The next day, about ten minutes after her boss had gone past her desk with a smile and a “hi” on his way into his office, Carla took a deep breath and knocked on his closed door.
“Come in,” Marc’s voice intoned, and Carla entered, taking another deep breath.
“Hello,” she said, wishing she sounded more confident.
“Good morning,” was the cheerful reply.
“I… want to thank you for…” She hesitated, at a loss for words despite all the rehearsing she’d done at home.
“Rescuing you?”
Carla could feel a deep blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes.”
“You’re entirely welcome. I hope you’re not offended by my invading your privacy…”
“Oh, not at all,” Carla started to say, but Marc continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
“…but I felt a little back-up was called for.”
“I’m so thankful you came by. He was acting kind of menacing, and I panicked when I heard him open the utensil drawer.”
“You did the right thing, running out the door.”
Carla sighed. “I just want to forget the whole thing.”
“Yeah. It’s part of life, wanting to forget.” He smiled.
Carla looked at him, surmising he was thinking of events in his own life that he was probably having a hard time forgetting. She wished she could come to his rescue as he had come to hers. “There is a way,” she thought, and then all of a sudden, she decided to say so.
“There is a way to really put things behind us, you know, even if we can’t completely forget.”
“Yeah?”
Marc’s phone rang, and he bent over to pick it up. It was obviously a call he couldn’t put off, Carla noted, watching as he positioned his briefcase on the desk to unzip it and then began taking papers from his drawer. She quietly walked out the door, shut it, and resumed her work. Truth to tell, she was glad for the interruption. After all, what would she have told Marc? It was easier just to go back to work and assume the Holy Spirit had better plans.
But somehow, she felt more conviction than peace. Why had she felt relief at the interruption by the phone call? She had to admit it was from a fear that if she shared too much of what was really in her heart, Marc might really be put off and no longer be attracted to her—and maybe not even want her as his secretary.
On the other hand, did she want to hide the truth of who she really was—that she perceived things—everything—from the viewpoint that God was her real boss; that her purpose was to please Him, and her essential happiness came from doing so? And if this was indeed the premise of her life, was guarding her own interests more important than catching hold of any opportunity to share the Good News with another person—especially one to whom she was so strongly attracted?
“Oh, Lord,” she pleaded under her breath. “It’s You I want to please. If Marc’s put off, I know You have a plan for me.” The scripture she’d memorized a few weeks before came to the forefront of her thoughts, and it was as if God Himself was intoning the words for the first time right to her heart. For I know the plans I have for you, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.
“Here I am, worried about what’s going to happen, Lord, and I don’t have to worry about it. But what do you want me to do?”
Ask him to come over for dinner.
“What… When?”
When do you want?
“This weekend?”
The door opened and Marc just stood there in the doorway for a moment. Carla found herself laughing inside, saying, “All right, all right!” to God. When Marc still said nothing, Carla spoke up.
“Marc, would you like to come over for supper next Saturday?” Before he could answer, she found herself adding, “…as a thank you for the time you spent rescuing me last night?”
Marc’s half smile showed he was amused, but still he said nothing.
“Well?” Carla didn’t know what to think, and she could feel the color coming on.
“You don’t have to do that.” His face broke out in a grin. “But how can I say no to such an offer—especially when your face has turned bright pink?”
Carla’s hands flew to her face. “It doesn’t help to talk about it,” she protested good-naturedly between her splayed fingers.
Marc threw back his head and laughed. “I should be sorry, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes!”
“I’m sorry I’m not.”
“Hmm?”
Marc laughed again. “What time shall I come?”
……….
Midge Ferguson took a sip of coffee and looked out the window, not really focused on what she saw. She was engrossed in her writing, striving to clarify her thoughts in order to concisely describe them. It was another poem ostensibly for anyone, but actually for Little Nick. As thoughts formed, she jotted them in a looseleaf notebook.
The phone rang just as she lifted her cup to take another sip of her flavored coffee. Crossing the room, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi, Midge. This is Bonnie.”
“Hi, Bonnie!” Midge’s voice was welcoming. “How are you?”
“I’m fine; how are you?”
“Well, actually, I’m doing very well. I miss my little boy—I can’t deny that, but I’m still doing all right.”
“You’ll miss him always, until he’s old enough to be on his own and able to appreciate having two mothers.” Bonnie hesitated and then asked cautiously, “Have you seen him recently?”
