The way she still did. . . .
The door opened again, and a middle-aged woman in white stood in the doorway. “Twenty-eight.”
“That’s us,” Hannah said softly, rising, her daughter’s hand firmly in her own.
They were ushered into an examination room and joined there by a young black nurse who introduced herself as Brenda. Brenda read through the form Dynah had filled out, rechecking the data.
Dynah asked her several questions and received vague responses. Though the young woman seemed increasingly uncomfortable, Dynah felt she had to persist. “I need to know, Brenda. Won’t you please tell me the truth?”
The young nurse stared at her as though caught in a dilemma. She remained silent for a moment, then shook her head. “I think you might feel better about the procedure if you both spoke with the director. Ms. Chambers will be able to reassure you. Would you like to speak with her?”
“Please,” Dynah said.
Brenda went straight to Elizabeth. “I have a young girl and her mother who’d like to speak with you.”
“I haven’t the time for this,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her temples.
“They’ve asked to speak with you,” Brenda persisted. “They have some questions they want answered.” Elizabeth raised her head and glared at Brenda, who spread her hands. “I’m sorry, Ms. Chambers, but they’re adamant. I’m afraid they’ll leave if you don’t talk with them.”
“How far along?”
“Four and a half months.”
Second trimester. That meant more money. “What did you observe about them?”
“The girl seems to be having difficulty accepting abortion as her only option.”
“And the mother?”
“Supportive. She’s holding her hand and telling her everything will be all right.”
Good. That would make it easier. “All right. I’ll speak with them, but give me ten minutes. I have a call I need to make first.”
As soon as Brenda closed the door, Elizabeth punched the speed dial for her ex-husband’s office. His secretary didn’t want to put her through. “I don’t care if he is in a meeting! You tell him it’s an emergency concerning his daughter. Remind him her name is Kip.”
He came on within seconds, angry and wanting to know what had happened. She told him what the principal had said.
“So pick her up! Why bother me with it?”
“Because she’s made some absurd accusation that I’m abusing her!”
“Are you?”
“Of course not! We were married ten years. You should know me better than that.”
“No, you’re right. You never threw a fist, but you threw words like grenades.”
She clenched her teeth, retaining tenuous control.
“Look,” he said impatiently, “I haven’t got time for this. You’re going to have to sort it out yourself, Liz. Today’s meeting is important. We were in a break, or I wouldn’t have been able to talk to you.”
Why should she be surprised? He’d never cared enough to help her before. Why had she assumed he would jump in now? Even if it involved his own daughter. “What about your new wife? Can she help?” she said, trying to keep the edge of sarcasm from her voice and failing.
“Leslie hasn’t got the time either. She’s packing.”
“Oh,” she said with cloying sweetness, “is she leaving you, too?”
“No. We’re taking a second honeymoon. She flies to Hawaii tomorrow to get our time-share ready. I’m meeting her in Maui on Saturday.”
Second honeymoon. How nice. Her honeymoon had been spent in married housing on the UC Davis campus. She’d spent three years putting him through college. He had never even taken her to Monterey during their ten-year marriage. She had sacrificed a great deal to help him attain his dreams. He had been too busy clawing his way to the top. Now that he was there, he could do as he pleased and forget his responsibilities toward her. A time-share in Maui and a vacation. And where was she? Asking him would do no good.
“Leslie could take Kip with her. I could send someone to the house to pack her things.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Liz. Kip needs to face her problems, not run away from them.”
“You mean the way you do.”
He gave an unpleasant laugh. “Same old Liz.”
“She’s our daughter, Brian. We both worked and planned and sacrificed to have her. I don’t know what to do about—”
“Look,” he said harshly, cutting her off, “this is going nowhere, as usual. You wanted custody of Kip. You got it. You wanted everything your way. You got it. Now you complain. Tough. You hear that, Liz? The court took your side. You got Kip and the exorbitant child support you demanded. I had to fight tooth and nail to get two lousy weekends a month to see my daughter! Seven years you’ve had it your way, and now you wonder why you’ve got problems. Well, don’t think I’m going to step in now and fix the mess you’ve made. Fix it yourself!”
Click.
Hurt and angry, Elizabeth slammed the telephone down. She sat for a moment fuming and then punched in the number for the private school. By the time she was passed from the school secretary to the principal’s secretary to the principal, her temper was ragged, though controlled.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ord, but Kip’s father won’t pick her up. He’s busy getting ready for a vacation in Hawaii.” She couldn’t keep the bitter edge from her voice. What she resented most were the tears that burned her eyes. She thought she’d gotten over the pain of their shattered relationship. It hurt to be used and discarded.
As furious as she was at Kip, the thought of her daughter being taken away from her tore at her heart. Why was Kip doing this to her? Why was she so rebellious and hateful? She had provided her daughter with everything she needed. She had shown she loved her by giving her everything she wanted. She had coddled, nurtured, and counseled. Last year, when Kip had such a crush on that senior football player, hadn’t Elizabeth put her on birth control so she didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant? Hadn’t she even purchased condoms for the boy so Kip wouldn’t have to worry about contracting AIDS? Not once had she tried to stop Kip from trying to find happiness. And this is the thanks she got for understanding! It wasn’t her fault the boy had dumped Kip or that a succession of other boys had come and gone since.
