Unlocked: A Love Story
Page 22
He’d miss his chance at ever seeing her again.
As soon as the baby was born, if her father had things his way, the baby would be adopted out to another family and Elizabeth would be brought back home. Probably to some undisclosed location with some other friend or relative. If it meant keeping Elizabeth from John, her father would probably enroll her in some other school. Somewhere far from Michigan. Then Elizabeth’s parents could go on as if John had never existed.
Whatever it took to keep John and Elizabeth apart.
John turned off his flashlight. The highway wasn’t busy, and the few cars that passed him while he checked his engine hadn’t even slowed down. John slammed the hood shut, climbed back behind the wheel and drove on the shoulder to the next off-ramp. The sign above the exit said:
WELCOME TO BLOOMINGTON
John had never heard of the place. He drove his car another few miles along a country road, but he didn’t make it far. The smoke coming from under the hood grew worse and his temperature gauge showed that the engine was overheating. He couldn’t afford to blow a gasket.
Finally he killed the engine again. His heart beat erratically inside him. What was he going to do? He’d come this far and now if he didn’t get help he wouldn’t make it to Elizabeth. John thought about his financial situation. He had twenty-four dollars in ones, cash he’d made helping his classmates study for their medical exams.
Not nearly enough for any major repairs.
He was about to get out of his car and start walking when a light flicked on at a house thirty yards away. John stepped out. Let them be nice, whoever they are. He felt sweat gather on his forehead. A man stepped out onto the porch as John walked slowly up the driveway.
“Can I help you?” The man had a shotgun in his hand. “Or should I call the police?”
John froze and put his hands in the air. “I . . . my car broke down, sir. I’m not sure what to do.”
The man lowered the gun and chuckled. “Must be your lucky day.” He set the gun on a chair and walked down to meet John. “I was a mechanic in the war. Vietnam. Fixed everything.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Wilson Gage.”
“John Baxter.” The two men shook. “I’m trying to meet up with my girlfriend. We’re . . . she’s . . . she’s going to have a baby. I need to be there tonight.”
Wilson Gage raised his eyebrow. “You don’t have much time.”
“No, sir. Not much.”
A slow nod from Wilson. “What’s wrong with your car?”
“Oil pan’s got a leak. It’s too bad to drive.” John felt the weight of the situation. “I need a repair and new oil.” He glanced back at the road. “This time of night not sure where I’ll find either.”
“Well, John. I told you.” Wilson talked like the two of them were old friends. “You broke down at the right place.”
Over the next thirty minutes, Wilson found something to plug up the hole in the oil pan. Then he refilled it with an entire quart of oil. The exact type John needed. “How do you happen to have this stuff lying around?” John couldn’t believe his luck.
“I keep lots of oil around.” Wilson grinned. “Never know when you’ll need it.”
John almost wondered if he’d fallen asleep in his broken down car and he was dreaming. “I don’t have much money, sir. I’m not sure . . . how I can repay you.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Christians are supposed to help people.” Wilson eyed him again, a one-eyebrow-up sort of look. “Tell you what.” The man motioned for John to follow him. “Come inside and talk for a spell. Have a cup of coffee with me and Scarlett. Then you can be on your way and we’ll call it even.”
With a desperate urgency, John wanted to get on the road. But after all the man had done, John could hardly just leave. Better to get it over with. He followed Wilson Gage into the house and sat across from him in the living room.
“Scarlett, love,” Wilson called into the next room. “We got us a guest.” He stood and pointed to a chair. “Sit there. My wife will fix something to warm you up.”
John tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. He didn’t want to be warmed by anyone but Elizabeth. But Wilson had been kind enough to help. He could at least stay and visit. After a few minutes Wilson returned with a pretty brunette. She carried two mugs and a pitcher of what looked like coffee. Wilson had a plate of cookies in one hand, the other one around Scarlett.
John stood out of respect. “Ma’am.”
“This is Scarlett.” Wilson stood a little straighter, his eyes warm as he looked at her. No question the man was proud of his wife. “The love of my life, right here.”
She blushed a bit and set the coffee down on an end table between the two chairs. She reached out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you.” John nodded.
Scarlett waved her hand in the air. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She smiled at Wilson. “Let me know if you need anything, my love.”
“Nothing the Good Lord hasn’t already given me.” Wilson watched her until she was out of sight. Then he turned to John. “So what’s your story, young man? Your girlfriend’s pregnant, living in another state. Has to be a story there.”
John felt the chains of anxiety tighten around his chest. He needed to get out of here. But since there seemed no other way, they both sat back down and John took a sip of his coffee. Then he told Wilson Gage the story. How he’d met Elizabeth at a dance he wasn’t supposed to be at and how they’d quickly fallen in love. Every detail right up to the drinking and losing control.
“Her father sent her away.” John gave Wilson a wary look. “He’s a Christian. Like you.”
Wilson leaned forward in his chair and pointed a finger at John. “Now wait a minute. That man’s not a Christian like me.” He shook his head. “No, no.”
