The Friday after Valentine’s Day couldn’t have come too soon that year for Sig Thorsten. He felt like he was on top of the world. A very pretty girl was in love with him. Smiling with contentment, he stepped out of his car and climbed the steps to Carla’s apartment. He rang the doorbell and was waiting impatiently when he heard Carla call out.
“Sig?”
“Yeah, Babe.”
“I’ll be there in just a second.”
Sig didn’t answer, except to start whistling. He was straightening his tie when Carla opened the door, and he spontaneously let out a low cat call. He had always thought Carla was decidedly attractive, but today she was stunning, and he was caught off guard with surprise. Despite himself, his eyes opened wide, and he blurted out, “You look gorgeous!”
Carla knew Sig’s reaction would be just that—surprise and delight and a fair amount of disbelief. She smiled demurely, holding back the thousand grins that burst at the seam of her smile in a most infectious way.
Sig let out a roar of delight. “Whew!” He whistled appreciatively once more, exclaiming, “Baby, we’re in for a good time tonight!”
“So where are we going?” Carla’s voice was filled with pleased anticipation.
“Ah, I can’t tell you yet. Mucho miles, but it’ll be worth it.” Sig closed the door on Carla’s side and ran around to his own.
Once on the freeway a few moments later, he reached over and kissed Carla, squeezing her hand gently in his own. “I’m glad we’re celebrating Valentines Day. And you are lovely.”
Carla smiled. She felt as happy as she’d ever remembered feeling. Sig looked so handsome, and it was a wonderful feeling knowing she brought such delight to him. “Isn’t it a beautiful afternoon?”
“Mmm. Yeah. It’s beautiful, all right.” He looked at her face as he said it, teasingly applying the appraisal to her.
With music dominating the atmosphere, the couple made small talk about their jobs and their families. Sig’s song collection seemed totally appropriate for this particular engagement of two young people so enamored of one another.
The minutes grew into an hour and then two hours. Finally, Carla asked, “Sig, where are we going? We’ve driven at least a hundred and fifty miles, haven’t we?”
“Yeah!” he answered with an enthusiasm that precluded any apology. “And we have about one more hour on the road.” He looked at her. “You need to stop?”
“Well, no; I was just thinking it’s a long way. How are we going to make it back tonight?”
“That’s why we left so early. We’ll make it. Otherwise,” he said, stealing a glance at her, “we can always stop at a motel.”
She smiled an “I-don’t-think-so” look at him and then down at her hands, studying the cuticle on her left index finger. “I thought you had to work tomorrow.”
“Actually, I don’t. Jay gave me the day off. He’s a good egg now and then.” He looked at Carla. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”
“Well, no, nothing too important, but…”
Sig interrupted. “We should be OK, anyway. I think you’ll find it’s worth the ride. I hope so. Hey, aren’t you enjoying sitting by me as much as I’m lovin’ having you so close?”
Well, of course Carla was enjoying the ride with Sig. The scenery was amazing, especially when they turned off the interstate and the road began winding through woods that were beautiful even in winter. Finally Sig turned off the county road onto a private drive at a sign that read “Moose Hollow.”
“What a name!” Carla chuckled. “Is that where we’re headed?”
“Mmhmm.” Sig squeezed Carla’s hand. They drove through what was obviously a resort acreage nestled on the southeast end of a beautiful lake surrounded by spruce and white pine. Sig turned off onto another road and drove another quarter mile or so before turning into the drive of a towering lodge, rustic but yet stately and impressive. Carla thought to herself that if there were ever a castle built of logs and stone, this was it. She sucked in her breath and looked at Sig.
“Is this Moose Hollow?” she asked.
“This is it. You think it’s worth the drive?”
“Wow!” Carla was obviously impressed.
A valet came out to the car immediately, and Sig escorted Carla into the foyer. The décor inside was beautiful, with an enormous fresh bouquet boasting exotic flowers and demanding first attention. The smells of delectable food evinced appreciative responses from both Sig and Carla, who were quite hungry by now.