“She’s recanted her story.” Mr. Ord’s quiet words broke into her frustrated thoughts.
“That’s nice, considering it wasn’t true in the first place.”
“She seems very distressed and confused, Ms. Chambers.”
“You said she’s drunk.”
“It’s more than that.”
Elizabeth glanced at her watch. She didn’t have time for this. Brenda would be tapping on the door in a few minutes. If Kip thought she had problems, she ought to spend the day counseling girls in a family planning clinic. “I know that, Mr. Ord. I’m doing the best I can. Can I send someone to pick her up? One of my staff. I could have her brought here to my office.”
“There’s no urgency at the moment, Ms. Chambers. Kip’s asleep right now in the nurse’s office. An hour or two won’t be a problem.”
She felt his hesitance but decided not to question it. “Good. I’ll be there by three.”
“I’d like you to talk with the school counselor.”
“Fine. I’ll do that. And thank you, Mr. Ord.” She hung up before he could say more. With one problem settled, she felt better able to face the next.
Moments later Brenda ushered in the mother and her daughter. Smiling warmly, Elizabeth sat at her desk, her hands folded on the blotter, and surveyed them with what she hoped was a friendly demeanor. She noted the mother’s diamond studs immediately. Although her wedding ring was a simple gold band, on her other hand was a ring clustered with diamonds. Elizabeth noted other signs of affluence. French-manicured nails. An expensive watch. Designer pants and jacket. Italian shoes. The casual cut of her hair cost money to maintain.
The daughter was
blonde, blue-eyed, and lovely, the kind of girl who could make it as a model. She wore an ankle-length floral skirt, a loose-fitting, hip-length white sweater over a pale-apricot turtleneck. Fashionable clothing to hide an unwanted pregnancy.
Elizabeth noticed something else in her swift appraisal of the girl, which brought understanding and pity. Around the slender neck was a gold chain and simple cross. There’s the problem, Elizabeth thought, aware of the burden of guilt that religion could bring upon a girl.
“I’m Ms. Chambers, the director of this facility. Won’t you sit down, please?” she said, indicating the two comfortable chairs. Reassuring a Christian it was her legal right to have an abortion was not the way to set this girl’s mind at ease, if that was her dilemma. The depth of her faith and conviction came into play, though Elizabeth doubted either were insurmountable. The girl was here, after all. The first and greatest step had already been overcome. She had come through the door for help.
Now she would need to help them overcome the foolishness they’d probably been taught. Odds were good they’d been given the usual fundamentalist Christian hyperbole. Thankfully, she wasn’t in such spiritual bondage. She attended a progressive neighborhood community church where others shared her convictions and applauded her work. She had learned there that Satan was a myth, the Bible a collection of stories with symbolic rather than literal meaning, and hell didn’t even exist. It was a concept dreamed up by religious leaders wanting to keep their flock under control. Fear was a strong motivation for being “good.” Now she was free of all that. She believed in God, and her god was merciful and loving and understanding. He made all men perfect, and no one was left out of heaven.
Elizabeth had learned something else over the years too. It was always best to respond to religion rather than avoid it.
“I see you’re a Christian,” she said, directing her words to the girl. She smiled. “So am I.”
Hannah relaxed, letting out her breath softly. If the woman was a Christian, she would understand how difficult this was. She would also tell the truth.
Surprised, Dynah didn’t know what to say. The attractive woman sitting behind the desk was far from what she had expected. She had been led to believe everyone who worked in an abortion clinic was some kind of monster. She supposed it was foolish and childish to think they would look that way as well.
The director smiled again. “Brenda said you had some concerns. I want to set your mind at rest. I assure you, the procedure is quite simple and quick. You’ll feel very little discomfort. We’ll want to keep you here about an hour afterward. Your mother can stay with you, of course. Within a few days, this will all be behind you, and you won’t even have to think about it again.”
Hannah pressed her back into the chair, her stomach clenching. Simple? Quick? Little pain? Easily forgotten? Apparently a lot had changed. “Do you use some sort of anesthetic?”
“No, unless your daughter requests it. That’s an additional expense, of course. One hundred dollars.” She looked Dynah over once again. “You’re not far enough along to need that sort of assistance.”
Hannah had only been two months along, but she remembered the excruciating pain quite clearly. “I’d like Dynah to have something.”
“As you wish. If money’s no problem, we can give Dynah something before the procedure and something to take home afterward.”
Hannah didn’t care about the money. “I don’t want Dynah to feel anything.”
“Fine. We’ll see to that.”
Dynah’s heart took a hard gallop when she saw Ms. Chambers reach out to press a button on the telephone. “I’m still not sure I want to do this.”
The director paused, then took her hand away from the intercom. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk. “The longer you wait, the more difficult it will be on you and the more costly to your mother. I know this is a difficult decision, Dynah, but sometimes we have to do what’s necessary.”
“Have you ever had an abortion?” Dynah said before she thought better of such a personal query.
