Bridge to Haven

by Francine Rivers

  “Yes.”

  “He loves you, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. I’ve watched you two over the years I’ve been here. Things changed for him when he came home from Korea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s in love with you. That’s what I mean. There isn’t a soul in this town that doesn’t know it, except you.”

  Abra stared at her, mouth agape. There had been moments when she wondered, hoped, but he acted with the same circumspect manner he always had. “People don’t know everything.”

  Susan seemed to be on a mission. “I see the way he looks at you when you’re not aware, and I see the way you look at him. You love him, Abra. What are you going to do about it?”

  Abra felt the heat flood her cheeks. She’d never had a conversation like this with Susan—or anyone else, for that matter—and she was unprepared to answer with anything but flat truth. “He deserves someone a lot better than me.”

  “He wants you.”

  Someone came in and took a booth. Susan put her hands on the counter and lowered her voice, her expression almost pleading. “You have a chance for real love, Abra. Grab it! Hold on tight! Not all of us are so fortunate.”

  On the walk home, Abra heard the familiar rumble of Joshua’s truck behind her. Her heart jumped, and everything Susan had said sounded like trumpets in her head. Turning, she smiled and stuck out her thumb.

  He pulled over to the curb and shoved the passenger door open. “How could I pass up such a beautiful girl?” His gaze swept over her as she slipped into the passenger seat.

  Her pulse kept climbing. The scent of healthy male sweat filled the cab.

  She breathed in Joshua as Elvis Presley’s “One Night” played on the radio he’d installed. “Life without you has been too lonely too long.” How odd to realize that she’d once met the young man who had gone on to such fame and fortune. She wondered if he had been able to find what he’d been looking for amid the glitter and glamour that had proven so empty for her.

  Joshua put the truck in gear. “I was going to come by after I got cleaned up. The model homes are finished. Want to take a look?”

  Another place had beckoned for a long time, but she hadn’t wanted to heed the call. “Can we go to Riverfront Park first?”

  His brows rose in surprise. “Sure. I’ll drop you off, get cleaned up, and pick you up in—”

  “I’d like to go now, Joshua, if you don’t mind.” If she waited, she might find more excuses not to go.

  “Okay.” He made a U-turn at Maple Avenue and headed for the bridge. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” She rolled down the window as Joshua reached the bridge. Leaning over, she stretched her neck to see the water rippling blue and clear below. It was too early for summer visitors. No trailers in the campsites, no racing children on the banks. She listened to the thump-thump of the truck wheels as Joshua drove across the bridge. He downshifted and turned into Riverfront Park on the other side.

  He parked so they faced the river. “Okay. We’re here. What now?”

  “I’m going to take a little walk by myself.” She got out and walked over the grassy mound. Her feet sank into the white sand Haven brought in each year to replenish “the beach.” She headed for the cement piers supporting the bridge.

  Abra looked up and saw the covering of the bridge. She stepped out, so she could see the railing. She had dreamed countless times of Pastor Zeke standing up there, looking down at her. He said once he’d just had a feeling he had to come to the bridge that morning. He’d always believed God had sent him.

  Why hadn’t she believed that? Yes, her mother had abandoned her, but God hadn’t. God had placed her in Zeke and Marianne Freeman’s arms, and when Marianne went home to the Lord, and Pastor Zeke had the responsibility of a congregation of needy people, God had seen her safely to another family, with a second father and mother, and added another blessing of a feisty sister. When she ran away, God reached out through Murray and Mary Ellen. When she lost all faith and hope, He brought her to Agua Dulce and Joshua.

  Abra stared up at the bridge—a canopy of protection, a road to cross, a way home—and felt overwhelmed at the love she’d been offered. You have a chance, Abra. Grab it. Hold on tight. Why did she see so clearly now what had been hidden from her for so long?

  I have held you in the palm of My hand, and I will never let you go.

  Abra felt alive and free as she fully accepted what her heart had always longed to believe and couldn’t quite grasp.

