She felt better for all of it, purged.
Oma stood at the end of the drive, taking mail out of the box. “You must be hungry. You’ve been gone for hours. Come on up to the cottage. I’ll fix you lunch.” She sorted the mail as they walked up the driveway together. “Your mom called. She was worried when you didn’t answer the phone.”
“I left a note.”
“I know. I saw it. I called and let her know where you went.”
“I confessed all my sins to Charlie.” She tried to make light of it.
“He’ll keep your secrets.” She handed her a few envelopes. “Put those on the kitchen counter and come on over.”
After lunch, Carolyn sat on the floor in Oma’s small living room and fingered puzzle pieces. She raked fingers through her hair and stared at the hundreds of pieces. Nothing seemed to fit. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Oma.”
“You’re going to eat right and get your health back. You’re going to stop kicking yourself. You’re going to get up and put one foot in front of the other and get on with your life. That’s what we all have to do.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Nothing is easy, Carolyn. Life isn’t easy. We do the best we can with what God gives us.”
“I’ve made a complete mess of everything.”
“It’s not about what you’ve done. It’s about what you’re going to do now.”
Mom, Dad, and Oma took her to church. Everyone greeted her parents affectionately and then greeted her, too, eyes curious. Some talked about how they remembered her as a little girl.
“So shy and quiet. Such a pretty little thing.”
“I remember when you came to my Sunday school class the first time. You didn’t say a single word. You haven’t changed much.”
A lie they all wanted to live with.
Oma tucked her arm through Carolyn’s and stood closer. “Why don’t we find a seat?”
Carolyn felt strangely at home. She closed her eyes and listened to the choir. She listened so intently to Rev. Elias’s prayer, she felt as though she knew what words he’d speak before he said them. She listened to every word of the sermon. The message seemed to have new meaning after her experience in the park. She knew the One he talked about now. It all made sense. She had been blind. Now, she could see, even with her eyes closed. She had been deaf; now she could hear.
When the service ended, Carolyn made the long walk to the back door, where Rev. Elias stood, accepting parishioners’ thanks for an excellent sermon. He spoke warmly to her parents and Oma. The smile didn’t reach his eyes when he looked at her. “Carolyn.”
“It was a wonderful sermon, Rev. Elias.”
“How would you know? You slept through it.” He spoke tersely, then smiled at the people behind her. She took the hint and went out the door and down the steps.
Carolyn kept going to church, but kept her eyes open. She looked at Rev. Elias, hoping he knew she was paying close attention. She didn’t feel Jesus’ presence in the building, although she saw Him in her parents and Oma and some of the people who talked with her. She felt closer to God in the cemetery sitting beside Charlie’s grave or sitting on the swing her father had built. And she clung to the memory of her encounter with God in Golden Gate Park at dawn, May flowers blooming in the grass.
God loved her, even if no one else could.
16
Mom and Dad’s friend and dentist, Doc Martin, offered Carolyn a job as his receptionist, the last girl having quit the week Carolyn came home from San Francisco. Thelma, Doc’s wife, worked as the hygienist. Carolyn learned quickly that Thelma knew everyone’s business and didn’t mind sharing.
About a month into her job, Carolyn started to get nauseated every time she came to work. She’d always been bothered by the sounds of drills; now the scents turned her stomach. She tried to keep busy answering phone calls, calling patients to remind them of appointments, taking messages, but the smell of hot enamel sent her running for the bathroom.
Thelma tapped on the door. “Are you all right, Carolyn?”
She retched again. “I’ll be out in a minute, Mrs. Martin.” Fighting the nausea, she waited a moment and hoped her stomach wouldn’t heave again. She’d already lost her eggs and toast. Nothing else remained. She rinsed her mouth, patted her face with a damp paper towel, and opened the door.
Thelma stood right outside, expression curious. “You look awfully pale.”
“I’ll be all right.” The telephone rang and she hurried to answer. Feeling woozy, she slid quickly into the office chair and picked up her pencil. She could feel Thelma’s eyes fixed on her back. She jotted another message on the pad.
By lunchtime, she felt fine. The next morning, she felt sick again, and the morning after that. She wondered if she had grown allergic to something in Doc Martin’s office. Thelma, maybe. Just being around the woman made Carolyn anxious, but the thought of having to look for another job made her even more so.
When she threw up Saturday morning, she knew it didn’t have anything to do with the scents and sounds of the dentist’s office. So what was it? Mom heard her heaving and suggested saltines and 7UP. “They’ll settle your stomach.” They did.
At church the next morning, she had to leave the service. She barely made it outside before she puked in the bushes next to the front steps. Mortified, gulping for air, she straightened and saw her mother standing on the steps above her. “I think I need to lie down in the car, Mom.”
Mom walked her to the car. “How long has this been going on, Carolyn?”
“Two weeks.”
She paled noticeably. “
Carolyn shrugged. “It’s probably a flu bug or something.”
“I don’t think so.” Mom looked stricken. “As if things aren’t bad enough already.” She opened the car door. “We’re going to have to talk about this later. Don’t say a word about it to anyone, not even Oma, and especially not your father. Not yet.”
Carolyn slipped into the car.
“Let’s just hope you’re not pregnant.” Mom slammed the door and headed back to church.
Carolyn fought another wave of nausea. Pregnant? Ash had used her for weeks, but that had been months ago. After him, she hadn’t wanted anyone to touch her ever again. She’d been on the pill up until she left the Clement Street house. She’d left everything behind that day, but why would she have needed birth control when she stayed clear of people, except to beg?
The young veteran sitting on the seawall the night she wanted to commit suicide. He played the guitar. He’d given her a candy bar. They’d talked. He kept her warm all night.
She understood now why Mom had that look on her face, why she looked ready to curse and cry, why she thought things were going to get worse.
Curling up on the backseat, Carolyn wept.
Dr. Griffith confirmed Mom’s suspicions. “She’s about six weeks along. I think it’d be wise to check for VD.”
Dad sat stunned at the dining room table. He looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. Pain first, then anger. He punched back. Hard. “Do you even know who fathered it?” He didn’t wait for an answer before