Ms. Chambers leaned back slightly, studying her, an odd look in her eyes. Clearly she had not expected such a question—nor was she pleased by it. Dynah blushed. “I don’t mean to be so personal,” she said, seeing how the woman’s eyes narrowed in self-defense. She wondered how she had dared blurt out such an intrusive question. “I’m sorry. I just need to talk with someone who knows what it’s like.”
Hannah looked at her daughter.
The director’s features relaxed. “So what you’re hoping for is reassurance from someone who has been through an abortion. Then, yes, if it will be of help to you to know this, I had an abortion when I was twenty-four.” Her mouth curved sadly. “I was putting my husband through college. We were poor, so poor we could barely make the rent. A baby was out of the question. Fortunately, I had a husband who supported me in my decision.”
“And later?” Dynah said softly.
“Later?” the director said, perplexed.
“Did you have any complications? Miscarriages? That sort of thing?”
The woman’s smile was filled with pity. “I see you’ve been misinformed. I assure you there are no ill effects from having an abortion. You won’t have any problem getting pregnant again when the time is right and you’re ready.”
Hannah lowered her head, wondering if she was the only one who had suffered infertility, miscarriages, and years of depression. Was she the only one who dreamed about the child she aborted?
Ms. Chambers seemed to sense Hannah’s distress and responded to it. “Sometimes we have to make very difficult decisions. Had I not terminated my pregnancy, my husband wouldn’t have finished his education. He wouldn’t have been able to provide for us in the way he has.” She turned the picture on her desk to add to her arguments. “As you can see, I have a lovely daughter. Her name is Kip. My husband and I planned for her. She’s been a wonderful blessing to both of us.”
Dynah looked at the picture. In it was a man, handsome and well dressed, standing behind the woman who sat before her now, and a young girl. His hands rested on their shoulders, and they were all smiling, happy.
It would seem life could be built upon a foundation of death.
Dynah began to tremble inside for no reason she could fathom.
She felt trapped, with her mother on one side, her father behind her, Ethan and Janet and Dean Abernathy all around her, pushing and pressing her toward this end. And now, here sat this woman who had gone through it, her life intact, saying it would make for a better future.
And still she wasn’t convinced.
Ms. Chambers studied her for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. “Why don’t you and your mother talk it over?” She stood and came around the desk. “We have a room where you can have some privacy.”
Brenda opened the door for them.
The director put her arm around Dynah as she ushered her toward the corridor. “I know how scary this is for you. I’ve been through it. It’s difficult to put our families ahead of ourselves. Someone will be with you every moment, Dynah. I promise you. You’re not alone. We’re here to help you.”
Brenda took charge of them and led them down the corridor. She glanced back once and saw Elizabeth still standing in the doorway, watching. She could read her expression as clearly as if she had spoken: Do you see, Brenda? That’s how it’s done. Don’t botch it!
“Just press this button when you’re ready.”
Hannah glanced at the young woman and nodded bleakly. “Thank you.” She hoped Dynah would come around quickly so they could get it done and get out of this place. She felt oppressed and sick to her stomach. She prayed God would give her the strength to get through this. Lord, for my daughter’s sake, help me! She looked at Dynah, who was lowering herself into the straight-backed chair and staring down at her clasped hands. “So, do you feel better, having talked with Ms. Chambers?”
Dynah raised her head. “She didn’t answer any of my questions, Mom
.”
“Of course she did.”
“What are they going to do to my body, Mother? Did she tell us? And she said everything would be fine. How can she know? There’s a risk with any medical procedure, no matter how simple.” Her eyes welled and spilled over. “I’m scared. Oh, Mom, I’m so scared.” She looked down again, closing her eyes against the pain she saw in her mother’s expression.
“I’ll be with you.”
“I know, but . . .”
“But what, honey?”
“What about the Lord?”
“Oh, baby,” Hannah said, biting her lip to keep from crying. She moved her chair close and embraced her daughter. She had prayed for this child, and God had given Dynah to her. She had given the child back when Dynah was a nursing infant, promising to raise her daughter up to love the Lord above all else.
And doesn’t she, Jesus? She loves You. She sang her own made-up hymns of praise to You when she was three. I never had to remind her to say her prayers. She was eager to spend time with You, always thinking of others. Do You remember how she stood on the beach and raised her hands to You? In front of hundreds of people, without the least embarrassment. Why do You do this to her, Lord? Why have You shredded her life and deserted us?
Hannah stroked her weeping child. “I won’t forsake you,” she said, grieving, sure God had done so to both of them. “I love you, Dynah. You’re my life. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not ready, Mom. Can you understand?”
“I understand.” Had she been ready? Was anyone ever ready to abort her child? Choice, everyone said. It was a woman’s choice! What choice had she had? What choice had Dynah? “Honey, I understand. Believe me, I do.”
Dynah shook her head hopelessly. “How can you? I want to leave, Mom.”
“Dynah . . .”
“I’m not ready. Please.”
Hannah saw her fear and felt it as her own. Her feelings were so ambivalent. She was so torn. What was she supposed to do? Would Doug understand if Dynah didn’t have the abortion? Would he support her in that decision? No, he wouldn’t. He’d made his feelings clear enough.