The Still of Night
The Still of Night
Copyright 2003
Kristen Heitzmann
Cover design by Lookout Design, Inc.
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-7642-2607-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Heitzmann, Kristen.
The still of night / by Kristen Heitzmann.
p.cm.
ISBN 0-7642-2607-X (pbk.)
1. Illegitimate children—Fiction. 2. Adopted children—Fiction.
3. Birthparents—Fiction. 4. First loves—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3558.E468S75 2003
813’.54—dc22 2003014245
Contents
To Jim, for believing enough to become one
To Cathy, for the seeds
To Karen, for holding up my arms
To Kelly, for unflagging diligence and insight
Rather, living the truth in love, we should grow in every
way into him who is the head, Christ, from whom the
whole body, joined and held together by every supporting
ligament, with the proper functioning of each part, brings
about the body’s growth and builds itself up in love.
Ephesians 4:15, 16 NAB
D
IAMOND OF THE
R
OCKIES
The Rose Legacy
Sweet Boundless
The Tender Vine
Twilight
A Rush of Wings
The Still of Night
Halos
Freefall
The Edge of Recall
Secrets
Unforgotten
Echoes
KRISTEN HEITZMANN is the bestselling author of seventeen
novels, including
Freefall
and the Christy Award winner
Secrets
.
Kristen lives in Colorado, with her husband, Jim, and their family.
H
er legs still shook under the sheet, the smooth skin mottled and stained. The vise had released her, the arcing pain and frantic breaths. All that was past. But her arms would never forget this moment, wrapped around the warmed bundle, its weight transferred from within to her hesitant arms. So fragile, so tiny, yet … tenacious. And soon no longer hers. She allowed no internal argument; the ache was punishment enough.
The face beside her now spoke. “It’s harder the longer you wait.
They need these moments.”
She
needed these moments. They would have a lifetime.
“You don’t want to bond.”
She knew it, yet it was beyond her to extend her arms and relin-quish…
“Let me.” Helping hands.
“No.” She clutched one last moment before raising the bundle her-self. Given, not confiscated … or destroyed. She would have that much.
I
nside the cushion-walled cubicle bathed in morning light, Jill watched Sammi’s euphoria dissolve into tantrum tears for the fourth time in less than an hour. The child’s medication was obviously out of whack, expressed by excessive displays of inappropriate behavior. They’d be lucky to keep her together until the final bell rang; never mind sending her out to regular classes, where she would overload and self-destruct.
Swiftly Jill snatched Sammi off the floor in a modified takedown motion before the kicking feet made contact with the other students in the special ed reading lab. As Sammi thrashed in her arms, Jill’s silent prayers started.
Lord, give Sammi peace. Wrap her in your loving arms. Let her know you’re here in her struggle
.
Classified SIED—severe intellectual emotional disability—Sammi, like most of the kids in Jill’s caseload, had the ability to learn and achieve, but her emotional upheaval sabotaged her efforts. How did one focus such a mind on phonics and structure when all her synapses were haywire? Might as well expect symphonic music from a nuclear reactor. Jill tried not to question why God made Sammi bipolar or why Joey sat in a world of his own until something irritated him out of it.
“Too loud!” Joey pressed his hands to his ears, ready to erupt.
Jill could hear his teeth grinding in conjunction with Sammi’s wails. She pressed Sammi’s face to her breast and confined her arm. Sometimes it seemed the tighter she held her, the more quickly she calmed. She would use a full takedown if it came to it, though she hated to, especially when it would go into the child’s report. Had her father forgotten today’s medication altogether? The call she had made to him was still unanswered—as usual.
Please, Lord, comfort her
. If Joey lost it, as well, she’d have to call for help. She could not contain them both at once.
She glanced at Pam, who looked over from her group under the window, ready if needed. Quickly assessing the situation as defusing, Jill nodded her assurance to Pam, who returned her focus to her own group. It was a judgment call, but she gave Sammi the benefit of the doubt.
Frequently they flew blind, taking each day, each child in stride— short staffed, underfunded, yet still required to provide free appropriate public education in the least restrictive environment for kids whose functionality would never allow the success Jill wanted so much for them. But she ran the program the best she could.
“Jesus loves you,” she murmured too softly for Sammi to hear. Yet it seemed to help. The wails became sobs, which didn’t violate Joey’s receptors as deeply. He rocked himself, refusing eye contact, and pulled the skin between his thumb and forefinger. It would be raw again before he stopped unless Jill could distract him.
But Sammi first. If she could only control everything that might set them off. In a perfect environment she could even teach them to read. As it was, she’d feel grateful to accomplish Sammi’s goal of initiating and maintaining one healthy social contact, and to overcome Joey’s lack of receptive language.
