Читать книгу Silent Pledge - Hannah Alexander - Страница 13

T he loud, piercing cry of a hungry newborn baby streaked through the darkness of nineteen-year-old Marla Moore’s dreams, echoing through the small room like a ricocheting bullet. It was her baby. Her little Jerod. And only she could stop the crying.

Even as she opened her eyes to the dim room illumined by the night-light, her hands automatically pushed back the blankets and pillows. With stiff limbs and swollen feet, she climbed from bed as if Jerod were pressing a remote control programmed for Mommy.

She stepped once more onto the cold painted concrete floor, but before she reached the used crib that she’d bought at a yard sale, she tripped over the house shoes she’d pulled off when she got into bed. She stumbled backward against the bedside stand. The corner of the stand dug hard into the inside of her right calf, and she cried out. She grabbed the side of the crib for support.

Jerod’s cries grew louder and more insistent.

“Stop it!” she snapped. “Just stop it!” She bent over and rubbed her calf, then reached down and picked the newborn up into her arms. Feed him. Then she could get back to sleep for another couple of hours before she had to repeat the routine all over again.

She sat with him on the side of the bed and fumbled with her dirty pajama top. Everything was dirty. She barely had enough diapers for tomorrow, and she hadn’t done laundry in three weeks. How could she? Before she had Jerod, the doctor had told her to stay in bed so she wouldn’t go into premature labor. Now there was nobody to help her. Marla would have called a church for help, but every time she thought about calling someone, shame kept her from following through.

This little town had turned out to be a setting for a nightmare, and she was living it. She couldn’t help feeling she deserved some kind of punishment, but why did this little baby have to suffer for her sins?

Maybe he didn’t. There was an adoption agency in Jefferson City that her doctor had told her about. She had the card somewhere in her purse, and she could call them anytime, day or night. But she hadn’t even been able to think about asking for help without feeling horrible guilt.

Jerod’s cries stopped as soon as he started his early-morning snack, and gradually the pain in her leg began to let up. She’d have a monster of a bruise. She remembered those tight stockings they’d made her wear at the hospital. She was supposed to use them after she got home, too, and she’d done so the first day. But they were hard to put on, and she was so tired she just gave up. If there’d been anyone here to help her…

Against her will, Marla thought again about Dustin. She could close her eyes and see his long, lean face. Now that Jerod was quiet she could concentrate—again—on that last argument before she left Bolivar. She remembered Dustin’s voice when he told her to get an abortion.

Now he didn’t want anything to do with her. As far as Dustin was concerned, Jerod didn’t even exist. Neither did Marla. With Dad gone, there wasn’t anybody else to care.

She sniffed and her face puckered as her body ached all the way from her legs to the middle of her back. “Jesus, what am I going to do? Where are You? Do You hate me now?” They were questions she’d asked into the silence of this room many times these past months. Marla Moore had been a born-again Christian since she was eleven. She’d been raised right.

On the night she conceived, she’d been a virgin, and after that night she’d felt so guilty and so scared that she’d refused to give in again. And when her worst fears came true and the test read positive, she’d told Dustin. He’d dumped her, just that fast. Of course, when she thought about it honestly, their relationship had been going downhill for a long time. Had they ever even had a real relationship? What about the rumors about his other girls?

She looked down at the rounded top of Jerod’s head, the sparse dark hair shadowed in the night-light. For the past nine months she hadn’t planned past this time in her life. She thought about the name of that adoption agency in Jefferson City. It was called Alternative, and these people specialized in helping unwed mothers. The nurse at the clinic had encouraged Marla to give the place a call for help, even if she planned to keep Jerod.

As soon as she could get to a phone, she would make the call. But she couldn’t give Jerod to someone else to raise…could she? She loved him so much, even if he was driving her crazy right now.

She shivered. The room was cold. She tried to keep the heat turned off as much as possible so the bill wouldn’t be so high next month. Her telephone had already been cut off. Her landlord had come by twice looking for rent money that she didn’t have, even though the place was cheap, renting out weekly to whoever came along…right now her neighbors looked and sounded and partied like a biker gang.

When Jerod finished his meal she didn’t take him back to his crib. Instead, still shivering, she climbed back beneath the blankets and drew him in beside her. How much was she willing to sacrifice to make sure Jerod was warm, had clean diapers and had a home to live where the landlord wouldn’t threaten to kick him and his mother into the street?