  She gave a soft, broken laugh of joy. “You love me, Lord. In spite of my stubborn and rebellious heart.”

  I knew you before you were born. I’ve counted the hairs on your head. I have written your name on the palms of My hands.

  As she looked up through the trusses of the bridge and back over her life, she saw the truth. Humbled, she whispered lines from one of Mitzi’s favorite hymns. “‘O the deep, deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free! Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me.’”

  Turning, she saw Joshua standing not far away, thumbs hooked in his pockets, relaxed, watching her, waiting. Her heart turned over and filled up with love. She called out to him. “Would you baptize me, Joshua?”

  His face registered surprise. “Sure. We can talk it over with Dad.”

  “I don’t want to wait. I want you to baptize me now.”

  “Here?”

  What better place? What better time? “Yes!” Abra waded into the river until she stood waist-deep, the current gently pulling at her skirt.

  Joshua met her there, his calloused hands cupping hers as she covered her nose and mouth. He lowered her back. “Buried with Christ . . .”

  She held her breath as she went under the cool, clean water. Opening her eyes, she saw the shimmer of the cleansing stream moving over and around her, Joshua above.

  His arm tightened beneath her shoulders as he lifted her. “. . . raised to the newness of life.” He supported her until she had her feet firmly planted.

  Wiping water from her face, Abra laughed. “Oh, Joshua, I’ve been a blind beggar all my life.” She lifted her head. “And now I see!”

  “Abra.” Her name came in soft exaltation, his eyes shining as he cupped her face. “Abra.” He kissed her, not as a brother or a friend, but as a man in love.

  “You have a chance for real love, Abra. Grab it! Hold on tight!”

  She slid her arms around Joshua’s waist and lifted her head. When his arms came around her, she molded herself against him. When he kissed her this time, she kissed him back.

  Pulling away, Joshua set her back a few inches. “No more.” He was breathing hard, his eyes dark. “Until after you marry me.” He winced in apology. “Sorry. That was the lousiest proposal in history.”

  “It was good enough. Yes!” She was laughing and crying at the same time. “When?”

  Laughing with her, Joshua swung her up in his arms. “We’ll ask Dad to open his calendar.” He carried her from the river.

  On the day of the wedding, Zeke stopped by to see Abra on his way to the church.

  “I’ll get her.” Priscilla headed up the stairs. “Penny! Paige is hungry and I can’t feed her. Abra, honey, Pastor Zeke is downstairs. He wants to talk to you.”

  Peter rolled his eyes and led Zeke into the living room. “Thank goodness we only have two daughters. I don’t think Priss would survive another wedding.”

  “Pastor Zeke!” Abra appeared in a fuzzy pink bathrobe and slippers, her hair in curlers. “I’m sorry I’m not dressed yet.”

  Zeke gave her a hug. “Don’t worry,” he whispered against her ear. “You look beautiful.” As he drew back, he took a small box from his jacket pocket. “Something old to go with something borrowed and something blue.”

  Abra opened the box and caught her breath. “You found it.”

  She looked up at him, and the pain and guilt in her expression filled h
im with an overwhelming tenderness. “A few days after you left.”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks as she touched Marianne’s gold cross. “I don’t deserve to have this.”

  “Marianne wanted you to have it. She wore it on our wedding day.”

  Abra stepped forward and rested her forehead against his chest. “Thank you.”

  Abra’s heart jumped like a frightened rabbit when Joshua pulled off the road and parked in front of a small house with a partial second story in the shape of a lighthouse. Cypresses hedged the two sides and back. A small hamlet was a quarter mile down the road with a few lights on in the windows. Surf pounded just across the road and she smelled salt-sea air. Joshua got out of the truck and came around to open her door. He took a flashlight from the glove compartment before he helped her out. The misting night raised goose bumps. Wind tossed her hair. She shivered.

