to jerk it out of your hands. You have to release it, Shana.”
“I’ll try.”
“That may not be enough. The next time that guilt comes back, threatening to rob your joy or your peace of mind, you just give it right back to God.” Lorraine opened her hands, palms up. “Many people clasp their hands when they pray, and that’s fine. But in this case, why don’t you open your hands to remind yourself to let go and to show God you’re serious about giving it up.”
That might help, Shana thought.
“Let’s pray together.” Gram bowed her head, and Shana followed suit.
She clasped her hands, then caught herself and rested her palms up in her lap, her fingers extended.
“Lord, you forgave Shana the very first time she approached you with a heart broken with guilt. But she’s punishing herself, which grieves you. She’s lifting that guilt now, Father, giving it all up to you. Take it from her and grant her the peace you’ve longed for her to have. Then wrap her in your everlasting love and grace.”
Gram continued to pray, and for the first time in years, a sense of tranquility and acceptance settled over Shana, freeing her from the bondage of her own making.
When Gram said “Amen,” Shana did too.
“Thank you,” she told the woman, meaning it from the bottom of her heart.
“Don’t thank me, honey. Thank God.”
“I will, but I was struggling with this for so long, that I wasn’t able to accept His forgiveness. I needed you to put it all in perspective for me. Thanks so much for being here, for listening, for understanding.”
Gram grew silent, pensive. “You know, life is a journey. Sometimes the scenery is lovely, and at other times, the sky is dark and gloomy, the road full of potholes. But along the way, there are lessons to learn. And those lessons come in the strangest ways.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Gram smiled. “For the past few years, I’ve been traveling on a bumpy, treacherous road. I was so tired and wanted to quit my trek, to throw up my useless hands and just give up. But thanks to an unexpected lesson I received a few days ago and one I just had today, a streetlight has come on. I see a turn in the road and a glimpse of the beautiful scenery ahead.”
“What lesson was that?” Shana asked, realizing she’d just had a streetlight moment of her own.
“In a dream, a bearded man came to my bedside, and I told him that I wanted to die.”
“I’m glad that you didn’t,” Shana said, realizing she might never have learned the lesson she’d received tonight if Gram hadn’t been here.
“I’m glad, too. Apparently, the man was right.”
“What did he say?”
Gram smiled, one that radiated warmth and joy. “That I still have work to do on earth.”
Chapter 18
The next morning, at five to nine, Dawn reached for two blue plastic Wal-Mart bags and climbed out of her Honda Civic. After locking the car door, she strode toward the main lobby of Pacifica General Hospital, avoiding the shallow puddles as she zigzagged her way to the front door.
The damp sidewalk and water droplets glistening on the lawns and foliage were all that remained of the rain that had battered the community overnight and moved on at sunrise, leaving the sky with only a splatter of clouds, the air fresh and clean.
She glanced at her watch. Joe would be getting off duty soon and had promised to meet her here. They’d talked on the phone last night and had agreed to do whatever they could to help the poor kid.
The automatic doors swooshed open as she entered the lobby. Up ahead, at an information desk, a silver-haired gentleman watched her approach.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I came to visit Renee …” Dawn paused. She wasn’t sure if the girl’s last name had ever come up, but if it had, she’d forgotten, which left her feeling remiss now. She and Joe had both been drawn to Renee from day one—probably because they’d sensed she was too young to be on her own. It broke Dawn’s heart to think that she’d been living in a tree, and she wished she’d asked more questions. “I’m sorry. That’s all I know her as.”
“Then it’ll take me a while to look her up.” The man turned to the computer at his desk and, using the index fingers of both hands, began poking at the keys slowly and methodically.
He wasn’t kidding; finding Renee could take him all day.
“I’m not sure if this helps,” Dawn said, “but she was in Maternity last night.”
Hopefully, they hadn’t moved her. Several years ago, before her hysterectomy, Dawn had carried one of the babies she’d lost, a little boy, to four months. When she’d miscarried, the nurses had moved her to another floor so she wouldn’t have to be around all the newborns and happy families while she was grieving. Since Joe had mentioned that Renee’s only concern was for her child, Dawn knew what she must be going through.