“He says he’s a Christian.”
“That’s it.” Wilson’s eyes lit up. “See, not all people who say they’re a Christian actually are.” He grabbed a Bible sitting on the same end table with the coffee. “The Good Book tells us that. Not everyone who says ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of Heaven. Only those who do what the Lord asks.” He tapped the Bible again. “That’s the truth. Right here, John. It’s all right here.”
If the man was trying to sell him on Christianity, it wasn’t going to work. John took another sip. “Doesn’t seem very Christian for him to send his daughter away.”
“No.” Wilson paused for a moment. “No, it doesn’t.” He took a cookie from the plate and offered one to John.
John took two. Even though he wanted to get on the road, he was hungry. He bit into one and raised his brow. “These are amazing.”
Wilson smiled. “Scarlett can bake. She’s heaven-sent, for sure.” The man finished his cookie and then leveled his gaze at John. “Look, John Baxter. Here’s the way it is.” Wilson sat back in his chair, never breaking eye contact. “This girl you’re going after, the one pregnant with your child . . . do you love her?”
“Very much.” The conversation was getting interesting. “I’d do anything for her.”
“And right now? You’re going there against her father’s wishes.” Wilson seemed beyond perceptive. “That right?”
“Yes, sir.” John waited.
Wilson took another cookie and ate half of it in a single bite. “Pay attention, son. This is something you’re gonna want to remember.” He paused. “God gave you that young woman. And He’ll see you through together. But it’s gonna be hard. So hard you’re gonna wish you could die some days.” He leaned forward. “I mean it. That’s how it was for me in Nam. Wished I could die.”
John could imagine.
“But the whole time I knew I had the Good Lord on my side. Not just with me.” He gave his chest a few hearty pats. “But right here. Inside me. For believers, God’s Spirit is always there, inside us. Talking to us. Working things out for us.” He squinted. “Know what I mean?”
John had no idea. “Sure. Yes, sir.”
“Now hear me.” Wilson leaned forward again. “Jesus did nothing to deserve any of that.” He hesitated, staring deep into John’s eyes. “Know why he did it?”
John had gone to church with the Wesleys when he was younger. He knew about Jesus on the cross. But he had no idea how any of that related to him. “No, sir.”
“For you, John Baxter.” Wilson pointed straight at him. “He did it for you. So you could get through times like the one you’re smack in the middle of right now. And so when this wild ride is over, you and that girl of yours can go to heaven.”
John was twenty-four years old. Heaven felt like it was a million years away. Right now he had to find a way to get through the next few days.
But they’d come this far, so John listened. He had no other choice.
After all, Elizabeth was waiting.
22
Cole and Ashley were gripped by the story, that much was clear. John took a breath and looked at them. “I always hoped I might find Wilson Gage someday, tell him how things worked out and thank him for that night.”
“I can’t believe God led you right to his house.” Cole’s notebook looked full, like he’d taken more notes this afternoon than all the other days combined. “So Wilson Gage told you about Jesus. Even though he didn’t know you.” Cole positioned his pen over the paper again. “You can’t stop there, Papa. What happened next?”
“Yes, please, Dad.” Ashley had tears in her eyes. “I never knew any of this. We have time.”
John couldn’t stop the story if he’d wanted to. “I can still see Wilson, sitting across from me, telling me information he thought I wanted to hear.” He shook his head. “I was so stubborn back then.”
He took a drink of water and once more the years melted away.
• • •
WILSON KEPT TALKING.
Whatever compelled the man to think the young stranger in his house needed his words of wisdom, John didn’t know. But now that he’d told John about Jesus, he had more to say.
“You think you’ve got trouble now.” Wilson picked up the Bible and stared at it a moment. “This whole life here, it’s just earth, John. Just earth. The great adventure begins the day you take your last breath.” He pointed at John again. “That’s when all the suffering here will make sense.”
“Yes, sir.” John finished his coffee and took another cookie. The man was looking at him like he was waiting for John to say something. Or maybe hoping John would make a promise to believe in God. John swallowed a bite of the cookie. “Thank you. For telling me.”
Wilson cocked his head and scrutinized John for a long few seconds. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s just . . . No, sir. I’m sorry. I never could believe in a God who took away my parents when I was so young.” John didn’t want to get into a debate, but he had to be honest. “Not just that. Forgive me, but . . . people do a lot of terrible things in the name of religion. That’s what I’ve seen, anyway.”
Wilson leaned back in his chair and rocked for a while. The whole time he kept his eyes on John. Finally he drew a slow breath. “I’m going to ask God to show you just how much you need Him. Because hear me on this . . .”
John listened.
“You’re right.” Wilson set his half-eaten cookie on the plate and narrowed his eyes. “Parents die, yes. And people do a lot of terrible things. But God’s bigger than religion. He’s bigger than even our greatest losses.” He nodded once. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, sir.” John needed to get going. At this point, he’d say anything for the chance to leave.
