Bridge to Haven

by Francine Rivers

  “Take the leap.” He gave a soft laugh. “Any other girl would be diving at the opportunity I’m offering. But you’re not like other girls, are you? I knew that the first time I saw you. I’ve been watching you for a while.”

  She remembered him standing by the pool. “Did Dylan know?”

  “Most likely.” His smile held no humor. “What do you want, Abra?”

  “I want to be . . .” A little catch in her throat kept her from saying the rest.

  “Rich and famous?”

  “Somebody.”

  She wouldn’t be invisible anymore. She wouldn’t be the disposable child. She wouldn’t be Dylan’s cast-off girlfriend. Dylan would regret throwing her away. Penny and her gang of friends would envy her. She’d be somebody.

  “I’ll make you that and more.” He rose with an air of satisfaction, everything decided. “Come on back to my office.” He walked with purpose. He opened a file cabinet, fingered through files, and pulled out two documents. Dropping them on the black leather desk blotter, he plucked a silver-and-black fountain pen from the top drawer and put it on top of the papers. He pulled the chair back. “Sit. Read. Take all the time you need. Ask anything you want.”

  “I don’t even know what to ask.”

  He looked inexplicably sad. “Where on earth did you come from, little girl?”

  “I was born under a bridge and left to die.” She hadn’t meant to say that.

  He tilted his head, studying her. “Nice story.”

  “True.”

  “Obviously, someone found you.”

  “Then gave me away.” And now, Dylan had given her away as well. What would this man do with her? “No one has ever wanted me around for long.”

  He frowned slightly, searching her face, then dismissing the notion. “If you sign that contract, you’re putting yourself in my hands for a long time. And I’ll make you into someone the whole world wants.”

  Could he really do that? She studied him for a moment and saw he believed it. She wanted to believe it, too. Abra picked up the pen, flipped through the pages, and signed the blank line.

  “Impetuous youth.” Mr. Moss’s tone was enigmatic. He took the pen from her fingers. When he leaned over her, she felt the heat radiating from his body, the warmth of his breath in her hair. He signed the line below hers with a flourish. He flipped through the second copy and pointed. She signed again. He signed and put the pen back into the drawer, opened the iron safe, and tucked one copy inside. He nodded toward her copy, still on the desk. “You should keep that safe.”

  “Where do you suggest? In my underwear?”

  He laughed and held out his hand. “Give it to me.” He tossed it into the safe with his copy, closed the door, and spun the dial. He opened a box of file cards, pulled one up, jotted a telephone number on a tablet, picked up the telephone, and dialed. Smiling confidently, he winked at her. “Dylan! My young friend. I called to thank you. Who? Franklin Moss here. Who else? . . . Two in the morning? I had no idea you’d be in bed so early. . . . No, I’m not drunk. Quite the contrary. I’m feeling better than I’ve felt in a long, long time.” He listened again, then laughed. “In answer to that question, yes, she surprised me. I just signed her.” He leaned his hip against the desk, grinning at her. “You still there, Dylan? . . . Yes. That’s exactly what I said.” He tore the telephone number off the notepad, wadded it, and pitched it into the trash can. “I always know what I’m doing. . . . No. Don’t bother sending anything over. She’s starting fresh.” He dropped the telephone receiver into the cradle. “Finis. That, my girl, was the end of a dark era. A new dawn has come.”

  If she’d had any thoughts of turning back, it was too late now. “What did Dylan say?”

  “He wanted to know how well you played.”

  “He didn’t mean the piano.”

  “True.” Mr. Moss’s eyes took on a hard gleam. “But he doesn’t know that’s all you did.”

  He gave Abra another drink, then said it was time for her to go to bed. He tapped on her door a few minutes later, and her heart jumped in alarm. “My wife left a few things behind.” He handed her a pile of clothing. “They’ll do for now. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.” He looked faintly amused. “Lock the door if it makes you feel safer.”

  Abra barely slept. She kept looking at the clock on the side table. She waffled between despair over Dylan and hope that the dreams Franklin Moss had planted in her head could actually come true. If she worked hard enough, could she find retribution?

