She could be as honest.
“Yes, there’s that, but mainly, I don’t want to see Dynah herded into a clinic against her will.”
Marva put her plate aside. “It makes me wonder what’s coming.”
Gladys glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, how can we expect to raise up new generations to value life when all around them they’re seeing it as a matter of convenience? I mean, does anyone see what I’m seeing, or am I just a foolish old woman? America’s ‘quality of life’ is beginning to sound like Germany’s ‘Final Solution,’” she said bleakly.
“You’re overreacting, as usual,” Doris said, taking a cookie from the plate.
“Maybe so, but it reminds me of things my father said to me when I was a little girl. He was German. He immigrated to this country shortly after World War I, but he had lots of relatives still in the old country. He and my mother corresponded with them over the years. When Hitler came on the scene, those German relatives thought he was the second coming of Christ. Papa and Mama wrote and tried to warn them what was happening, but they couldn’t see it. They were utterly blind to it.”
“What’s Germany got to do with abortion?” Doris said, lost.
Marva folded her napkin in half and then crumpled it in her hand. “The Holocaust didn’t start in concentration camps, Doris. I remember Papa talking about Hegel, a German philosopher. Papa subscribed to periodicals from the old country and read about the new ethic in the 1920s, before Hitler was even on the scene.”
“New ethic?” Gladys said. “What sort of new ethic?”
“Whatever solves a problem on a practical level must be considered moral,” Marva said. She looked around the room. “Sound familiar?”
“Abortion,” Virginia said grimly.
Doris looked between them, disturbed.
Marva tossed her napkin onto the coffee table. “The first to be killed weren’t the Jews. They started with anyone who cost the state money. They were exterminating the aged, the infirm, the senile, and mentally retarded, defective children. With World War II on the horizon, more undesirables were added. Epileptics, amputees from the First World War, Gypsies, children with minor deformities, even bed wetters, for heaven’s sake. It was only later they went after the Jews and Christians and anyone else who didn’t agree with those in power. I guess nowadays, we’d say they were politically incorrect.”
“That sort of thing could never happen here,” Doris said. “There are too many checks and balances in our government.”
“Really?” Marva said. “How many times have I heard that? ‘It could never happen here.’ It could. I think it’s going to happen.”
“Well, you’re wrong,” Doris said.
“Am I? There was a euthanasia bill on the California ballot a few years ago. I never thought I’d see that happen in my lifetime. Did you? It still chills me when I think about it because I’m afraid of what’s coming. They cloak death with talk of dignity and mercy, but it all boils down to saving the government money. How much does it cost to keep an AIDS patient alive? How much to take care of the elderly in convalescent homes? How about terminal patients in VA hospitals?”
“It costs three thousand dollars a month to take care of George,” Gladys said quietly.
“We’re not talking about George,” Doris said.
“Aren’t we?” Marva said. “I imagine there are probably a lot of people who think taking care of him is a waste of money.”
Doris turned, shocked. “What an awful thing to say!”
“It’s all right, Doris,” Gladys said, patting her hand. “And it’s true.” A flicker of pain crossed her face. “One of the nurses said to me last visit that it was a pity George has such a strong heart. I couldn’t believe someone thinking that way would be working at the home, but there she was, head nurse on the ward.” She looked at Marva. “It does make me wonder.”
“We’re eliminating all our opportunities to show compassion,” Virginia said. “How do you learn something when you can’t apply it?”
“You don’t, and without compassion, you destroy your humanity,” Marva said grimly.
Gladys looked between them. “Do you think things could really go that far?”
“No,” Doris said firmly and set her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “I don’t believe it.”
“Because you don’t want to believe it,” Marva said.
“Just because things happened the way they did in Germany doesn’t mean it’s going to happen that way here.”
“And it doesn’t mean it won’t.”
Virginia leaned forward. “The more you think about all of it, the more horrible it is. There’s no end of ramifications. You mentioned our Bible study, Marva. Well, firstborn children belong to the Lord, don’t they? Doesn’t it say that somewhere in Scripture? How many firstborn are being aborted across our nation? Do we think God doesn’t see what we do? Do we think there won’t be consequences?”
“I’ve had forty-six years to think about ramifications and consequences,” Evie said. “Forty-six long years to see what’s happening around me. Sometimes I feel as though I was at the beginning of a chain of events and somehow it’s up to me to put things right again.” She had done it first, then Hannah, and now Dynah faced the same decision.
She clenched her hand. “This is Dynah’s first child, regardless of the circumstances of its conception! I know her. I know the love she’s always had for the Lord. She wants to do right, and she’s decided to have this child. By God’s strength, I swear I’m going to stand beside her so she can.” Tears welled. “Even if it means I have to go against Hannah and Doug to do it.”
Virginia smiled at her. “They may thank you in the long run.”
Gladys looked at Evie, and tears filled her eyes. Would Evie live that long?
Evie knew what she was thinking. “I don’t have a long run,” she said wearily, her hand relaxing. “I have about a year.”