Wilson set the Bible in his lap. “All right. I’m gonna pray for you, John. That you and that scared pregnant girl of yours will get married and find faith in Jesus. Faith that will see you through every hard thing ahead right on into eternity.” He grinned. “And in return that God will give you a marriage and family so beautiful all the world will want to know your secret.”
That sounded pretty good, John had to admit. He still didn’t believe. Never would. But at this point he wasn’t sure what else to do but agree. “Uh . . . yes, sir. Thank you.”
Wilson folded his hands on the Bible, bowed his head and prayed. John couldn’t remember every word Wilson said to God that day, but the part that stood out was that last line. That God would give Elizabeth and him a marriage and family so beautiful all the world would want to know their secret.
They were about to stand when Wilson jabbed his pointer finger in the air. “One last thing.”
John lowered himself back to his seat. “Yes, sir?”
“You don’t believe me. I can see that, no use telling me different.” Wilson didn’t look upset by the fact. “But every time you think about this day, I want you to remember something.” His voice dropped a notch. Like he was speaking straight to John’s conscience. “Only God could’ve worked it out so you’d break down in front of my house. Someone who knows how to fix an oil pan and has your kind of oil sittin’ around.”
The slightest chill ran down John’s arms.
“Someone who could tell you about the one thing you need a whole lot more than oil.” Wilson leaned closer and patted John’s knee. “Oil will take you down the road, John. But Jesus will take you all the way home. Know what I mean?”
John still had no intention of changing his mind about God. Right here in some stranger’s living room. But he nodded, anyway. “Yes, sir.” If he didn’t get on the highway, he would miss his chance to see Elizabeth tonight.
Before he left, John thanked Scarlett and Wilson for the snack and the conversation, and especially for fixing his car. Wilson said one more thing to John before he pulled away—his car good as new.
“Don’t forget me now!” Wilson smiled. “You hear?”
“I won’t.” This time John was serious. The man couldn’t convince him to be a Christian, but John would definitely remember this night. It was too strange and fortuitous not to remember.
But once he hit the road, John turned on the music and thought only about Elizabeth. The unusual encounter with Wilson Gage grew more distant with every mile. And sometime around two o’clock that morning John pulled up across the street from the house where Elizabeth was staying. He flipped off the lights and killed his engine.
It looked like any other house on the quiet street. Two stories, gabled windows, shutters and a front porch. No one would know that behind those walls was a houseful of girls who had no choice but to give up their babies. Girls sent away by parents too concerned about appearances to love their daughters through the most difficult time of their lives.
John gritted his teeth and looked for the best way in. Like Wilson, the man of the house might have a gun. In which case John had to be very quiet. If the man woke up and mistook him for a burglar, things could take a terrible turn.
Take your time, he told himself. You’ve come this far. No need to rush. He stepped out of his car and padded silently across the lawn. Every light was off. They were all sleeping. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.
John studied the situation. The front door would be too obvious. He crept along the side of the house and made his way to the back. A cement porch ran across it. Another good sign. No creaking boards with cement. John walked up the steps and with the slightest movement, he tried the door.
In the silence of the night, the squeaking handle sounded like clanging pans. John could do nothing but continue. He’d come too far to stop now. Besides, he’d rather face a shotgun than miss the chance to see Elizabeth. The door wasn’t locked, so John made his way into the house and—without making a sound—he shut the door behind him.
Now to find Elizabeth.
His heart pounded so loud he was sure it would wake up everyone. Be calm. You can do this, he told himself. One step at a time. He waited a few minutes while his eyes adjusted to the dark. All the girls in the house were pregnant. Asleep in their beds they were bound to look much the same.
Which was why it was a crazy stroke of luck when John peered into the first room and saw her. The space was small, with only one bed. But he knew the sleeping figure under the sheets was her for one reason. His photo was in a frame on the dresser.
She was here! His Elizabeth was right here in front of him. John couldn’t draw a breath until he closed her bedroom door behind him. Then he waited. One minute, two. Until he was sure no one had woken up. When he was convinced, he moved to the side of her bed.
Beneath the sheets, lying on her side, Elizabeth didn’t look pregnant. Her face was soft and young, like that of a girl still in high school. John stared at her for a moment. She was so beautiful. He would never love anyone the way he loved her. He bent close and put his hand on her thin shoulder. Her flannel nightgown and long dark hair made her look like a porcelain doll.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered as quietly as he could. “Elizabeth . . . it’s me, John.”
It took a minute, but gradually her eyes opened. They fluttered a few times and then they grew suddenly wide. She started to cry out, but he gently put his hand over her mouth. “Shhhh.” He brought his face close to hers. “I snuck in. No one knows I’m here.”
She was still waking up, still trying to make sense of his presence. “How . . . how did you know where to . . .” Her voice was a whisper now. She was awake enough to understand what was happening. “John . . .” Her eyes filled with tears and she squeezed them shut. She shook her head and buried her face in the pillow.
At first John thought she was merely overwhelmed with seeing him. But after a minute, alarm coursed through him. “Elizabeth, what is it? What’s wrong?”