“Where’s the restaurant?” Carla’s blunt question amused Sig, because she was asking precisely as Sig had envisioned her doing.
“You’ll see,” he grinned, walking over to the registration counter. Carla accompanied him.
“I’m Sig Thursten, and I have a reservation for two.”
“Oh, yes, sir. Right this way.” The woman smiled at Carla and led the couple halfway down a wide hall to a small room. A man about forty-five rose from his desk and greeted them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thorsten? Please follow me.” He stepped into the hall and began walking.
“They think we’re married, Sig,” Carla whispered, a hint of apprehension in her voice.
“My name is Lewis,” the man said, stopping to wait for them. “When you’re ready to dine, and if you need anything in the meantime, please ring for me.” He gave Sig a small device with a button to press, which Sig nonchalantly placed in his coat pocket.
Carla was glad for what she was wearing: this was an elegant atmosphere. She walked with Sig, following Lewis until he stopped at an open door, turned to them, and gestured with his arm.
“Here’s your suite. Dinner is served until eleven.” He followed them in and then walked over to the far end of the room, drawing back the curtain. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the view,” he said, a pleasant smile spreading across his face.
Even caught at a glance from the doorway, the view was indeed a sight to behold, despite the fact that the sun had set almost twenty minutes before. The day had been unusually clear, but now wisps of clouds hovered over the lights of the village across the lake. Sig and Carla looked at each other with eyes wide with amazement at the beauty beyond the glass doors.
The suite, as Lewis had called it, was a cove-shaped large room which stretched out to a curving veranda that established complete privacy from next-door guests. The glass door on the south end of the thirty-foot room led to an all-weather table and two chairs. Centered on the veranda was a beautiful hot tub with crystal-clear water lit up in a way that showed off the beautiful sea green and turquoise hues of its mosaic tiles. The west side of the lanai was empty except for a winter vine that climbed the privacy wall behind it. This allowed for an uninterrupted view of the lake from inside the glass wall next to the glass door. And in front of the glass wall was an elegant table for two, fully appointed with china and silver, with crystal goblets for the champagne sitting in ice on the table.
As the man called Lewis excused himself, Carla, having seen not only the tables and hot tub, but the bed with a white satin spread on it, found herself quite speechless. She walked over to the glass in silence. Sig shut the door quietly, almost reverently, and came over to stand with his arm around her.
“Do you like it?” he whispered.
“It’s beautiful.” Carla chose her words carefully, thankful for at least outward composure. She wanted to say, “But we’re not on a honeymoon.” She bit her tongue, appreciative of the high dollar Sig must have spent on their evening together.
“Are you hungry?” Sig queried, with an uncharacteristic gentleness that told Carla he knew he was overstepping the unwritten boundary that had hitherto engulfed their relationship.
“Yes, I’m starved,” she said, with a wary smile on her face.
Sig turned Carla to face him, wrapping his arms around her. But Carla turned her head when he began kissing her.
“Oh, look at the swans, Sig. Three—no, four.”
She stood gazing at the white birds on the lake, thankful for this detour for a moment from Sig’s accelerating physical attention, until he said abruptly, “Let’s see what’s for dinner, Baby.”
Sig picked up the menu from the table so finely set, and Carla stood with her back to the bed. The “surprise” evening she’d so anticipated included a dimension she was having a difficult time absorbing without resentment. Much as she was attracted to Sig, she wasn’t ready to go to bed with him, and she didn’t like feeling pressured into doing so. She felt manipulated. Obviously she didn’t know Sig as well as she had thought, and he was no doubt feeling the same way, Carla readily concluded.
Together they decided on a meal of six courses. After Sig had given the order to Lewis, he brought Carla’s coat and helped her into it. Donning his own, he took her hand and led her out onto the veranda. The air was cold, but it was obvious that several other couples were standing outside as well. Voices and intermittent laughter seemed to come from both sides, as well as above them.
