The Atonement Child (27 page)

“Some things can’t be buried, no matter how hard or how long you try.” She looked at Doug. “Frank spoke of it before he died. He never got over it any more than I did.” She broke off, fighting the tears that threatened to overcome her.

Hannah couldn’t utter a word, her throat hot and tight.

It was a moment before Evie could continue to speak. “You prayed for Dynah to be born, and God gave her to you. You have both raised her up before the Lord. You know her tender heart as well as I. Do you honestly think she could have an abortion and not suffer for it for the rest of her life?

Doug clenched his hands. “She’s strong.”

“She’ll be broken.”

“She’s already been broken! She’ll be broken even more if she goes on with this. She doesn’t even know what the man looked like, for God’s sake.”

“And you think to undo one act of violence upon her with another?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, again clearly striving to control his temper. “It won’t be that way. We’ll make sure. It’ll be legal and safe.”

Hannah flinched inwardly, feeling the darts.

Evie felt the anger coming up inside her and smothered the flame with cold reason. “My abortion was
legal
. It was
safe
. It was performed in a hospital by a medical doctor with several nurses in attendance. And I will tell you this, Douglas. It was an act of violation and violence upon me such as I will
never
forget. And I’m a lot harder and stronger than Dynah.”

“You think giving birth to a rapist’s child isn’t going to cause worse trauma?”

“Childbirth is natural.”

“Natural! The child she’s carrying is anything
but
natural.”

“So your answer is to sacrifice the child for what the father did?”

Doug’s blazing eyes met hers. “I don’t give a rat’s scat about the child! And I’m not getting into a philosophical or theological discussion with you. It’s decided. She’s going to have an abortion, and that’s the way it’s going to be. We’re not going to let our daughter ruin her life by having some crack baby. And that’s all there is to it!”

Evie looked at her daughter, appealing for an ally.

“Doug . . . ,” Hannah said.

He glared at her, and Evie saw he felt betrayed. “I said
no
. You took her to the clinic today. Why didn’t you get it done then instead of dragging this thing out longer?”

“Because she couldn’t decide if that’s what she wanted or not!”

“You should have helped her! You should have made it easy for her! You’ve been through it.”

“And she’s still not over it,” Evie said, furious that after all these years he dared throw that in Hannah’s face again. “Don’t you
get
it yet? What does it take to make you understand?” Would he never be man enough to forgive her? Hannah had been a good wife, faithful and loving. How long did she have to do penance for a sin committed before she knew Douglas Carey existed?

Doug turned his growing fury toward her. “Stay out of this! It’s none of your business!”

“I’m
making
it my business! Dynah’s my granddaughter, and I’ve a mind to go upstairs right now, pack her things, and get her out of this house!”

He half rose from his chair. “You can pack. And you
can
get out. But you’re not taking my daughter.”

“Stop it!” Pale and rigid, Hannah made fists against her temples. “Just
stop it
. Both of you!” Hunching forward, she wept.

Dynah sat on the stairs, her head pressed against her knees, listening to the people she loved most in the world tearing one another apart.

Over her.

She hadn’t known about her mother. Now that she did, she felt doubly forsaken. How could her mother take her hand and encourage her to have an abortion when she had suffered so?

They were quieter now, having already ripped open their most vulnerable spots. Dynah could hear their voices, still tense and angry, though more restrained. Probably worried they would awaken her.

Oh, God, I never wanted this to happen!

She could hear her father dictating what she should do, her grandmother arguing with him, her mother, usually the peacemaker, lashing out at both of them in her own pain.

Dynah raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn’t stay here. If she did, she would come between all of them. Anything she did would hurt someone. If she aborted the child, her grandmother would be hurt. If she didn’t, her father would cast her out. In either case, her mother would suffer, caught between the two, confused and full of anguish.

God, what do I do? Do I buy another bottle of pills? Do I jump off the Golden Gate Bridge?

She thought of Joe.
“I wouldn’t get over it. Not ever.”
She could see his face, intent, sincere.

Her parents wouldn’t get over it either. Or her grandmother. No matter how miserable she was, she couldn’t take the easy way out. She loved them too much.

So, what else is there, Lord? What do I do?

A whisper came, a Scripture she’d learned long ago drifting into her mind:
“‘Come out from them and be separate,’ says the Lord.”

As the angry voices droned below her, she knew she had to leave, even if she didn’t know where to go and how to get by.
Come out from them and be separate.

She had to get out of here.

True to his word, Joe Guilierno was on the doorstep early in the afternoon of June 15. It was Saturday.

His heart thumped crazily as he rang the doorbell. He heard someone approaching and took a deep breath, hoping it would be Dynah. It wasn’t. When the door opened, he faced Dynah’s mother. It was easy to tell, they looked so much alike.

“Hello, Mrs. Carey, I’m Joe. Joe Guilierno. A friend of Dynah’s. She’s expecting me.”

Hannah was surprised by his appearance. She remembered Dynah speaking of him.
“He’s nothing like Ethan, Mom. He’s just a nice guy.”

Hannah had to agree Joe Guilierno wasn’t anything like Ethan. He was taller, broader, darker, rougher. He didn’t wear slacks, a button-down shirt, coordinated tie and sports jacket, or have a neat haircut. He was wearing faded Levi’s, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. His hair was curling over his collar. She wondered vaguely how he’d gotten away with that at NLC. He smiled slightly, as though he knew what she was thinking, and she blushed. “I’m sorry.” So this was the young man who sent a letter a week. The envelopes were stacked on Dynah’s bedside table, unopened. “Won’t you come in, Joe?”

