Rain Dance (18 page)

Neither the photo nor my thoughts made sense. I put one off as an unimportant past event and blamed the other on pre-natal hormones.

Still, the perfectionist side of me would not let it go. I looked at the photo again. I had to know.

I jotted a note in my datebook to check out birth records for the summer I was four. Then I’d look into seeing if I could find a death certificate.

Something is so wrong with this picture.

Looking again at Eve holding me as a newborn, I wished I knew this woman so full of love and life.

Chapter
16

Jonica

The day God blessed me with the truth in His Word, the burden of infertility lightened.

I didn’t say anything to Ben, Mom, or Stacie. I wanted them to see my changed heart—not hear about it. I was sure it showed on my face. I hoped everyone would notice.

“Joni?” Ben asked the next day. “Can we talk?”

“Don’t you have to go to work, or did I forget a day off?”

“I have to go in, but I called and let my assistant know I’d be a little bit late.”

“You want a cup of coffee?”

“No. Do you have time to sit here on the couch with me?”

“Sure.”

When we sat down, he reached for my hand. “I see a change in you. Your eyes shine again, your smile comes easier, and you laugh more often. What happened?”

“God touched me with His Word. The other day I was so down I wanted to quit. I let Him have it—again. I asked Him to give me an answer. I threw all my doubts and questions at Him.

“In the stillness God reminded me of scripture I’d memorized. I sensed an urgency to get into the Word so I opened up my One Year Bible and asked Him to show me something special in my scheduled reading.” I took a deep breath as tears of joy sprang into my eyes and splashed down my cheeks.

Ben smiled. “And He did.”

“Yes. He spoke to me.”

“What do you mean He spoke to you?”

I heard the skeptical tone creeping into his voice and touched his arm in reassurance. “I promise I’m not losing it. It wasn’t an audible voice. He used His Word to give me a peace passing all understanding. I am comforted and confident He has a reason for us not being able to have kids. He’s not punishing us—He is trusting us to live through this experience and bring Him honor and glory.”

“What was the scripture?”

“I think it will have more impact if you let Him show you the same thing. I’ll get my Bible so you can see what I mean.”

Running up the stairs, I prayed for God to use these verses to comfort Ben too. I hurried back down and handed him my open Bible and said, “I’m going to get us some coffee.”

In the kitchen, I got out our extra big mugs. I messed around mixing Ben’s coffee, cream, and sugar just the way he likes it. I arranged muffins on a plate, waiting for Ben to call me back. When he did, I brought him the coffee and muffins.

He reached for his cup. “I see it.”

“You do?”

“You’re right. He’s trusting us with this. I’ve often wondered why God lets good people get horrible diseases or live through accidents only to find themselves paralyzed and why He held back the blessing of children from us. I watched your grandparents suffer through cancer, and it only made them stronger in the Lord. They brought Him honor and glory as they faced the disease, went through treatment, and then lost the battle. God found them standing true to their faith. This hurts, but I want Him to find me trustworthy too.”

I took a sip of coffee before responding. “I still feel bruised inside. Infertility tests my faith. Do I really believe God is who He says He is? If I do, my faith says His will is always His best for me. I know He wants me to trust Him with everything—especially when I’m worn out in my heart and don’t understand.”

“We’re experiencing the death of a dream and grieving is hard work.”

“That’s it exactly. It seems like one great big loss. I didn’t know if I could be victorious in this battle.”

“We can’t on our own. But we know God is the victory.”

We sat holding on to each other, my hand resting on Ben’s chest. “I love the feeling of your heartbeat.”

Ben held my hand in his and took a deep, ragged breath. “Honey, it’s not always going to be easy, but I want us to honor God through this. I think we need to find the courage to talk about it to other people—to be honest even when they can’t understand. Not to strike out in anger or defense but to explain to those who really care, so they won’t hurt another couple in ignorance. We can pray and trust the Lord for opportunities to share not only the hurt, but also the Healer.”

We prayed together, then Ben left for his office and I climbed the stairs to mine. After answering some e-mail, I got to work. Part of writing is reading and studying what kids like. I picked up one of my favorite children’s books, A
Duck Named Quacker,
by Ricky Van Shelton.

Lord, help me to express Your love this way through the characters in my books.

I wrote for a few hours, stopping only when the phone rang. It was Stacie.

Stacie

When it was time for the first ultra-sound, I’d made excuses about the test not being necessary. I knew Mike was looking forward to seeing our baby, and we both wanted to know if we were having a boy or a girl, so this time I kept the appointment.

As I stepped into the ultrasound room, however, my head started to spin, my stomach did a somersault, and my legs shook. I was going to lose it.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered.

“Sure you can. It’s painless,” the technician assured me.

“We need a moment here,” Mike told her.

“I’ll take a quick break.” The technician slipped out of the room.

Mike’s eyes never left my face as he guided me to a chair. “What’s wrong?”

“They used a machine similar to this on me right before they did the abortion,” I whispered.

“We don’t have to do this. I certainly don’t want you to do it for me. We can get through the pregnancy without it.”

I shook my head. “I need to move past this.”

The technician returned. “Mrs. Cutter, do you want to reschedule the test for a day you’re feeling better?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

I rested on the table hoping I’d be able to hear the baby’s heart beat over my own. A pumping heart was just the beginning of what our little one had to show us.

The technician explained the procedure then lightly pressed the sensor on my abdomen, stopping immediately to let us gain some perspective to the world inside me.

“Whoa, Stacie—do you see it?” Mike asked.

“Yes.”

In front of me on the screen, I saw a tiny body. “Hi, Baby.”

Hot tears ran down my cheeks, cooling by the time they ran behind my ears and in my hair. The technician zoomed around, and we saw tiny fingers, toes, ears, and a profile that reflected his dad’s already.

“He’s sucking his thumb,” Mike marveled.

Just then the baby made a stretching move and turned over.

“You’re right Mr. Cutter. You are looking at your son.”

Mike reached over with a tissue and wiped my face while tears ran down his own.

“I love you, Mike. I love our son.”

“I love both of you too.”

“Can we take some of the pictures home?” I asked the technician.

“You sure can—I’ll make some copies for you right away.”

When we left I carried the envelope of pictures clutched to my chest with one hand while the other gripped Mike’s to keep me grounded. I was convinced that without his touch I might float away on a cloud of giddy joy.

We went home and spent the afternoon looking at the ultrasound copies, talking about our dreams for our son, and picking out names. We settled on one we both liked and promised to keep it a secret until he arrived.

“I feel so bad that Jonica will never know this joy or experience childbirth.”

“There’s one way she can be part of it.”

“How?”

“We could invite her to join us in the delivery room,” Mike suggested.

“I’d love that, but are you sure? Will you be okay sharing such a private family moment with someone else?

“Isn’t she just about as close to us as family?”

“To me she is.”

“Do you want her there?”

“I do. She’s my only real friend besides you, and after all the hurts she’s had I’d like to prove how much I trust her with our son from his first breath. I just don’t know how hard it might be for her.”

“You won’t know until you ask.”

“Do you mind if I call her now?”

“Go ahead. Knowing Jonica, she won’t want to intrude, so let her know we both want her there.”

My excitement soared, and I sounded a lot like her when my words bubbled over. “Hi Jonica! Guess what? We just found out he’s a boy.”

“I’m so glad for you—for us!”

“Mike and I want you in the delivery room.”

I heard a sharp inhale and a slow exhale. “Jonica?”

“I’m here. This is such a private time. Are you sure you want another person there when you see and hold your son in his first few minutes after birth?”

“We’re sure. You’re like a sister to me. You are going to be a big part of his life, and we want you to know each other from the very beginning.”

I heard her crying. “Jonica, what’s wrong?”

“You cannot imagine what a privilege this is. All of this is such a mystery to me. On my own, I’ll never enter a delivery room, see a moments-old baby take his first breath, or hear his first cries.”

“You accept?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

Chapter
17

Jonica

As I wandered along my garden path, the little “gardening angel” from Stacie caught my eye. The resin character stood about three feet tall. She held a rosebud, and her mesh wings reminded me of my grandma’s screen door. I couldn’t stop a smile from creeping over my face. I remembered the night we heard people sneaking around in our yard.

“Stay quiet,” Ben whispered.

I sat on the edge of the bench in the dark, ready to run if he gave me any encouragement.

“Where to you want to put it?” a male voice asked.

“
Shush!
They’ll hear us.”

Footsteps crunched on the pea rock pathway.

“Here! This is the perfect spot.”

I recognized the female voice at the same moment the motion-sensor yard light went on.

“Stacie?”

Her squeal covered Mike’s mumble. “Jonica! You scared the daylights out of me! What are you doing out here?”

“It’s my garden,” I managed between hysterical giggles.

The bright beam shone on them like an interrogation light in a bad movie. They squinted and squirmed.

Mike held a goofy looking statue. “That looks heavy,” I said. “Want to put it down?”

“Yeah. Is this a good spot?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Your new gardening angel,” Stacie chimed in, disgust in her voice. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“You succeeded.”

“The light gave us away.”

“No it didn’t,” I snickered. “You two make really noisy thieves. This will teach you to do your deeds in the darkness.”

“We aren’t stealing anything,” Mike pointed out. He set the angel down more gently than I expected and straightened. “We’re leaving a gift, and it’s not like we make a practice of this kind of thing.”

“I guess we’ll let you off on a technicality then.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

On the bench beside me, Ben couldn’t stop laughing. He’d catch his breath, and then start again. Stacie stood as if frozen in the light.

“Are you okay?”

She squinted at me. “Just a little spooked, I guess.”

“Honey, we need to go,” Mike growled.

Ben grinned at him. “Where’s your car? We didn’t hear anyone pull up.”

“A block away.” Mike stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at his shoes.

Little giggles continued to escape as I told my friend I needed a hug before she left.

“I can’t see you,” she said blinded by the bright beam.

“Come toward my voice.”

We met in the middle of the path.

Grateful for that sweet memory, I opened my Bible and journal.

Today is the day I go see Eve.
I’m glad for this open door into her world, but
I’m nervous. We’re poles apart politically, except for the women’s shelter.

After lingering a little while longer with the Lord, I went into the house and dressed with care in simple—and, I hoped, elegant—ivory linen slacks and a pale blue silk blouse. I transferred my tape recorder and notebook from my beat-up leather backpack to my soft leather briefcase.

I hurried to her local office glad for the opportunity to meet with her here. There’s no way the newspaper would pay for me to make the trip to D.C.

“The Senator is expecting you,” Eve’s assistant told me when I arrived. She knocked twice on the door of Eve’s office and held it open for me to enter.

Eve stood and joined me in front of her desk. We shook hands.

“Jonica. Welcome.”

“Hello, Senator. Thank you for seeing me.”

She appeared cool, dignified, and distant. Her assistant brought a tray with a carafe, china cups on saucers, sugar, and cream.

“I believe you enjoy hazelnut coffee.”

“I do. Stacie told you?”

“I asked her, yes.”

“That’s nice.”

“You didn’t expect me to be nice?”

“I don’t know what to expect. You have a reputation for being tough on your opponents.”

“Are you the enemy?”

“I sure hope not.”

Being in her presence made me feel like a little girl being grilled by a stern teacher. My professional abilities disintegrated and my insides turned to gel.

“Please sit down.”

We sat across from each other in tapestry-covered wingback chairs—not soft like Stacie’s couch. They were stiff and not broken in, comfortable for short visits only.

The small round table between us fascinated me. “I like this piece.”