“That does help,” the man said, as he went back to his hunting and pecking.
Dawn turned her head and scanned the lobby, noting a few people seated on chairs in a waiting area, as well as several lined up at a coffee cart that provided light snacks and beverages. A gift shop staffed by hospital volunteers was still closed, although a woman in a pink smock and white slacks was inside near the cash register.
On her way to the hospital this morning, Dawn had stopped to buy some items she thought Renee might need—a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo, lotion. She’d even purchased a nightgown and slipper socks.
“I found a Renee.” The man squinted as he studied the screen. “I can call the nurses’ desk to make sure it’s the patient you’re looking for.”
“She suffered a fall and was admitted last night,” Dawn added. “The paramedics brought her to the ER.”
A click sounded, and Dawn glanced over her shoulder to see the pink-smocked woman unlock the doors to the gift shop. She wondered if she should pick up some flowers or chocolate for Renee while she was here. Joe had said Renee was really shaken up yesterday, so something cheery might help.
After the man made the call to Maternity, he reported that Renee Delaney appeared to be the patient Dawn was looking for, and that she was in room 422.
“Thank you.” Dawn turned away, but instead of walking to the elevators, she veered to the right and entered the gift shop, a small room that offered a variety of toiletry items, as well as magazines and knickknacks.
A refrigerator display case in back held several small flower arrangements and a few potted plants. She looked them over briefly and chose a bud vase with three yellow roses.
On her way to the cashier, she paused in front of a shelf of stuffed animals. She reached for a teddy bear, then decided she’d better wait. If Renee had lost the baby during the night, the stuffed animal might make things worse. Dawn knew firsthand how badly a woman could grieve after losing an unborn child.
As she waited for the cashier to ring up the flowers, a short, matronly woman entered the shop and went right for the display of stuffed animals. She reached for a fluffy yellow duck.
White lettering on the back of her turquoise T-shirt said:
IF I HAD KNOWN HOW MUCH I WOULD LOVE MY GRANDKIDS, I WOULD HAVE HAD THEM FIRST.
The thought t
hat she and Joe would have neither, tweaked Dawn’s heart. She closed her eyes and tried to shrug off the painful reminder.
You’d think that over the years, after three miscarriages and a hysterectomy, she would have gotten used to the idea that she and Joe would never hear the pitter-patter of little feet in their own home. They truly had resigned themselves to that fact, but at times it still hurt.
“Will that be all?” the cashier asked.
“Yes.” Dawn reached into her wallet and withdrew her Visa.
As the woman ran the card, Dawn glanced at a display rack that held bracelets. They weren’t fancy or expensive, but they were just the kind of thing a teenage girl might like.
A silver chain adorned with heart-shaped charms caught her eye, and she fingered it. She wondered if Renee had ever received a gift for no reason at all, one of those little surprises that told her someone cared.
Dawn suspected that, if she had, those occasions had been rare, and her heart broke for the young girl who should have had a mother or father to love and guide her.
That baby isn’t the only one in need of parents, Pastor Craig had said last night.
The truth of Craig’s words struck like an unexpected wallop.
Dawn and Joe had planned to let Renee stay with them after she was discharged from the hospital, but that poor child needed more than a warm bed. She needed love, security. A real home and family.
“Wait,” Dawn told the cashier. She removed the bracelet from the rack. “I’d like this, too.”
After paying for her purchases, she took the elevator to the fourth floor. All the while, an idea began to fill her heart with hope. She would have to call Joe to run it past him, but only as a marital formality. Joe, who’d come from a family of seven, was an even bigger softie than Dawn was when it came to kids.
An LVN sat at a desk in front of the double door of the maternity wing. When Dawn told her who she was and why she was here, the nurse buzzed the security lock, granting access.
Dawn made her way to room 422 and peered through the open doorway. The patient’s back was to the door, but Dawn would recognize that blond stringy hair anywhere.