“How’d you find this place?” Carla asked, feeling a need to talk. “It’s so beautiful, and I didn’t even know it existed.”
“The guy who lives next to me told me about it. I guess it was a private family campground for some rich guy for a long time, until four years ago when they built the resort. They’ve got a good thing going: it’s reserved for the next two years already. I just got in because there was a cancellation the same day I called.
“Mmm.” Carla’s response was diminutive though appreciative.
“It’s cold out here; let’s go back inside,” Sig suggested. “But you haven’t really told me. Do you like it—the room, I mean?”
Carla’s green eyes averted Sig’s, as they reentered the room. She struggled for an answer that would convey her feelings honestly. Ever since they’d arrived at Moose Hollow their conversation had not been free and candid, as it had always been up to that point, and she wanted to get back on track, at the same time recognizing the risk of confrontation this might entail.
“Do I like it?” she responded slowly, contemplating her answer as she gave it. “Well, it’s beautiful, like I said. And I’m sure the food will be wonderful, too.” She glanced at Sig with a weak smile, accepting his help as she took off her coat, then turned away, looking off to the side. “But you didn’t tell me this was an all-night date, and I didn’t come prepared.”
“What’s there to prepare?”
“Well, maybe not much for you, but a whole lot for me.”
There was a knock at the door, and Lewis walked in. “Dinner is served. Lobster en crème as appetizer. Enjoy!” His confident smile thawed the air, and Sig and Carla walked to the table.
Sig directed her towards the chair from which the bed was in full view, but she went to the other one, instead. “I’d like to sit here, if you don’t mind. I like watching the swans.”
The appetizer, and indeed the whole meal, right through to the espresso, was sheer culinary artistry; and despite the conflict in the air, the subject of overnight was set aside as their hunger was abated in a most enjoyable way. The wine took its toll on the rough edges of their differing feelings, and the young man and woman revisited their sites of mutual admiration. When Sig had finished his fifth glass of wine, and the bottle was empty, he got up from his chair and went over to help Carla out of hers. He pulled her up and gave her an involuntary hug.
“I am full—of wine,” he chuckled. “Do I look inebriated?”
“No,” Carla responded, “But I bet I do. I sure feel like it.”
Sig, still holding Carla close, sidestepped to the bed, and before Carla had a chance to back away, he pulled her down onto himself and began kissing her face and neck profusely. Carla had a mixed reaction to this. For just a moment she allowed her own body to catch fire from his, but after the flare, she caught hold of her emotions and struggled to a sitting position on the rumpled bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Sig’s voice was a little slurred as he pulled her back down beside him.
“I need to use the bathroom.” Carla insisted, surprised at her own quick response and the deliberate, purposeful tone of her voice. Sig let her get up this time, and she walked over to the bathroom door next to the outside hall. Much as she liked—and yes, perhaps loved, Sig, she had the unwelcome feeling that the special evening she had so anticipated could easily turn into into a sordid date rape. As she locked the door, she hoped Sig would be understanding that she didn’t feel ready to have sex with him, but in his stuporous state she wasn’t sure he’d try very hard.
“God, help me.” As the words fell soundless from her lips, she recognized a cold fear gripping her. That seemed a little peculiar. She hadn’t felt any fear until just that moment, but now she experienced a sense of urgency, and she prayed again. “Keep me safe. Show me what to do.” It was the most sincere prayer Carla Chadwell had ever uttered in her twenty-three years.
She flushed the toilet, let the water stop running, and flushed it again, hoping to buy time and to help kill any atmosphere of romance. Then she splashed her face with cold water, not caring anymore about her makeup.
“I should have guessed what Sig was up to,” she chided herself. “He said it was a long drive, but he never told me it was almost four hours away. The jerk!” The words stuck in her throat as a heavy knock sounded on the door.
“Carla, I’m waiting. C’mon, Baby!”
Carla’s heart was pounding so hard she thought surely Sig must hear it. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She made her voice sound as relaxed as she could.
“OK, but hurry.” His voice faded as he turned back toward the bed.