Monday she would find a pay phone and call that place, Alternative. But she wouldn’t give Jerod to someone else. Who could love him as much as she did?

Clarence sat with his overlapping fat pressed against the handle of the pickup truck door, feeling it dig into his side and hoping the lock was a tough one. Too bad Buck didn’t have a king cab. That would have made this ride a lot more comfortable, and Kendra wouldn’t be squeezed between them like a baby sandwiched between two sumo wrestlers. Okay, maybe a sumo wrestler and Arnold Schwartz-his-name. Still a pretty tight fit. Clarence felt like he was being used as a giant plastic lid stuck over the end of a jar to keep the contents from pouring out. Kendra was pretty special contents.

Why hadn’t he at least thought to bring his sugar-free breath mints? He always carried them because they were the only thing Ivy let him eat. And why hadn’t he taken a shower tonight?

And why, oh, why, had he taken that stupid Lasix? The medicine had kicked up a notch, and it was running water into his bladder like a faucet.

Kendra’s quiet sniffles continued. “Why do you hate me?” she asked, her face highlighted in the glow from the dashboard lights.

“I don’t hate you.” Buck’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Clarence wanted to reach down and pat her on the knee and tell her everything would be okay. He wished he could explain to her how much Buck really did love her. Why did women have to talk such a different language from men?

He could tell folks a lot of things they probably didn’t realize. It was a funny thing about people who were average weight and height and didn’t have any disabilities—sometimes they ignored those who were different. They didn’t act that way on purpose, but people said and did things in front of him that they wouldn’t do in front of skinny people. When he retreated inside himself and kept his mouth shut, somehow he seemed to disappear from their sight—which was crazy, of course, big as he was. But maybe his size didn’t count as much as his silence.

Yeah, it was his silence. For two years he hadn’t spoken to anyone but Darlene, and she’d been so busy supporting them that she didn’t have that much time to talk. Ever since last spring, when Lukas and Mercy had barged into his life and turned everything upside down, things were different. And ever since then something had been changing in him. The depression that’d helped land him in this mess in the first place lifted, a little at a time. The talks he and Lukas had about God, about meeting human needs, had touched him and stayed with him. Lukas and Mercy both had a special calling from God to help people. Lukas had talked about that once, and for a long time Clarence hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. He and his sister were both alive today because Lukas and Mercy had honored that calling.

And as Kendra continued to sniff and Buck continued to grip the steering wheel too hard, it occurred to Clarence that somehow he was still being touched by this calling. Maybe it was contagious—he felt a gentle urge to pass the healing on to others.

He remembered words Lukas had spoken to him only a few weeks ago during one of their talks. He’d said, “Trust me, Clarence, God has something in mind for you, too. I think He’s calling you, and you’re trying to avoid the call because you don’t think God has any use for you. But you’re wrong. Just listen for Him, Clarence. Just be ready.”

And Clarence had made some typically stupid remark like “God doesn’t need any more tubs of lard in His pantry” and the subject had been dropped.

Until now. Lukas and Mercy and Ivy were miles away, but Clarence suddenly realized what Lukas was talking about. And he was suddenly as sure of God’s presence as he was of the fact that if they didn’t stop at a service station soon, he was going to have to ask Buck to pull over alongside the road.

But before he could say anything, the first billboards came into view, and the lights of Springfield burst out over the trees. Kendra covered her face with her hands. Quiet sobs shook her shoulders.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” Buck said, his voice cracking from worry and lack of sleep.

“You don’t know.” She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a shredded tissue to wipe her nose. “You don’t even know what it’s like to feel this way. You save lives and put out fires for a living. Everybody thinks you’re wonderful. They just think I’m useless, like some leech attached to you.”

“You’re the only one who feels that way. I thought we’d settled this a long time ago.” Buck slowed as they drew nearer to the city and more cars appeared on the four-lane highway.

“Why did you even bother to take me out of the car? I’d’ve been out of your way for good then.”

Clarence winced at that and glanced at Buck’s expression in the light from an oncoming car. She’d cut deep on that one. Muscles tensed at Buck’s jaw, and his eyes filled with the quick kind of tears that even the toughest man couldn’t prevent when his heart was being mangled. He didn’t say a word.

Clarence cleared his throat. “Ain’t gonna work, Kendra.”

She sniffed and dabbed her nose and looked at him.

“Nothing’s gonna make Buck stop this truck and turn around and take you home, because then you might try to kill yourself again, just like Dr. Mercy said. And Buck couldn’t stand that. Losing you would tear him up.”

The tears on her cheeks sparkled in the city light.

“Try thinking about how that’d make him feel,” Clarence said, knowing even that would be hard for her right now. A depressed person had trouble thinking about other people.

And then, as he tried to imagine what might be going through her mind right now, another powerful revelation struck him. He was thinking about other people. All those things Lukas told him were true, about loving your neighbor as yourself, about caring for the needs of others, of giving what was in your heart, and how good that could make you feel. Lukas had said living like that was just about the most important thing in life.

Lukas also said there was one thing more important—to love God first. Ivy had said the same thing, and so had Mercy. When you loved God first, everything else fell into place.

And God took your life and made it mean something.

Clarence blinked and looked out his window at the lights of a residential section of the eastern edge of Springfield. The window reflected the outlines of Buck and Kendra and his own dark bulk, as big as both of them put together.

As Buck touched the brake and turned from Highway 60 to Highway 65, Clarence replayed Lukas’s words in his mind. Was God really using him tonight to help Odira and Crystal and Buck and Kendra?

The thought overwhelmed him and brought tears to his eyes.

He sniffed. Kendra turned and looked up at him. Oh, great, here was big, bumbling Clarence crying and getting ready to drip all over the place.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

The compassionate sound of her voice made his tears come faster, and he didn’t really know why. Maybe it was just because all the pain in this truck cab couldn’t help but affect him.

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe God was here with them. What did Ivy put in those chocolate chip cookies?

“Clarence?” Kendra said.

He shook his head. “I’m okay.” He wanted to tell her she would be okay, too, but he didn’t know. Who was he to predict how everything would turn out in the end?

But maybe, like Lukas was always telling him, things could be better. With prayer.

Could he pray?

Out of respect for Ivy, he always bowed his head when she said grace over the meal—even though he barely had enough of a meal to pray over. If she could talk to God for his sake, why couldn’t he talk to God for Kendra’s sake and for Buck’s?

He closed his eyes and felt tears slip down his cheeks. He knew, from those preachers Ivy listened to on TV, that all he had to do was think the prayer.

God, let me help them. Let me show them everything will be okay because You’re here and You care. You are here, aren’t You?

The sudden, soft touch of a hand on his arm startled his eyes open.

“Clarence?” Kendra said. “You sure you’re not sick?”

He smiled and looked down at her. “Nope, but I could sure use a bathroom. Buck? Think you could pull over at that station over there? Looks like the place is open.”

Marla heard Jerod’s tiny baby voice again. She turned toward him on the bed before she even opened her eyes, but a sudden sharp pain caught her in the chest.

She gasped and grabbed at the spot between her ribs. Her breath came in shallow pockets of air, and she could feel her heart beating faster.

Fear washed through her. Was she having a heart attack? Was this what it felt like?

Jerod cried louder. Marla struggled against the pillows and finally pulled herself up.

About five seconds later the pain went away. Oxygen once more entered her lungs, and the sudden relief washed over her in a powerful wave. What was going on?

She took a few more deep breaths and reached for her crying baby, but before she could pull him into her arms, the piercing shaft stabbed her again and forced her backward. She cried out from the shock. “God, help!”

Again the pain subsided and her lungs filled. Was this some weird kind of asthma attack? It didn’t feel like one. And there hadn’t been the usual warning. Still, her inhalers—the ones her doctor gave her for free because she couldn’t afford them—were in the top drawer of her rickety bedside stand. She’d better get them out.

More carefully this time, she reached toward Jerod. He needed changing before she did anything else. She picked up one of the last three clean diapers, and as she did so, she pressed against the new bruise on her right calf.

“Ouch!” She couldn’t hear her own voice over the sound of Jerod’s squalling. And she barely caught another breath before the shaft struck her chest again, harder than before. She dropped the diaper on the floor and gasped. The pain grew worse, and the dim room went black for a few seconds.

But Jerod’s cries brought her back.

She took shallow breaths, willing her heart to slow its beating. She felt weaker now, and she didn’t have the strength to pick up the diaper. She pulled open the drawer and took out both inhalers. While Jerod continued to cry, she fumbled with the sprays. She could barely concentrate on breathing.