  Their wedding had been everything she could have dreamed. It seemed like the whole town turned out for it—even Mitzi, dressed in red with a colorful scarf wrapped around her hair. She was showing her age and failing health, but she still knew how to put on the ritz. She had whispered to Abra after the ceremony, “I promised myself I wouldn’t give up the ghost until I saw this wedding through.”

  Priscilla and Rob, with baby Paige in his arms, sat in the front row, along with Susan. Pastor Zeke must have placed her there. Dave Upton and Penny stood up with the bride and groom, and of course Pastor Zeke had performed the ceremony. He reminded everyone that marriage had been ordained by God in the Garden of Eden between the first man and woman, confirmed by Jesus’ first miracle in Cana, and declared by divine inspiration by the apostle Paul: “When a man and woman come together in marriage, they become one in flesh and spirit. Wives, submit to your husbands’ leadership in the same way you submit to the Lord. Husbands, love your wives as Christ Jesus also loved the church and gave Himself for it. So you ought to love your wives as you love your own bodies. Again, I say to you, love your wife as a part of yourself. And wives, see to it that you respect your husband, reverencing, praising, and honoring him.”

  Joshua hadn’t told her where he was taking her for their honeymoon. He’d simply told her to pack jeans and sneakers. He hadn’t let her see the inside of the house he’d built either. He wanted to surprise her. She wasn’t sure she could handle much more excitement.

  Joshua took her hand and led the way, unlocking the front door and flicking on the light just inside. The living room looked cozy and comfortable with its simple furnishings. Before she could take a step inside, Joshua swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold. He kissed her before he set her down. “Home sweet home, for the next seven days.” She tensed when his hands slid down her back and rested on her hips. A slight frown flickered before he stepped away. “Bedroom and bathroom through that door, light switch on the right. I’ll get the fire going and then bring in your suitcase.” Everything had been prepared. All he had to do was strike a match.

  Her stomach tightened with tension.

  An open door revealed steps, but she went through the small bedroom to use the bathroom first, wondering why the double bed had been stripped of all but the bottom sheet. The bathroom had plenty of freshly laundered towels, a claw-foot tub with a shower, and a pedestal sink. The mirrored medicine cabinet held a toothbrush, toothpaste, men’s deodorant, shaving cream, and a razor. When she came into the bedroom again, she noticed a couple pairs of Levi’s and cotton shirts hanging in the closet. Abra checked the bureau and a trunk under the window. The front door opened and closed. “We don’t have any blankets, Joshua.” And it was cold and she was growing colder.

  Joshua came into the bedroom and put her suitcase on the trunk. “We’re not going to sleep in here.” It was the way he said it that made her pulse quicken. He stepped back. “Someone put a basket in the truck. Let’s see what’s inside.” He went into the living room, where the fire crackled and a single lamp cast a golden glow.

  “That’s Priscilla’s picnic basket.”

  Joshua set it on the rug in front of the fireplace. She knelt and opened it. Chicken salad sandwiches, grapes, Brie, crackers, a bottle of champagne, two crystal glasses, and a couple of candles with holders.

  “Nice. Everything we need for a romantic supper.”

  The room was already growing comfortably warm. Abra kicked off her shoes and sat, feeling overdressed in her green suit. She stretched out her legs. Neither had eaten more than a couple of canapés and the bites of wedding cake they fed to one another.

  The last three months were a blur of wedding preparations, showers, visiting Mitzi, working with Ian Brubaker, and spending half a day five days a week at Dorothea’s. Abra had seen less of Joshua after they set the date than before.

  Yesterday, Penny had brought baby Paige and a bassinet over and announced she was spending the night. Penny fussed over her baby while she talked about her wedding and honeymoon. Abra had felt an aching sadness and regret as she watched her sister cover herself modestly and nurse Paige.

  “Rob knew more than I did, not that he was vastly experienced, mind you. He and his father had the talk the night before the bachelor party.” She laughed. “Rob said he’d never seen his father blush and told him he already knew about the birds and the bees.” She laid sweet Paige on her lap, sound asleep, tiny bow mouth still moving, and readjusted her clothing. “Mom gave me the talk, too.” As she lifted Paige to her shoulder, she looked at Abra and stopped laughing. “What’s wrong?”