“God, what shall I do?” Carla frantically prayed.
Leave. Leave now. Go find Lewis. The urge seemed almost audible, it was so strong.
“OK, God. But please, I’m going to need Your help.”
She heard Sig groan in his semi-stupor as he rolled over on the bed, and in that instant she stepped out and as quietly as possible removed her coat from the open closet across from the bathroom, picked up her purse, opened the door which amazingly hadn’t been bolted, and stepped out into the hall.
……….
Carla was glad for the music Sig had brought—glad that the song playing at that instant had a heavy beat to cover the noise she made. Once in the hall, she ran fast but softly. She saw with relief a man sitting in a chair in the hallway. It was Lewis, reading the paper. He looked up as she approached.
“Please help me. I’m afraid my date might rape me!” The desperation of the whisper as much as the words themselves caused Lewis to throw down the paper and look up at Carla.
“What?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, that’s right. Please help me!”
Lewis grabbed her arm and pointed to another hallway a few feet ahead and on the right. “There’s a door down that hall, on the left side. It’s my office. Go in there. If you hear any commotion, lock the door. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“OK.” Carla glanced down the hall. The man hesitated, and then began walking with her, instructing her as they went.
“When I see that your date has left, I’ll let you know. It would probably be best to have someone come get you tomorrow morning when it’s light out—maybe eight o’clock. I’m sure your friend will have left by then. Go!”
Carla felt embarrassed, even in the midst of the trauma. “I could call my brother, but I don’t have my phone; I left it at home.”
“There’s a phone on the desk. Use it.”
“Thank you so much,” Carla whispered over her shoulder.
“No problem.” He smiled and looked at her. “I have a daughter.”
Inside the office was a small couch. Carla wanted to lock the door, but respected Lewis’ instruction and left it unlocked. Something in his mien gave Carla total confidence in the trust she’d placed in him on such short acquaintance. She sat down on one end of the couch to catch her breath, and looked around. On the table top beside her was just one book, rather worn and laid front down. It was burgundy with a bookmark halfway through it. She picked it up. The Holy Bible.
“Ah,” Carla breathed, with a slight smile. No wonder she felt she could trust him. She laid it back down and sighed nervously. What was Sig doing? Had he discovered her absence? She listened, but there was no sound.
She glanced at the desk, remembering she had to call Michael. “What time was it, anyway?” she thought with a sigh.
Carla looked for a clock, but her heart nearly stopped as the door handle moved. She stared in fright, but as the door opened, it revealed a middle-aged woman standing there, smiling.
“Hello,” she said, and the greeting was full of reassurance.
“Hello,” Carla answered, the look on her face changing from fright to relief.
“I work here, and Lewis and I are good friends. He told me your situation and sent me in here so he could stay in the hall watching in case your friend came out of your suite.”
Carla said nothing, but cocked her head slightly, waiting for the woman to continue.
“I get off at 11:00, and Lewis asked if I could give you a ride to Davine. It’s a little out of the way to Rock Pier, but it would probably prevent your friend and your brother or whoever’s coming to pick you up from meeting each other on the road.” She paused. “Have you called someone?”
“Not yet; I was just about to do that.” Carla paused, a questioning look on her face, and then added, “Lewis said I shouldn’t plan to have anyone pick me up until it gets light outside.”
“Yes,” the woman nodded. “By the way,” she smiled, “my name is Jenna. Jenna Holliday. And I live in Davine.” She sighed. “Lewis is right. We’ve had situations before similar to yours, unfortunately, and it’s best to avoid a confrontation. But, as Lewis and I discussed… it’s your brother who’s coming?” Her eyes questioned Carla, and when Carla nodded, she continued. “Your brother would be taking an alternate route, and if he’s willing to leave now, we’d arrive at about the same time in Davine. There are a couple of little restaurants that are open all night, but I’ll wait until he comes to pick you up, if you can talk him into leaving right away. It’s probably a two-hour drive for him, and that’s about what it is for me, too. I’d rather not wait too long, as I like to catch a few hours sleep before my husband and kids have to be up and around in the morning.”