Someone pounded from the other side of the paper-thin wall at the head of her bed. “Shut that kid up in there!” came a rusty female growl.

The woman must be a part of that biker gang. Marla wanted to tell her to shut up, but she didn’t have the courage, or the energy.

Another throb in her leg made her grimace. If she’d worn the stockings they gave her, she would have had some protection.

She reached down to unfasten Jerod’s dirty diaper when she felt the hit again. This time the pain shocked her like a kitchen knife jutting through her ribs. She nearly fell on top of the baby before she could push herself away. The room grew blacker. In desperation she slid from the bed to the cold, dirty floor and groped for the telephone, but then she remembered that it had been disconnected.

She had to get help. What if something happened to her? Jerod would be all alone. He could freeze in this room before daylight.

As the pain once more let up, she glanced toward the thin wall. “Help me!” she called as loudly as breath would allow. “Somebody help me, please!”

She heard a muffled groan, and again someone pounded on the wall. “Turn off that TV!”

She closed her eyes in hopeless despair. “No, God, please, don’t let this happen.” With the last of her strength, and the healthy cries of her cheering section, she shoved the inhalers into the pocket of her pajama top, scrambled to the door of the tiny efficiency apartment, unlocked it, and used the threshold to pull herself to her feet.

That was a big mistake. Everything went black again. She dropped to her knees and pushed the door open and felt the bite of winter wind brace her exposed flesh.

“Somebody help me!” she called out into the night. “Please!” As she said the last word the pain came again, and her baby’s cries grew softer as she slumped across the front walk.

Clarence shivered as he climbed back up into the darkened cab of the truck. “Sorry about that, guys. Couldn’t help it. Mercy has me taking this stuff that—” He broke off when he realized that Kendra was crying again, and Buck was sitting at the steering wheel, facing forward, his hands practically white from gripping so hard. The human emotional pain was thick enough in this truck to cut with a chainsaw.

They’d been arguing again. He felt guilty for making them stop. While he was gone, they had just hurt each other worse. But maybe he could help them.

“Look, you two, it’s really late and you’re tired, I know. I’ve gotta tell you, things aren’t gonna be this bad all the time.” He reached over and patted Kendra on the arm. “I’ve been there. I wanted to die, but I don’t anymore. There really are people who care about you, and even though you don’t see it right now, you’re gonna have to trust that I’m telling you the truth.”

Buck’s hands loosened on the steering wheel, and he shot a glance across the cab at Clarence, then at Kendra. She didn’t move. It was as if she felt her husband looking at her, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

Clarence hoped he was doing the right thing. “Would you just let me do something to help?” He waited until they both turned to look at him, and then he took a deep breath and let it out. How hard could it be? “I want to pray for you.”

He couldn’t believe he’d said the words until they left his mouth. Suddenly he thought he might have to go back to the bathroom.

He saw Buck’s eyes widen, and he felt a hot flush rushing over his body. Where’d he get the stupid idea he could pray? Who’d’ve thought that he, church-hater Clarence Knight, would pull something like this at three-thirty on Sunday morning? Had to be lack of sleep.

But then something happened to Buck’s expression. Surprise seemed to gradually change to hope. Maybe it was the dim light in the cab or the weird shadows cast by the blinking sign on the front of the convenience store, but it looked real. Clarence remembered Ivy’s constant harping: “‘Ask and it will be given to you….’ God answers our prayers.” And he didn’t know of anybody who needed prayer more than these two right now. And there wasn’t anybody else in this truck.

“Yeah, I know, sounds funny coming from me, but what could it hurt?” he said at last. “I mean, what’ve you got to lose?”

Buck sighed and closed his eyes. “Nothing, Clarence. We’ve got nothing to lose. Go for it.” He bowed his head.

Kendra turned and stared at her husband for a long moment. Clarence watched her. For a few seconds some of the pain left her eyes.

Then Clarence bowed his head, like Ivy always did. “God, first of all I need to say that we’re praying this in the name of Jesus, just so I don’t forget at the end.” He didn’t understand all that yet because he’d never tried that hard to listen, but he knew Ivy always said these words to end her prayers. “And then I want to ask You to give Buck and Kendra some of the love I think You’ve been showing me lately. And then I want You to stay with Kendra after Buck and I leave, because I think she’s going to need You worse than anybody. And that’s all I can think of to say right now.” He raised his head and looked at them. “Guess that oughta do it.”