“Yes, I got to see him a month ago, on the tenth. Oh, Bonnie, he is so cute!”
“I’m sure. What color is his hair now?”
“Brown—chestnut brown.”
“Chestnut brown,” Bonnie repeated, appreciatively. “And his eyes?”
“Dark brown, just like Nick’s. He’s such a handsome little guy.”
“How are his parents—his adoptive parents, I mean?”
“No, Bonnie, please call them his parents. I’m his birth mother, but they’re his parents. And they’re doing very well. I feel so blessed that Nicky is so incredibly loved. When I saw him on that Thursday, he wouldn’t come to me at first.”
“Oh…” Bonnie interrupted with sympathetic understanding in her voice.
“No, no, no. I wasn’t sad. I was glad. That’s as it should be. It’s just like you said. When he’s older, that’s when I’ll get to step into my role as a second mom to him. Even though he won’t need my physical care, he’ll know he’s always had my love.” She smiled. “He’ll be glad to have two full-time moms then. Right now, one is best. The Mackeys—both of them—really love him.”
“That’s wonderful, Midge. And you have such a great attitude. You know you can’t out-give the Lord.”
“I’m learning that.” Midge nodded her head.
“So am I…still.” There was a moment of silence before Bonnie spoke again. “Do you ever talk to Nick?”
“Yes, we talked not too long ago.”
“How are things with him?”
“I’m not sure. He really wants to see Nicky, and I’ve kind of put him off.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m not sure why,” Midge said. “I guess I’m still a little bitter.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“No. Actually it helps to talk about it. I was discussing the situation with my folks the other day, and we were saying how even if Nick had wanted to keep the baby, we would probably not have gotten married and tried to raise him ourselves. We would probably have decided on adoption for sure. But when I think about how precious our little boy is, and how sweet he is, and how cute he is—even when he cries… I just can’t imagine never allowing him to be born.”
“I know. Some things are hard to understand.”
“Honestly, Bonnie, I feel bitter towards his folks more than Nick himself. They’re the ones who pushed him into insisting that I have an abortion.”
“Yes, probably, but I’ll bet now they want to see that baby as much as Nick does.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they do,” Midge agreed. She heard Bonnie sigh and went on. “Actually, part of the reason I hesitate to let Nick see our baby—or even a picture of him—is because I don’t need anything to complicate matters and upset the peace I’ve found in the whole situation. What if his parents try to get custody? I mean, I don’t think they would, or could, but…”
“Don’t be hurried or manipulated into anything, Midge. I’m sure Nick longs to see the baby—enough to even beg to do so, and the longing probably won’t decrease for quite a while. But God knows all of our hearts, and He’s a merciful God.”
Midge cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Well, did you call to talk with Mom? She’s not here. She had to run a couple of errands on her way home from work.”
“Actually I called to talk with you, to let you know that I’m driving up to Rock Pier next Saturday to participate in a protest at Metro Women’s Clinic. Apparently they’re having a morning coffee to honor the woman who’s headed up their organization for the past decade or so, and the pro-life people who protest regularly are asking others to come out as a witness against what she’s done all these years.”
Bonnie waited a moment for Midge to absorb this information. “My daughter protests,” she explained. “She and my son both go down every Saturday morning. Michael’s fiancée does, too. They’ll be there. I wanted to ask if you’d care to join us.”
“How long will it last?”
“Oh, I think only about an hour and a half. At least, that’s as long as I’m planning to stay. I have an early afternoon appointment, and Carla has something going on that evening that she has to get ready for.”
“I’ve never been to a protest before.”
“I hadn’t either until not too long ago,” Bonnie replied. “It’s not a big deal. Some people carry signs. Some people call out to the moms and dads going in to have the abortion. It’s a protest—we’re protesting what they’re doing.” She paused. “I’m grateful we can. In Nazi Germany no one was allowed to protest. But we have freedom of speech in America, and we can voice our protest and be witnesses against the killing of children who deserve to grow up just like little Nick.”
“I know. It’s so sad.”
“That’s why I was hoping you might like to come. You epitomize, in their eyes, the perfect abortion candidate. You were only fifteen when you got pregnant. You had school ahead of you. You were too young—in their eyes—to have to bear such responsibility, and the way out was abortion. But you can be there to let them know that the baby’s death is never the solution.”