Carla’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you so much. I’ll call my brother now. Where shall I ask him to meet us?”
“Tell him to pull into the gas station on Main Street. The highway intersects it on the south end of town. We’ll try to be there at 1:30. I have to gather up a few things from my office and I’ll be back to get you. We’ll go out the east door, and your friend won’t see us at all.” She smiled.
“Oh, thanks! I appreciate it so much.”
“No problem. Hope you can reach your brother.”
She left, and Carla walked to the desk and dialed Michael’s number. As she held the phone, she found her hand shaking, and with her eyes still wet with tears, she prayed out loud. “Help him to have his phone on, God. Please.”
The phone rang five times before she heard Michael’s sleepy voice.
“Hello?”
“Thank God you answered!” Carla’s voice was full of relief.
“Carla! You OK?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. But I need you to come and pick me up. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you later. Could you please drive to Davine—right away—and meet me at the gas station at the intersection of the highway and Main Street? A lady’s driving me there, and we’ll be there at 1:30.”
“Where’s Sig?”
“I’ll explain later. He’s OK. I’m OK. But can you leave right away? Please?”
“Sure. I’ll call you a little later.”
“No, I forgot my phone at home. But I’ll ask Jenna—the lady who’s giving me the ride—if I can use hers to call you as soon as we get into the car, so you can reach me if you need to.”
“Got it. See you at 1:30.”
“Thanks so much Michael. I owe you one.” Relief was in Carla’s voice.
“A big one!” Michael’s voice was light-hearted.
Carla smiled in spite of herself. Her brother was the best.
“Seriously, though,” Michael continued, “I’m glad you’re OK. I’ll be praying for you. See you in a little while.”
“OK. Thanks, Michael.”
As Carla hung up the phone, Jenna Holliday knocked softly at the door and opened it enough to stick her head inside. “Ready?” she whispered.
“Yes. Yes, I am.
……….
In the two-hour ride to Davine, apart from Carla’s brief call to her brother, Jenna Holliday kept up light dialogue. Carla appreciated this, feeling utterly drained in every way; and she didn’t make a single attempt to initiate conversation. Her polite laconic manner, however, didn’t seem to deter her chauffeur in the least.
“I’m glad you found Lewis to help. He’s a champ.”
“Yes,” Carla responded with utmost sincerity, quiet though her voice was, reflecting her crushed spirit.
“He and I go back a long way. He was a good friend of my younger brother all through grade school and junior high, until we moved out of state. When my husband was transferred back here and we needed some sort of supplemental income, Dave—my brother—called Lewis and voila—I got my job.”
“What do you do?”
“Bookkeeping, basically. I manage the office.”
“And Lewis?”
“He’s actually the general manager. He takes it very seriously. You wouldn’t find him out in the hall usually, but he filled in for the butler tonight.” She turned to Carla and said pointedly, “I think it was providential.”
Carla raised her eyebrow in a questioning look.
Jenna Holliday responded, “I’m Catholic, and I think our church would label Lewis a mystic.” She glanced at Carla and then explained. “What I mean is, where I’m coming from, in our church, most people have a set form of religion. We go to church, pray the rosary, and we go to mass and hear the reading of the Gospel and the homily.” She looked at Carla, saw her tracking, and went on. “But Lewis really studies the Bible and actually spends quite a bit of time praying. And his praying seems to involve…uh…uh…talking with God.” She turned to Carla, and raised her right index finger in emphasis. “He’s not a kook, though. He’s very intelligent, and he more or less is the most compassionate person I know. I don’t think there’s a single person on the staff here who doesn’t highly respect him.”
“Hmm.” Carla’s reception of this information was perfunctory.
“One time I was in a crisis, and I was just plain fearful. I didn’t want anybody to know, and I didn’t talk about it—to anybody. The only one who knew was my husband. But one day at work, I found a note on my desk. It just had two words on it: Psalm 91. And Lewis’ signature.
“Well, of course when I got home, I looked it up in the Bible. It was very comforting to me. I read it every night before I went to bed, and the fear went away. I asked my husband if he had talked with Lewis, but he hadn’t. So I don’t know how Lewis knew I was fearful, but he sure hit the nail on the head. That’s why I say, crazy as it might sound to you, that Lewis may have been sitting out in the hall in response to his feeling he should be there for some mysterious reason—and then you showed up, needing help.” She raised both eyebrows and looked at Carla. “Interesting, anyway, huh?”
Carla nodded. “I was so relieved to see him.”
“Yeah…”
The two women drove in silence for a time before Carla asked, “What Psalm was that?”
“Ninety-one. Read it when you get home—if you have a Bible.”
“I do. Thanks.”
It was 1:25 a.m. when they pulled into the gas station. There was Michael—and Nancy. Carla took a deep breath. She just wanted to get into the car and not talk, but she threw away that possibility. Thanking Jenna with a firm handshake, she moved from one car to the other, climbing into the back seat of Michael’s car, while waving to Jenna, who was already pulling away.
“Hi, Kiddo,” Michael addressed his sister gently, while Nancy, with a sympathetic smile, leaned back to pat Carla’s leg.
“Thank you guys so much for coming to pick me up.” Carla’s voice cracked and she bit her lip, turning her head toward the window.
“There’s a pillow back there, if you want to catch a few winks.”
“Oh, thanks,” Carla answered her brother. “I don’t feel like sleeping, but I’d rather not talk right now, either.”
“No problem,” Michael said as he pulled back onto the highway. “I just want to say I’m sorry, and I’m so glad you called.”
“Yeah.” Carla’s voice was a mere whisper as she pulled the pillow up behind her neck. Her thoughts were racing, and silent tears ran down her cheeks. She heard Nancy tell Michael that she was going to close her eyes for a little while. Carla’s eyes were closed, too. She felt exhausted, an emptiness hovering in her soul. Sig—the man she’d come to love and trust—had betrayed her. From deep within, a groan encompassed her entire emotion, followed by a long sigh that was exhaled very slowly and silently through pursed lips.
Carla squeezed the tears out of her eyes and stifled a yawn. Curiously, she was feeling very much better. Halfway through another yawn, she stopped, suddenly remembering how she’d prayed in that bathroom a couple hours ago, asking for God’s help. As she relived those moments in her mind, a bit of the fear returned. Where was Sig right now? Would he retaliate? Hopefully not. She hadn’t done anything to deliberately hurt him. Surely he could understand once he was sober… Her thoughts were disconcerting, and she was wide-awake in the back seat, though her eyes were closed.
She recalled Jenna’s words. “I think it was Providence.” From her current vantage point, Carla agreed. She had called out to God to keep her safe and to help her. She remembered praying specifically, “God, what shall I do?” She wasn’t just desperately thinking to herself at that moment, because she instinctively knew she needed help.
“Leave. Leave now. Go find Lewis.” Those were the words that had given her instruction and infused her with courage, compelling her suddenly to act, despite her fear. “Thank God the music was loud!” she thought. But almost before she’d completed the thought, she stopped, a new thought commanding her attention. “I’m not just saying ‘Thank God!’ I mean that. I really mean that.” Her eyes opened in the darkness as she ever so softly spoke the same words again. “Thank you, God. Thank you for that loud music. And thank you for planting Lewis right when and where I needed him.” She closed her eyes again, and her brows knit in concentrated sincerity. “Thank you, God.”
……….
It was almost three hours later when Michael pulled up in front of Carla’s apartment. As the vehicle came to a stop, Nancy turned around to look at Carla, who sat looking pensively out the window. She glanced over at Michael, and then looked back at Carla again. “You OK, Carla?” she asked.
“I’m OK. I just feel a little dazed,” Carla replied, sighing. “Thank you guys again so much for coming to get me. You don’t know how much it means to me.”