  “I’m done!” Gil called, coming up from the other side of the American bungalow roof. “How about you?”

  “Two more to go.” Joshua nailed down the last shingles and stood, slipping the hammer into his tool belt. He took off his knee pads and tossed them down.

  “Looks great from down here!” Harold Carmichael called from the sidewalk, where he sat watching from his wheelchair. “You two boys have done a grand job! Donna and I are mighty grateful.”

  His elderly wife stood behind him, holding the chair by the handles. “There’s lemonade and cookies in the kitchen when you two gentlemen are ready.”

  Gil started down the ladder. “You’ve got one taker, Mrs. Carmichael.” Joshua followed. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he unsnapped the locks on the extension ladder, folded the sections, and carried it over to his truck. Harold and Donna’s American bungalow was weatherproof now. No chance of another leak when winter rains came.

  Mr. Carmichael looked troubled. “We should pay you something, Joshua.”

  Joshua grasped his hand gently, careful not to hurt the man’s crippled, arthritic fingers. “It’s our way of thanking you both for all your years of faithfulness to the church family.”

  “Did I ever thank you for the ramp?”

  Joshua laughed. “Yes, sir, you did.” About a hundred times.

  “I love my home, but it was beginning to feel like a jail cell.”

  Mrs. Carmichael started to push the wheelchair. “What do you say we go on inside so Joshua and Gil can have some refreshments?”

  Joshua brushed her hands away. “Allow me.” She gave him a grateful look and went ahead as he wheeled Mr. Carmichael up the ramp. She held the screen door open. Gil followed behind.

  Mr. Carmichael had other things on his mind. “I’m going to have to order some firewood.”

  “Tell me how much you want,” Gil volunteered quickly. “I can bring it next week. I wouldn’t mind getting rid of a cord. It’s going to rot otherwise. There’s always a tree falling somewhere in the woods, and I like to keep as much cleared as I can to cut the fire hazard. You’d be doing me a favor taking it.”

  “I still want to pay you something.”

  “Okay. I want two dozen snickerdoodles and a couple of jars of those pomegranate and quince jellies your wife makes.”

  Donna Carmichael beamed. “I can give you the jars of jelly today, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for your snickerdoodles. I made two dozen, but Harold got to them first.” She patted her husband’s shoulders. “He has a sweet tooth.”

  Gil laughed. “So do I.” He finished a cookie and downed the glass of lemonade. “Sorry, folks, but I’ve got to run. I’ll bring a pickup full of wood on Wednesday. How’s that?”

  “Anytime, Gil, and thanks again.” Mr. Carmichael turned his wheelchair around and escorted him to the front door.

  Donna took Joshua’s glass and refilled it without asking. She had something to say. He expected it to be about her husband’s health. “I’ve had Abra on my mind for days. Have you heard anything from her?”

  It had been almost two years, but the mention of her name still roused emotion in him. “Not a word.” No one had received so much as a note from Abra in all that time. Had she forgotten everyone who ever loved her? Had she forgotten him?

  Joshua drained the glass of lemonade, rinsed it, and set it on the counter. “Abra will come home when she’s ready. Just keep praying.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks for the lemonade
and cookies.”

  Mr. Carmichael was headed for the kitchen doorway. “Are you going, too?” He didn’t try to cover his disappointment.

  “Harold.” His wife spoke gently. “The poor boy has been working on the roof all morning. It’s Saturday. He probably has a date.”

  Joshua had only been out a couple of times since he and Lacey Glover had decided to stop seeing each other. Maybe he should start looking around. He wasn’t getting any younger. “I’ll see you two in church tomorrow.”

  On his way back through town, he spotted an old friend walking along the sidewalk and pulled over. Leaning across the front seat, he rolled down the passenger window. “Sally Pruitt! When did you get home?” She had slimmed down and cut her brown hair in a short bob that looked good on her.

  Sally smiled in happy surprise. “Funny coincidence. I was just hoping to run into you, Joshua.” She came over to rest her forearms on the truck door. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  “You’re looking pretty good yourself. Do you want a ride?”

  “I’d love one.” She opened the door and slid in. “You know what I’d like even more? A strawberry shake at Bessie’s. I’ve spent the last two hours walking around town, and I think I need something to cool me off.”

  “From the heat or trouble?”

  “Children can’t come home without parents wanting to become parents again, and I’m a big girl now. I left home the week after high school graduation, in case you don’t remember.”

  He didn’t, but he knew better than to admit it. He put the truck in gear. “Are you up for the weekend or longer?”

  Her open expression of pleasure closed. “I’m here to . . .” She shrugged. “Think.”

  “Should I ask what you’re thinking about?”

  “What I want out of life.”

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  Sally looked at him. “I’ve always had one idea, but it just never worked out the way I dreamed.”

  Joshua parked around the corner from Bessie’s. Sally got out before he had a chance to open her door. They walked side by side. When Sally reached for the door, Joshua beat her to it. “Allow me to be a gentleman.”

  She laughed as she walked in ahead of him, talking to him over her shoulder. “I’ve been living in a city where most men let the door slam in your face or hit you from behind.”

  “It wasn’t always that way.”

  “Times change, Joshua. I’ve changed with them.”

  “Not too much, I hope.”

  Susan and Bessie called out greetings. Bessie hugged Sally and said how good it was to see her. Had she brought her homework along? They both laughed. Susan told Joshua to say hello to his father for her. Bessie seated them in the back corner by the windows looking out onto the side street where he’d parked. She handed Sally a menu and smirked at Joshua before handing him one. He shook his head. What was it about women? Bessie always wanted to pair him up with someone.

  Sally set her menu aside, folded her arms on the table, and studied him. “You look different, Joshua.”

  He put his menu on top of hers. “I’m older.”

  “Older, wiser, a little battered and bruised.”

  “I was a medic in Korea.”

  “It’s more than the war, Joshua.”

  Joshua knew where she was headed. She had heard about Abra, and like so many others, she was fishing for information.

  Bessie came over. “What can I get you two?”

  Sally ordered a strawberry shake; Joshua asked for his usual, black coffee. Sally watched Bessie walk away and then faced Joshua again. “Bessie says your dad comes here a lot. Any particular reason?” Clearly, her head had already been filled with an idea.

  “Dad prefers Oliver’s cooking to his own.”

  Sally raised her brows. “You’re saying it has nothing to do with Susan Wells?”

  “I’m saying you can’t stop people from speculating.” Joshua knew Susan never did anything that might raise any question about her behavior or Dad’s. Maybe that was why Dad liked her enough to seek her out so often. Sometimes Joshua wondered where their deepening friendship might lead. Mom’s picture still sat on his bedside table, and their wedding portrait hung above the mantel.

  “How about you, Joshua? Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Yes.” He laughed. “I’m seeing you.”

  “You know what I mean. I heard you and Lacey Glover dated for a while.”

  “I’m not going out with anyone at the moment.” Serious, he met her gaze. “Lacey and I are still friends.”

  “All right.” She sighed and gave a slight shrug. “We’ll play it your way.”

  Some things needed to be clear from the start. “I don’t play, Sally, especially when it has to do with someone’s feelings. I never did. I never will.”

  She blushed. “I always liked you, Joshua.” Her smile was tinged with sadness. “I never had to wonder where I stood with you.”

  Bessie delivered their order. She nodded to Sally. “Let me know if that shake is okay.” She filled Joshua’s mug with steaming fresh black coffee. Sally dutifully dipped a long-handled teaspoon into the frosty steel beaker. She rolled her eyes dramatically and said it was heavenly, absolutely heavenly. Bessie arched a brow. “How are you and your mom doing?”

  Sally shrugged. “We’re adjusting to one another. We still butt heads, and hers is still harder than mine. I might be coming in here on a regular basis again.”

  “You come on in here anytime, honey. You’re always welcome.” She went to check on other patrons.