  Abra shrugged. “At least Mom will be spared that embarrassment. I know more than enough about the facts of life.” She looked away, tears running down her cheeks. “I threw it all away, Penny. I can’t give Joshua the gift you gave Rob. I’m not a virgin. I’m not innocent.”

  Penny’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Joshua doesn’t hold your past against you. It’s all part of who you’ve become now.” She held out Paige, unwittingly causing more pain. “Here, Auntie Abra, hold your niece.” She touched Abra’s knee. “It won’t be like it was with Dylan or a man old enough to be your father. Joshua is . . . well, Joshua.”

  Abra held the baby close, looking into her sweet face, another sorrow. She didn’t even know if she could have another child after what she’d done. Why would God allow it? Joshua knew everything, but she should have raised that question, given him a chance to consider the other gift he might never have.

  Joshua brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek, startling her out of her reverie. “It’s just you and me now, Abra.”

  She knew what he meant. Don’t let Dylan or Franklin into the house. Don’t invite them on the honeymoon. She didn’t want them here any more than he did. Joshua’s eyes were so tender, she was afraid she’d let him down. She was afraid when it came to the final moment, she’d go cold.

  Yes, she felt stirred by him as she never had before, but could she surrender, and what might that mean? She already felt the tension growing inside her body, the niggling fear she wouldn’t be enough. She felt the instinctive desire to protect herself.

  Stop worrying. Stop, stop, stop. She wanted to remember one kiss in the river, not the thousand kisses that had brought disillusionment.

  Joshua wasn’t like Dylan or Franklin. He hadn’t even touched her during the past three months. When she’d asked why, he’d told her it was because he wanted her too much, and he wanted all things to happen properly and in God’s time. He’d joked about the number of cold showers he was taking. His commitment to purity before marriage made her grieve that she had no purity to offer him. She’d tempted two men, and brought out the worst in both. She didn’t want to tempt Joshua.

  The fire crackled. The surf pounded.

  “Do you want to talk about what you’re thinking?” Joshua watched the shifting expressions on Abra’s face and wanted to draw her back to the present and to him. She’d been pensive in the weeks before the wedding, but this was something else. Honeymoon jitters? He had butterflies in his stomach, too. He wished that was
all it was, but he knew her too well. He brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “This is a night for love, Abra, not regrets.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and rocked her gently against him, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t try so hard. It’s going to be good between us.”

  Dad had years of counseling experience behind him, and they had talked about what Abra might feel after what she’d been through. She’d been abused and used, never loved. It was understandable she’d shut down, retreat inside herself. Dad talked about what a honeymoon was meant to be. Tonight wouldn’t be just about their sexual union; it would be about finding ways for Joshua to show his bride how much he cherished her, that she could trust him completely, that he intended to restore her and lift her up and love her.

  It would be a night of patience as well as passion—if he could hold his desire in check long enough. He’d laughed a little when admitting that to Dad, and Dad told him to bring God into the midst of everything, to ask for self-control. Joshua had fasted and prayed that his physical needs wouldn’t win out over his desire to give Abra whatever time she needed. Now he breathed in the unique scent of her, and his head swam.

  Oh, Lord, I’m walking in a minefield. Help me reach my wounded bride. Help me bring a healing touch.

  He took his arm from her, remembering she’d barely eaten at the wedding reception. “God bless Priscilla for thinking of this.” Joshua smeared Brie on a cracker and held it out to her. “I planned our meals through the end of the week, but I didn’t think about tonight. We didn’t get much of a chance to eat, did we?” He smiled into her eyes. She broke his heart. He didn’t like seeing that look in her eyes, nor thinking about who and what had put it there.

  She nibbled at the cracker and set it on the side table. Joshua took the cue and set the basket aside. They’d eat later. “We’ve known each other all our lives, Abra. But this is new territory, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Her voice caught softly and he felt her increasing tension.