“How is she?” he said, stepping into the foyer and glancing up the stairs, hoping to see Dynah.

“She’s not here.”

“Oh,” he said, not bothering to cover his disappointment. “Do you expect her back soon?” Maybe she was avoiding him. Ideas of why she might want to do that flooded his mind. Had she had an abortion?

“I don’t know.”

He looked at her, frowning slightly, waiting.

“She left three weeks ago, Joe. In the middle of the night. We don’t know where she is.” She glanced away from his intense scrutiny. “Why don’t you come into the family room? Doug is here. I’m sure he will want to meet you, too.”

Joe followed Dynah’s mother into the family room and saw a man he recognized as Dynah’s father sitting in an easy chair, staring at the television set. A baseball game was blaring. Someone had just hit a grand slam, but the man registered no interest.

“Doug? This is Joe, Joe Guilierno. A friend of Dynah’s.”

Doug looked up at the young man, as surprised by his appearance as Hannah had been. He reminded Doug of the guy on the TV show about immortals and swordplay. Tough. Ready for anything. He rose and extended his hand. Joe Guilierno’s handshake was hard and firm, his eyes direct. Doug nodded once. “Nice to meet you, Joe. Have a seat.”

“I’ll get some coffee,” Hannah said and headed for the kitchen.

Doug sank into his easy chair again, at a loss for words. He glanced at the television set.

“I take it you’re not an A’s fan,” Joe said with a half smile, the TV announcer talking over the replay of the grand slam.

“I have season tickets,” Doug said flatly. He picked up the remote control and punched a button. The room fell into silence.

Doug looked at the young man sitting on his couch and studied him again. Joe Guilierno had an air of confidence about him. He didn’t sit uneasy but was relaxed, open, clearly concerned. “Dynah mentioned you,” Doug said. He couldn’t remember the context.

“I roomed with Ethan.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re the ex–gang member from Los Angeles, aren’t you?”

Joe laughed, an easy sound at once admitting guilt and showing redemption. “Yes, sir.”

“What brings you to San Francisco?”

“Dynah,” Joe said frankly. Mr. and Mrs. Carey might as well know where he was coming from. “I graduated on the ninth and headed for California the next morning. I’m going to be taking some postgraduate courses at Berkeley.”

“Berkeley,” Doug said, impressed. “It’s a little different from NLC.”

“Like walking out of a hothouse and falling into the compost pile.”

Doug smiled. He liked this young man. There was something about him that eased his mind. And heart. “I have a feeling you’ll stay on the right track.”

“With God’s help. Now, about Dynah. Mrs. Carey said you don’t know where she is. Are the police doing anything about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Hannah came back into the room with a tray. Joe glanced at her and smiled. She smiled back. She didn’t know why, but she trusted him. “Dynah left us a note explaining why she felt she had to leave.” She leaned down with the tray so Joe could take a mug of coffee and sugar or cream if he wanted. He took his coffee black with a murmured thanks.

“And she’s twenty,” Doug added grimly. “That makes her an adult.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what did her letter say?”

Hannah glanced at Doug.

“Go ahead and show him.”

She set the tray down on the coffee table and took a single sheet of folded paper from her skirt pocket. She handed it to Joe. It was worn from reading.

Dear Mom and Dad and Granny,

I love you all very much, and I can’t bear to hear you fighting over me. It’s best if I leave. I need to make my decisions. When I do, the responsibility will rest on my head and no one else’s. I promise I’ll be careful wherever I go. Please try not to worry. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.

Please, please love one another. I can’t bear to think that what’s happened to me will tear you all apart. I’d rather die than have that happen.

I’ll call you when I’m settled.

Dynah

Joe folded the note slowly and handed it back to Hannah. “Has she called?”

Hannah took the note. “Once,” she said bleakly, tucking it safely into her skirt pocket again. “Doug and I were in church. She left a message. I’ll let you hear it.”

Joe rose and followed her into the kitchen. She pressed the button to start the message.

Joe heard Dynah’s voice, quiet, tense, anything but all right: “I know you’re both in church right now, and I’m sorry to call like this. I’m just not ready to hear what you have to say about what I’ve done.”

Oh, God
, Joe thought.
She did it.

He heard Dynah sigh. She sounded tired, depressed. “I just wanted to let you know . . . I’m fine. I’m going to be okay.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute. Joe heard three cars pass in the background. He figured she was on a pay phone somewhere.

“I’m sorry I left the way I did,” she said softly, her voice choked, “but it’s better this way.” She was silent again. He could feel the heaviness of her heart through the phone. “I love you. I love you very, very much.”

Click.

“That’s all,” Hannah said hoarsely. She listened to it several times a day, just to hear the sound of her daughter’s voice.

Hannah’s mother had gone home to Oregon after a week. Most of the time she had stayed she had spent upstairs in the guest room, weeping and praying for Dynah.

Each one of them felt to blame for Dynah’s flight, though none of them had changed their opinion about what she should do. Evie was still adamantly against Dynah’s having an abortion. Doug was as strong in his conviction that it was the only course to take. And Hannah was torn between the two, trusting Jim Wyatt more than husband or mother.