The Road to Mercy (21 page)

“How did it go?” He handed her the sweater he had been holding.

“She wouldn’t say,” Beth told him. “But I hope it’s good news, so I can cut down on the narcotics.”

A week later Beth watched Alex remove a morphine patch from the package. She peeled off the protective strip and applied the patch to Beth’s upper arm.

“All set,” Alex said, before tossing the waste paper into a nearby trashcan. “I need to wash my hands. Make yourself comfortable and try to relax.”

Beth stretched out on the bed, the warmth of it drawing her in. She’d had little energy since trying to step down her morphine last week, and her headaches had worsened. While she didn’t want to renege on her promise to Josh to taper off the drugs, fear and doubt now pounded in her temple. Things had
gone well the week of his birthday and, at first, her goal had seemed attainable. But she had become less enthusiastic as her symptoms multiplied. She’d battled serious bouts of depression, dizziness, and fatigue, and she couldn’t stop sneezing.

But it was the pain that affected her the most.

Once in a while, when the pounding was relentless, or despair left her feeling out of control, she again wished that God had taken her to be with him that day in the ambulance. She had felt so free and at peace. Something she hadn’t known since that time.

She could close her eyes and almost go back to that place now. Yet, the responsibilities of this life always called her back. She must fight for her child, if not for herself. This baby represented God’s gift of a second chance in so many ways.

She had been blessed with a husband who loved her, provided for her, and shared her faith. For far too long she had lied to him. A sin of omission.

Beth had much more to tell him, when it was time. How she planned to make up for the sins in her life. How she loved him beyond comprehension. And how much she appreciated him standing by her through all of this.

But for now, especially with the fluctuation of narcotics in her system, it was impossible to express her feelings about anything related to the abortion. Thoughts tumbled in her head like children playing in a space ball: erratic and out of control.

Hopefully, one day, she would be able to talk about her experience, maybe even have a positive impact on other women—those who had chosen an abortion. Or those who could still be stopped from believing the lie . . . as she had done so long ago.

The nurse stepped into the room. “Bethany McKinney?”

Beth swallowed hard, looking around, scared once again. A calendar on the wall reminded her that Christmas wasn’t far away. Her twentieth birthday wouldn’t be far behind.
A birthday this child will never see
. Bethany squeezed her eyes shut for a second, pushing back the horrible reminder. She should have asked a friend to come with her. Encourage her. But this way, no one would know. The truth would never be revealed.

“Bethany?” This time, the nurse’s voice was more tender. “Are you OK?”

She stood and straightened to her full five feet, six inches. Her parents had raised her to be independent, to think for herself. She could do this.

So what if they wouldn’t agree with her decision? Besides, it wasn’t really a pregnancy. At seven weeks, the fetus was only a cluster of cells, an inconvenient cluster of cells at that.

That’s what the counselor had said.

She had reminded Beth that it was a woman’s right to do what was best for her. To plan her own life. To have children when it was time.

Beth wanted a career first and a family later. Everything had to come in the right order. First comes love. Then comes marriage.

Whatever. She was long past childish nursery rhymes and childlike guilt.

Besides, this was better for the baby.

Children need a good start in life. Two parents. A stable home.

Of course, she was doing the right thing.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m ready.” She sucked in her breath and followed the nurse into a sterile hallway, pulling the door closed behind her. No more indecision.

She was ready to get this done and move on.

The sound of Josh’s voice roused Beth from her lifelike dream. She sat up and looked around the room. Why was he here? Panic set in. Something must be wrong. Josh should be on the road.

Then she heard music. Followed by static.

It was the radio. Alex must have turned it on, tuning in to her favorite Christian music station.

Josh’s new song,
Listen to Me
, was playing.

Listen, O Lord, to my cries for mercy

As David prayed so long ago

Listen, O Lord, to my call for freedom

From my sin that only you can know

Listen, O Lord, to my plea for forgiveness

That only you can bestow

I worship you for all your greatness

And thank you for your promises given

You keep your word forever and ever

And send your Son to heal our nation

Then you bless, restore, and heal my soul

Beth pulled the covers closer to her shivering body.
Thank you, Lord, for your promises. And for putting this man in my life
.

“Here you go.” Alex set a steaming cup of milk in front of Beth.

“That smells delicious. Thanks.”

“I made it with rose syrup.”

Beth picked up the sturdy mug and took a sip of the aromatic liquid. “It smells like a rose garden. You didn’t . . .” She
thought back to the beautiful floribunda bushes in Alex’s backyard last summer.

Alex grinned. “No. I didn’t make the syrup from my personal stock of petals. But it’s easy to do, if you ever want to try it. It’s just organic sugar, water, and rose petals steeped together.”