“Sig doesn’t have keys to your apartment, does he?” Michael queried.
“No, thank God. He asked for a key not too long ago, and I almost gave it to him, but I couldn’t find my spare one at the time.”
“’Thank God’ is right.” Nancy yawned. “I’ll walk up with you.”
“No, that’s OK. Go home and get some sleep.”
“We’ll catch some breakfast, and then we’re headed over to the clinic,” Michael said. “I can sleep all day afterward.”
“The clinic? What clinic?” Carla asked.
“The abortion clinic.”
Carla was curious but too tired to talk right now. She just wanted to go to sleep in her own bed. Still, she knew that Michael and Nancy were just as tired as she was. “I’m glad you don’t you have to work today, Michael, but don’t get sick!” Carla felt bad that she had needed him at such an inopportune time.
“Aw, don’t worry, Carla. I’m fine, and I’ll hit the hay early tonight. He turned and smiled fondly at the girl beside him. “You’ll have to get to bed early, too.”
“It won’t be hard.” Nancy replied, and then turned to her friend. “Carla, when you walk up to your apartment, turn on your light and wave us off at the window so we know everything’s OK. Walk through your apartment first—just for my sake.”
“I’m sure Sig is still sleeping off a hangover,” Carla flatly responded. But when she reached the top of the stairs, she found a note from Sig on her door. “I’ll call you,” it said. Carla stood still for a moment, wondering what had transpired in that motel suite after she left. Sig couldn’t have slept very long in order to get back to Rock Pier before Michael and Nancy and herself. Had Sig not slept at all and bullied his way past Lewis? She hadn’t heard any scuffle from the little room she’d stayed in. Had he driven back while he was inebriated? Carla knew he had a propensity for speeding, and a chill ran down her spine, as the thought occurred to her that she could indirectly have been the cause of injuries or even deaths of innocent people. Her mind was preoccupied with these thoughts as she went from kitchen to bedroom to closet to bathroom to make certain she was alone in her apartment. Finally, remembering she was keeping Michael and Nancy waiting, she hurried to the window, forcing a smile and waving from the lighted window.
“Let’s go!” Michael pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.
“I thought Sig must have been waiting for her, she took so long,” Nancy admitted.
“I know. Me too.” He yawned, stretching one arm towards the windshield. “How about some breakfast at that truck stop on the edge of town? We still have a couple hours to kill, and I think I could use some good strong coffee.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Nancy pulled down the visor and glanced in the mirror as she felt in her purse for her lipstick. She laughed out loud. “I look like a monster!” she exclaimed.
“No, you don’t. You look like you got ready in a hurry when I called you in the middle of the night to ask you to keep me company. You look just fine.” He sighed in satisfaction and then joked in a southern drawl. “All them truckers’ll be jealous of me; I’m jes’ tryin’ to get used to it.”
“I think I’ll scare them this morning,” Nancy replied, laughing, “but if you don’t mind, I don’t mind.”
“Hey, I don’t mind.” Michael looked at her, his eyes twinkling. “You look mighty good to me.”
Two hours later, they got out of the car in front of the abortion clinic. Almost twenty people had already gathered. Some were clustered in small groups, talking together; others were walking up and down the sidewalk in front of the clinic holding varied signs with messages and pictures.
Michael opened the trunk of his car and took out two large poster signs. The one that he put into Nancy’s outstretched hand said, “Whose choice?” It showed a picture three foot square of a woman’s hand cradling the tiny hand and arm of an aborted baby. Michael’s was an enlarged photograph of a smiling baby. As he shut the trunk, a man driving past hollered, “Get a life!” Michael and Nancy heard a protester yell back, “Save a life!”
“Michael, we need to get Carla down here. Do you think she’d come?”
“Maybe once out of curiosity.” He zipped his coat. “You could ask her, but she’s not the confronting type.”
“Well, neither am I, and neither are you.”
“You got me here,” Michael smiled. “Doesn’t hurt to ask, I guess.”
“I will,” Nancy declared. “I will.”