“Don’t talk that way!” Doris said. “You sound as though you’ve already given up.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m facing facts.”
“You could go through chemotherapy.”
“It’s not an option. I’m seventy-eight years old, Doris. I’m close enough to the grave as it is without pushing it with drugs.”
Doris looked from one to another. “I don’t like this conversation. I don’t like it one bit.”
“It’s not exactly my cup of tea either,” Evie said drolly. “Blame Gladys.”
Gladys smiled at her tenderly, unruffled. “You’re not hanging from a gallows, are you?”
“No,” Evie said with a faint smile. “I’m not.”
“Does your family know you have cancer, Evie?” Marva said.
“I told my son. We’ve talked on the telephone almost every night the last few weeks. I’m driving down to San Francisco tomorrow to tell Hannah. It’s going to be hard in the face of everything else that’s happening, even harder when I ask Dynah to come live with me. I’m going to need help in the months to come, and I hope my request will offer her the way out she needs.”
“Do you think she’ll want to keep the baby?” Doris said.
“Considering how it was conceived, I doubt it,” Evie said. Dear Doris, ever the optimist. “I’d think the baby would be a constant reminder that she was raped.”
“What if she does decide to keep it?” Gladys said.
Evie hadn’t even thought of that possibility. “I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it.”
Virginia smiled. “I’m assuming Gladys invited us here because you need some kind of help. What can we do?”
“I need you to pray,” Evie said simply. “Pray Doug has a change of heart. Pray Dynah stands firm in her decision to have this baby. Pray Hannah forgives me for butting in again. Right now, our family’s torn apart over this situation, and I’m probably going to throw more fuel on the fire. I seem to have a talent for that. Right now, I imagine Doug sees me as an intruding mother-in
-law. I need you all to pray that the words that come out of my mouth will be from the Lord and not from me. I have to speak from love.” She looked at Virginia. “I want that to be my motivation.”
Virginia nodded.
“How about praying the cancer goes into remission?” Doris said. “Couldn’t we pray for that, too?”
“That’d be nice,” Evie said.
Gladys stood and came around the coffee table. Crossing the room, she held out her hand. Evie took it and stood up.
Virginia, Doris, and Marva rose and joined them. As they each laid hands on Evie, Gladys smiled at her. Evie recognized that look: Didn’t I tell you they wouldn’t let you down? She smiled back, her throat closing in thanksgiving.
And then the Widows’ Brigade did all Evie asked of them.
Five old saints called upon their Commander in Chief and went to war against the enemy.
Chapter 10
Joe closed his notebook and shoved it into his backpack. Zipping it shut, he slung it over his shoulder and joined the exodus from the lecture hall. He couldn’t say he had learned anything. His mind hadn’t been focused. Or rather it had been, but not on the subject at hand.
Dynah was on his mind.
It had been nine days since she had called. He wanted to get in his car and drive across the bay and find out how she was doing. Clenching his jaw, he kept walking, knowing he couldn’t do that. She had to make her own decisions. He didn’t have the right to butt in again.
Unless she asked.
Which didn’t seem likely after the long silence.
She had called to tell him her parents’ marriage was on the rocks and she was staying with a doctor and his family in Mill Valley. She called again a few days later and said she’d arrived home safely and he wasn’t to worry.
Yeah, right.
Taking a break, he purchased an espresso at the student union. Maybe a jolt of caffeine would pick up his spirits. Outside, on the steps of Boalt Hall, a young man dressed in a T-shirt, sports jacket, new blue Silver Tabs, and hiking boots was giving a speech about the tyranny of a consumer-based society. Amused, Joe listened for a few minutes. The young man never would have made the grade in a homiletics class. His points were vague, and he rambled. He didn’t like people putting in their two bits either. Someone called out for him to give up his Seiko watch, and the speaker didn’t even give him the time of day.
Other students lounged around or passed through on their way to the student union or classes. There was a sameness to everyone, though no two people dressed alike. The atmosphere hummed despite the tranquil parklike setting. There was a lot going on here, but not a lot of it had to do with truth.
Joe shook his head. The way he saw it, the thousands of students who thronged the campus were being molded by the values of secularization. Love was libido; judgment, politics; religion, fantasy. Ah, but they all had their gods, though they didn’t recognize them for what they were. Education in and of itself had become a god. He’d seen it too often to doubt it. And then there were the other idols: career, money, position, sex. Oh, they were here learning all right. They were drinking in the poison of a decaying society and getting drunk with the pride of their achievements.
What a dead-end place.
It was laughable and tragic how highly reputable professors would come so close to the truth and then veer away from it. On a college campus, admitting there was a God was secular blasphemy. Two days ago, a professor had cited research from a Harvard professor who proposed that humans are engineered for religious faith. Joe had sat forward in his seat after that statement, waiting for the rest to come. Unfortunately, the conclusion was that evolution had equipped mankind to ponder mortality in order to find a way to dissolve the fear of death. Neat reasoning.