“I’ll put that on my to-do list,” Beth said. “Right after finding a cure for the common cold and achieving world peace. Maybe I should figure a way off these drugs too,” she scowled. She’d had to go back to her original dose of morphine yesterday.

“You’ll get there, sweetie. Your body just wasn’t ready. No one expects you to tolerate the pain.”

“Thanks.” Beth forced a smile. Alex always reassured her, always calmed her frazzled nerves. She fiddled with the handle of the mug. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Alex settled back onto the bench opposite Beth, taking a sip of hot tea.

“I’ve been carrying a load of guilt around, and I need to share.”

“I’ll help if I can,” Alex said.

Beth studied her friend’s face and gathered her words. There was no easy way to say it. “I had an abortion when I was nineteen.”

Alex’s expression didn’t change so Beth continued.

“I was caught up in the party crowd, away from home for the first time. And I was in a meaningless relationship.” She clasped her hands and placed them on the table to keep them from shaking. “Neither he nor I wanted the responsibility of a baby.”

Tears began to flow at the realization that she had not wanted her own child.
God, how could you ever forgive me?

Alex started to say something, but Beth held up her hand. “No, please, let me continue. This is difficult.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and brushed away a tear.

Alex waited quietly.

“I can’t believe what I just said. It’s something I’ve needed to admit to myself for a long time.” She blotted more tears. “I turned on my own flesh and blood because I wanted an easier life for myself. I didn’t want to accept the consequences for my actions. Or, for that matter, the blessing of life that God had given me—”

“God forgives,” Alex said softly.

“I know. I just have to forgive myself.”

Her caregiver handed her a napkin, and Beth wiped her eyes.

“Every year I think about how old he or she would be. Sometimes, when I look out in our backyard, I can imagine this beautiful child running and . . .” Tracks of sadness trickled down Beth’s cheeks. “If only . . .”

“Bethany, you can’t think about the if onlys. You have to think about today, and today only. God has given you another child—”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Beth’s tears returned. “I’m afraid he will punish me by taking this baby away.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and embraced the child inside her womb, the child who had just recently begun to show, despite her maternity clothes.

Alex remained silent. Beth feared it was because she agreed with her assertion.

After a long silence, Alex spoke. “Our God is a God of mercy. He takes no satisfaction in punishing his children. Instead he delights in giving life to those who repent.”

Beth stared at her hands, which were clutched together on the tabletop.

“This baby is a sign of God’s blessing not his punishment.” Alex reached across the table and covered Beth’s hands with her own. “Let’s thank him.”

They bowed their heads, and Alex prayed.

Beth awoke from a sound sleep that night, the bed wet beneath her. She turned over to scan the clock. Blurry numbers read 3:06 a.m. It took her a minute to remember that Josh wasn’t home. He wouldn’t return until Tuesday morning.

She reached toward the bedside table to switch on the light. Stretching toward the lamp provoked a dull pain in her lower abdomen, almost a cramping. Something didn’t feel right. She threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed. Fear and nausea rushed through her when she saw the red stain of blood on the bedsheets.

“Alex!” she screamed and ran into the bathroom.

Within a few seconds, Alex stood by her side. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m bleeding.” Beth said, her body quaking with fear. “Look at the bedsheets.”

“Try to relax. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No. Just drive me there.” Beth grabbed her robe.

The emergency room nurse sat down next to Beth while making notes on a chart. “How far along are you?”

“Twenty-four weeks. I’m due in June.” Beth reminded herself to breathe.

“Have you ever had a miscarriage?”

“No.”

Please, God
.

“Any family history of miscarriage?”

“None.”

“Have you ever had an abortion or multiple abortions?”

Beth glanced at Alex, who sat in the chair in the corner of the exam room, and then back to the nurse. “One. In 2002.”

The nurse never looked up. “Only one?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Beth fought back tears.

“Do you know what kind of procedure you had?”

“I believe it was called an aspiration.”

“Any complications?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.” The nurse patted Beth on the arm and offered a reassuring smile. “Try to relax. We’re only being cautious.
Some abortion procedures can leave damage, which may cause an unstable pregnancy later.”

Beth’s stomach churned. She braced herself, knowing she couldn’t hold back. She threw up all over the floor. The nurse grabbed a basin from the cabinet and held it for her.

“Miss.” The nurse called to Alex. “Can you hold this for your friend? I’ll be right back. I’ll order medicine.”

Alex rushed to Beth’s bedside, taking the small plastic bowl and holding it. “Try to relax, Mama. God will get you and your baby through this.”

“No,” Beth told her. “I’m being punished for my past sins.”