  Sally asked if Joshua ever saw Paul Davenport, Dave Upton, or Henry Grimm. Paul Davenport worked on his father’s apple ranch and didn’t come into town much. Dave Upton had gone to USC on a football scholarship. Shortly after graduation, he married one of the Trojan cheerleaders. Joshua had heard her father was a studio executive. Paul told him Dave and his wife settled in Santa Monica. Henry and Bee Bee Grimm had a rough start, but were very happily married now and expecting their third child. He didn’t mention that their first child had arrived only six months after the wedding. Brady Studebaker had taken over his father’s sign business on Main Street. Sally had kept in touch with Janet Fulsom. She was married now and settled down in the Central Valley and had two children. Her husband ran a gas station on Highway 99 in Bakersfield.

  Sally stirred her shake with the straw. “I came close to getting married once. Did you know I was engaged two years ago?”

  “Lacey mentioned it. Wasn’t his name Darren?”

  “Darren Michael Engersol. We broke up two months before the wedding.” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and sipped her shake. “He decided he wasn’t ready to commit to a lifetime with anyone, then married someone else four months later.”

  “Ouch.” Joshua winced. “That must have hurt.”

  “Not as much as one might think.” She looked serious. “Better to know sooner rather than later. And to tell the truth, Joshua, I was having second thoughts myself. Darren was a nice guy—a really nice guy—but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I kept thinking about Mom and Dad and all that yelling. I didn’t think they loved each other at all. Bicker, bicker, bicker—that’s all they ever did. Then Dad died and I came home and saw how things were. Mom has come completely undone without him. I’ve never seen anyone grieve like her.” Her eyes grew moist. “Surprise, surprise. She did love him after all.” She let out a quick breath and shook her head, as though shaking off the emotions rising up inside her. “It’s been a revelation, I can tell you.”

  She poked the straw up and down in the shake. “Darren and I never fought. I can’t remember either of us ever raising our voices to one another.” She gave a short laugh. “No fire. Not even a spark. All in all, we had a pretty boring relationship.”

  “So you’re looking for a sparring partner?”

  “No! Well, maybe. Oh, I don’t know.” She gave him a self-deprecating grin. “That’s the sad part of it
all. I have no idea what kind of guy I’m looking for.”

  “Maybe you should stop looking and let God bring him to you.”

  She met his gaze steadily. “You do know I had a gigantic crush on you from kindergarten through senior year of high school.”

  Heat flooded Joshua’s face. “Is that so?”

  Her face lit up. “I didn’t know a man could blush.”

  “Thanks. That’s real helpful.”

  She laughed. “You knew. Your buddies teased me unmercifully until you told them to stop.”

  “I was flattered, Sally.”

  “You were flattered.” She gave him a droll look. “So flattered you never even asked me out. Not even once, Joshua. I was so hurt.” She made it sound like she was teasing, but he wondered. She tilted her head and smiled slightly. “You didn’t want to lead me on. Right?”

  “I wasn’t interested in girls back then.”

  She laughed. “Oh, yes, you were, but only Abra.”

  Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse. “She was just a kid.”

  “Yes. Well, I heard you had a huge fight with her when you came out of the Swan Theater one night, and it wasn’t long after that she disappeared with some bad boy from Southern California.” Sally was watching his face, searching for answers. She looked impatient. “Were you in love with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you still?”

  “I don’t know. She’s been gone a long time.”

  “That’s not an answer, Joshua.”

  He knew this wasn’t a casual conversation. They weren’t schoolkids anymore. Most of their friends were married and had started families. She wanted to put things on the table. So be it. “I’m not waiting anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She finished her milk shake and set the beaker on the edge of the table.

  Bessie came over. “How was it?”

  Sally grinned. “The best ever, Bessie!”

  “You say that every time.” Bessie looked between the two of them. “It’s good to see you two sitting here nice and cozy together, having a good chat.”

  “Forget it, Bessie.” Sally put on a mournful face. “I threw myself at Joshua and he dodged.”