Joe had stood and asked if it was possible God created mankind for a personal relationship with Him. What he got in answer was a pained air, some soft snickers, and attacks from those who seemed threatened at the mere hint of Christianity.
Glancing at his watch, Joe saw it was one forty-five. He was expected to meet a group of eleven undergrads near the steps of the Bancroft Library at two for a Bible study. Eleven curious out of thirty thousand–plus. Odd that so few made him feel hopeful, but then Jesus had started with twelve. Twelve against thousands, but the odds had been stacked in God’s favor.
Finishing his espresso, Joe crumpled the cup and tossed it into a garbage bin.
Only eight showed up. Maybe his homiletics weren’t that great either.
Joe suggested they sit on an expanse of lawn not far away. He started on time with a prayer and then picked up the discussion of the Gospel of John where they had left off at their last meeting. A few minutes later, the missing students arrived with three friends. Joe welcomed them with a broad grin. Things were looking up.
It was a mixed group, with only two other born-again Christians: a girl from Iowa and a foreign exchange student from Hong Kong. Several came out of curiosity, one to debate. Two of the young men seemed more interested in the girl from Iowa than in Scripture. And one of the girls was looking at Joe with a decided gleam in her eyes. He hoped it was his teaching that kept her so focused. Lord, be merciful. I’m only flesh and blood.
He kept the study to an hour and a half, then ended it with prayer. He had found it was better to have parameters than to let the discussion wander. He asked them to read the next chapter and gave them several questions to think about before their next meeting. Then he dismissed them and tucked his Bible back into his backpack.
The girl who had been studying him rose when he did. When he headed toward University Avenue, she fell into step beside him. Paige was her name, and she came from Tennessee. She asked him questions about what they had been discussing, but he had the feeling she wasn’t concentrating on his answers.
“It’s all very interesting, but I’m still not clear about several things you said.” She looked up at him. “Maybe we could talk about it more at your place. I’d ask you to mine; but I have two roommates, and the place is always a mess.”
Uh-oh.
She smiled. “I could bring some wine.”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
“The wine or coming to your apartment?”
“Both.”
She widened her eyes. “Why not?”
“Conflict of interest.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Are you afraid I might seduce you?”
He stopped and faced her. “You’d try,” he said bluntly. It wasn’t the first time a girl had come on to him under the guise of being interested in God.
She reached out and ran a finger playfully down his sleeve. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“No? Well, you know what I think, Joe? I think you’d enjoy yourself.” She looked him in the eye. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”
The old Joe rose inside him, stirred by her invitation and the pictures suddenly playing in his mind. Time was he would have taken her up on the offer with little thought of consequences or conscience. She was pretty. She had a very nice body. And she was willing. What else mattered?
God mattered. And God knew what was going on inside and outside. God even knew his struggle.
The spark that had flickered briefly died. He recognized this girl. He would have had a lot in common with her six years ago. That was another lifetime, another person. Now, he saw her as he saw his old self: carried away by carnality, eager for a partner, physically attracted to someone. A lost soul. She was looking for love, but not the kind he had to offer.
Joe decided to give it one last try. “Everything you’re looking for is in that book you’re holding.”
Her chin tilted slightly. “What if I told you I was more interested in you than anything this Bible has to offer?”
He could see she meant it as a compliment. “I’d say you were wasting your time.”
She looked surprised and bemused. He figured she hadn’t been turn
ed down very often.
“That’s blunt. I thought Christians were supposed to be kind.”
“I am being kind.”
“You’re being rude.”
“Because I said no?”
Blushing, she glared at him and called him a foul name. “You know what I hate about Christians? You can’t stop preaching, and you think you’re better than everybody else.” Adding a hair-raising adjective to the name she had called him, she turned on her heel and walked away. As she passed a garbage can, she tossed the Bible into it.
Lord, I give her into Your hands. It’s a cinch I didn’t get anywhere with her. He retrieved the Bible and took out his handkerchief to wipe off a stain of catsup from a castaway bag of french fries.
When he entered his small apartment, he pressed the button to play his messages and shrugged out of his backpack.
“Hi, Joe.”
His heart jumped at the sound of Dynah’s voice.
“Just thought I’d call and check in. You must be out evangelizing. Granny got here last night. Mom moved back in with Dad so she could have the guest room.” She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I wish I’d come to Berkeley, Joe.”
Click.
Picking up the telephone, he punched in a number. It rang four times before it was answered. “Hello?”
“It’s Joe, Mrs. Carey. May I speak to Dynah?”
“Just a minute, Joe. I’ll tell her you’re on the line.”
He let out his breath in a hard puff and sat on the worn couch. He could hear Mrs. Carey calling to Dynah. A moment later, another line clicked open.
“Joe?”
“Hi, kid.”
Mrs. Carey’s end hung up, and they were alone in silence, his heart hammering. “The offer’s still good.” He tried to keep his tone light.
“I wasn’t thinking, Joe. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just wanted to run away and hide before everything blew up again.”
“Has it?”
“No. They’re talking. They’ve been talking all afternoon.”
“That’s good.”
“Maybe.”