“Mmm.” Midge’s mind switched all of a sudden to the mode of creative writing. “Yes, Bonnie, I’d love to go with you. It’s OK if I bring a sign—any sign?”
“Yes,” Bonnie answered with delight. “And if Lou would like to come, I would just love it.”
“I’ll ask her. She just might,” Midge said. “What time?”
“The protest starts at 8:30 and Blanche Pallori is supposed to arrive at 9:00. How ’bout if I come by at 7:15? We can pick up some coffee on the way over.”
“All right. I’ll ask Mom as soon as she gets home and have her call you.”
“Sounds great.”
“Thanks, Bonnie.”
……….
Having just arrived at the clinic, Nancy climbed out of Michael’s car and waited for him to shut the door before she whispered, “Look at all the people!” Michael seemed as surprised as she.
“Wow! Blanche must be a big whig,” Carla commented, as she stepped out of the back seat. “Is Mom here yet?”
“I don’t see her,” Michael said, scanning the crowd.
“She is here—over there!” Nancy said.
Carla looked where she pointed and saw her mother, who had simultaneously spotted them and was coming towards them.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, Mom.”
Bonnie reached out her arms in a wide embrace of both Michael and Carla and then gave Nancy a hug. “So good to see you kids,” she said affectionately. “I want you to meet Lou and Midge Ferguson.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Carla, and a look of delight spread across her face. “I’ve heard such good things about you, Midge.”
“Well, they’re all true,” Lou Ferguson chimed in, with a broad smile on her face.
“And I can vouch for that,” Bonnie added.
“I’m glad to meet you,” Midge said to Carla. “And you must be—Michael?”
“Yes, I’m Michael, and this is Nancy, my fiancée.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Nancy said.
Midge smiled, balancing the large sign she’d brought.
Wow!” Nancy exclaimed, reading it.
“That’s a good one,” Michael added. “Did you make it?”
“Yes.” Midge smiled shyly, holding it up.
ABORTION IS FINAL.
IT’S FATAL.
LET’S TALK, MOM.
Carla raised her eyebrows appreciatively. “That’s a really good sign, Midge.”
“That’s what I told her,” Bonnie said.
“So…are they open today?” Michael asked.
“They don’t seem to be,” Carla answered, surveying the crowd of people inside the four-foot-walled parking lot. She seemed to be looking at each row, one by one, as though she were looking for someone in particular.
“What are you looking at, Carla?” Nancy queried, as she discreetly pulled Carla over to one side where they could speak privately.
“I’m looking to see whether I know anyone,” she whispered. Then she gasped. “And yes, I do. Look at the fourth person from the end over by the tree, Nancy. Isn’t that Rita Helgessen?”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. I’m sure that’s Rita.
“Oh! It is!”
“It sure is,” Carla said in an excited whisper.
“I wonder if she sees us.
“Sure she does,” Carla said. She didn’t try to hide the heightened emotion she felt.
“Well,” Nancy observed, a smile of resignation compressing her lips, “she’s wanted to know what we do on Saturday mornings. Now she knows.”
“It’s kind of awkward, isn’t it?” Carla observed. “I mean, we can’t yell out to her, and a wave is kind of lame, especially in view of the situation.”
“Well, I’m going to stand right here where she can easily see us, because I’m very glad to be on this side,” Nancy announced.
“Me, too. It’s sad, though, isn’t it—Rita over there, us here?”
“Mmhmm,” Nancy responded. She looked at Carla and hooked elbows with her. “It’s also sad that so many, many girls have to live with the fact that they’ve killed their own children.”
“Not just girls,” Carla said.
“And guys,” Nancy corrected herself.
“Mmhmm.”
Nancy looked keenly at Carla. “Are you thinking of… Marc?”
“Yes.” Carla turned to Nancy, shaking her head. “How hard it must be to have someone else make the decision to kill your child.”
“Yes,” Nancy agreed, “I really think it must be easier for Marc, though—far easier in the long run—not to have to carry the guilt of that decision. Marc is not the perpetrator—he’s one of the victims.”
“That’s true; at least we hope so.” Carla sighed and walked back over to Midge. “Midge,” she asked with a smile, “would you let me carry your sign for just a little while?”
“Sure,” Midge said, obviously somewhat surprised.
Carla took it, and proceeded to walk to a prominent spot where the sign drew all the attention of both opposing groups.
Michael looked at Nancy, as if to ask, “What’s going on with Carla?”
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled.