Child of Her Heart

“But I want him to come back to me. If I force his hand that way, he’ll be angrier than ever.”

Adam smiled. “Since you don’t like any of my suggestions, what do you want to do, Sonya?”

“I want my husband to come home. I want him to love our child as much as I intend to.”

“I don’t mean to be cruel, but the likelihood of that happening is slim. And if he should return, I doubt it will be in the immediate future. He’ll run the gamut of willfulness before he’ll return to you.”

“Then if that won’t happen, I’ll find a job to support my baby and make a home for us,” Sonya replied firmly. “I want to be independent.”

“If that’s your desire, we’ll do what we can to help you. It’s going to be difficult for you to get much of a job until after your child is delivered, but perhaps we can find something to tide you over until then.” Lines of perplexity creased his face as he considered her problem.

It amazed Sonya that this couple—these strangers—were so genuinely concerned about her welfare. She had never seen them until yesterday, but now they were making her future their greatest priority. Was it the depth of their spiritual faith that fostered this concern? If so, it was certainly a level of spirituality she would hope to attain.

“What about the opening at our school, Adam? She wouldn’t need any special training for that,” Marie said.

A smile lit Adam’s brown eyes. “A good idea, dear.” Turning to Sonya, he said, “We operate a day school in our church building—nursery through the sixth grade. Just yesterday, one of the aides in the nursery class resigned. You would fit in nicely, but the salary is low. I’m not sure it will support you and allow you to accumulate enough for your medical bills.”

With hope dawning in her heart, Sonya said, “I’d like to try it. I’ll be frugal.”

Adam looked around the lavishly furnished apartment and said, “Sonya, it’s a trait you’ll have to learn, since you haven’t been living that way.”

“I didn’t live this way before I was married. My parents reared a family of four on an Ohio farm, and we didn’t have many luxuries. I’ll admit it will be hard, though, because I’ve learned to like this way of life.”

“There’s an apartment complex near the church, subsidized by the government to provide housing for lowincome people. They base your rent on what you can afford to pay. We’ll take you there to see if they have any vacant apartments.”

“You could walk across the street to work, so there wouldn’t be any travel expense,” Marie added.

“I’ll not put you to all that trouble. I have a car and can drive there. I don’t know how much longer I can afford to operate the vehicle, but at least it’s paid for.”

The Bensons overrode her objections and took her in their car to the Washburn Complex in a newly developed area on the west side of Omaha. They pointed out their church, the Community Lighthouse, a shingled building of modern architectural design. The four-story apartment complex faced the church.

The manager of the apartments said they did have some space available in single apartments and two-bedroom units.

“It will have to be the single apartment,” Sonya told her. “I can’t afford anything else.”

But she was hardly prepared for the small area she was shown. The living, dining, and kitchen space was about the size of her bedroom in the apartment she’d shared with Bryon. A small bathroom contained a shower, but no tub. The apartment was unfurnished, except for a refrigerator and stove.

“If you can’t provide your own furniture, we can supply it for you,” the manager said. “We have a sofa that can be made into a bed at night, a small table for the kitchen and a few other items available. We can fit up the room nicely.”

“I’ll appreciate having you do that,” Sonya said, knowing that none of her massive furniture would fit into the tiny space. Some of the enthusiasm that had been generated by the Bensons’ help faded, and she wondered why Bryon would sentence her to living in such a humble place.

Sonya made arrangements to move in the next day, the last day the rent was paid at the Sandhill Apartments. There was no need for delay. Leta had already agreed to buy their furniture, and without a telephone or electricity, the place wouldn’t be livable. She couldn’t take advantage of Leta’s friendship and live at her expense.

Before the Bensons left her at the Sandhill Apartments, Adam said, “We’ll check on you tomorrow night, and you can plan to start working on Monday morning. Will you need any help moving?”

“No, I can load everything in my car and make more than one trip if necessary. I can’t express my appreciation.”

Sonya’s throat was dry, but her eyes watered. Bitterness filled her heart, and she wanted to rail at somebody. But not the Bensons—they had done the best they could.

“Don’t try—just pass along some kindness to others who need it,” Marie said with a smile.

As she walked upstairs, Sonya marveled that it had been easier to take help from strangers than from her own parents. Perhaps it was because they had not stood in judgment of her and had seemed so willing to help. Could their obvious submission to following God’s will account for their generous spirits?

Leta protested Sonya’s sudden move. “I think it’s a mistake, but do what you think you must. If I was in your place, Mr. Bryon Dixon would have been forced to pay for your lodging and expenses in this apartment for a reasonable amount of time. You see how I’m living, don’t you?”

“But you were glad to get rid of your husbands! I want to keep mine, although I admit I might be foolish to feel that way.”

“You won’t keep him by kowtowing to him. He’ll show you more respect if you speak up for your own rights.”

In spite of Sonya’s protests, Leta helped her pack and went with her on the first trip to the apartment. When she saw the small room, Leta exploded, “This is quite a comedown. It isn’t right for you to live in such a place! You can’t possibly be comfortable here.”

“I can’t help it, Leta. It will take half of the salary I make at the school to even pay the rent on this apartment, and how I can eat and save any money for doctor’s bills, I don’t know. I’ll just have to make do.” But in spite of her brave words, thoughts of the future terrified her.

The closet was too small to hold even Sonya’s winter clothing, and they left her summer garments in boxes and stacked them in the corner. Sonya had made an effort to hold back her tears, but both she and Leta were crying before they finished unloading the car.

“Look on the bright side. At least I won’t have to buy any clothing—I have enough to last me for years.”

“Oh, yeah,” Leta retorted. “Have you given any thought to how your body is going to expand? You won’t be able to wear any of these clothes much longer. Please, Sonya, go to Daniel Massie and have him contact Bryon. It isn’t right for him to go scot-free while you’re so hard up.”

But Sonya shook her head and bit her lips to keep them from trembling. “All I have to bring now are my kitchen supplies and a few knickknacks. Let’s go.”

Sonya thought she had cried until there couldn’t possibly be any more tears left, but before she left the apartment for the last time, sobbing constantly, she looked at each item, caressing them lovingly. She and Bryon had such fun picking out their furniture. She stood a long time in their bedroom, thinking of their more personal moments. Had she failed him? What was wrong with her? If she could only get past the feeling that she was at fault, she might be able to accept it. How could she have prevented his leaving?

When she locked the door, she dropped the keys through Leta’s mail slot. She absolutely couldn’t talk to anyone else today.

Sonya placed a few vases and pictures in the new apartment. Even with these possessions around her, the room seemed alien. She ate a light supper, and then started her hardest task. She had to notify her parents. What if they tried to telephone and learned the number was no longer in service? She had caused them enough trouble, and she couldn’t let them have that worry.

Since there wasn’t any desk, she sat at the small dining table to write.

Dear Mother and Dad,

Bryon left me about a month ago. He’s living in California and has no intention of coming back to me. I moved today to the address on the envelope. I do not have a telephone here. I’m starting to work Monday as an aide at a nursery school in a nearby church. Please do not worry about me. I’ll be all right

Sonya.

Adam and Marie Benson came by to check on her, but they had to call at a funeral home, so Sonya had a long evening before her. She watched the small black and white television she and Bryon had used in the kitchen, but the problems of other people soon palled.

It was still too early to retire, but she decided to see if she could unfold the couch into a bed. Considering her other luck lately, Sonya was surprised that it opened so easily. The bed was comfortable enough, but she knew it would be aggravating to fold and unfold it every day.

When she finally turned off the light, well after midnight, Sonya wished for the comfort of the We Care persons, but without a telephone, she couldn’t contact them. No, she was on her own now—either to succeed or fail. But I’m not on my own, and the thought brought her upright in bed. She pushed the light switch and rushed over to the luggage piled in the corner. When she was packing, she had unearthed her Bible. Adam Benson had said the answers were there, if only she could find them. When she found the white Bible her parents had given them for a wedding present, Sonya turned it over in her hand as if it was some foreign object.

“God,” she whispered, “I feel awful, neglecting you all these years and then turning to you when I’m in trouble. But truly, God, I have no place else to turn. Was it necessary for me to be brought this low so that I’d realize how I was straying from my childhood faith? If so, help me now. Direct me to some words that will give me peace of mind and help me through this night and the difficult days ahead.”

Sonya had no doubt that God heard her prayer, and she opened the Bible to the book of Psalms. After she turned several pages, Sonya read words she didn’t even remember were in the Bible. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” And m Psalm 94, she read of David’s struggle when violent men would have overcome him, and she committed to memory the words, “Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in silence. When I said, my foot slippeth, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up.”

Sonya kept repeating those words in her mind when she returned to bed, and when worries about the future threatened to intrude into her thoughts, she gritted her teeth and whispered, “When I said, my foot slippeth, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up.”

Chapter Four

When she awakened again, her bedside alarm showed twelve o’clock. At first, Sonya thought it must be midnight, until she realized the sun was shining in her windows. It was the first good night of sleep she’d had since her estrangement with Bryon. She left the bed and looked across the street to see that people were leaving the church, and she was sorry she had missed going.

Her stomach rebelled at the odor of fried bacon permeating the apartment, and she rushed to the bathroom. With the adequate ventilating system and soundproof walls at Sandhill Apartments, they had hardly realized they had neighbors. But the walls here must be paper thin, she thought. Children ran in the room above her, a television played in the room beside her apartment, and the wails of a crying baby filtered in from across the hall.

Weak with nausea she crept back into bed and slept for another hour. After all that sleep, she should feel rested, but she didn’t. Moving slowly to the kitchen area, she toasted a slice of bread and made a pot of strong coffee. Boxes of kitchen utensils and groceries crowded the cabinet top, and she had many other things to unpack, too. She had to generate energy somehow. She must get the apartment in order before tomorrow when she started to work.

While she sipped on the coffee and nibbled the toast, Sonya wondered how she would like a full-time job. She had worked for her parents on the farm, but she’d never had a salaried position. Such inexperience would have made any job difficult, but when she felt so lousy, she doubted she could give a satisfactory day’s employment to anyone.

Sonya forced herself to finish a glass of cold milk, as her doctor had instructed. During the afternoon while she unpacked boxes, her stomach crawled with hunger, but when she tried to eat, the very scent of the food caused her to gag. The work was finished by four o’clock, and she faced a long evening.

She drew on a jacket over her sweats and went down to her car. Several children played football in the parking lot. She slid into the car, ignoring the glances of three men lounging on benches. She had intended on going to see Leta or the Shraders, but she remembered that the gas gauge had shown empty yesterday. Should she use her small hoard of money to buy gas for pleasure riding?

She got out of the car when she noticed the men staring at her, and that one of them, a short man with a handsome face, had headed in her direction. “Need any help?”

“No, thank you. I’ve decided to walk.”

“Anytime you need any help, let me know. People are neighborly here.”

She rushed out of the parking lot, trying to avoid the man’s attention. Walking would be better for her, anyway, but she needed companionship.

The area around the Washburn Complex had sprouted many housing developments. The larger houses were surrounded by a brick fence, and it was obvious that spectators would not be welcomed. Sonya walked west along a street of moderate houses until she came to a corn field. A brisk breeze rattled the dry blades, and the heavy, drooping ears on the stalks awaiting the picker reminded her of the farm at home.

Sonya retraced her steps, tears in her eyes. When she passed the Community Lighthouse, cars poured into the parking lot. Families entered the first floor carrying covered trays and picnic baskets. Momentarily, Sonya was tempted to follow them, but glancing at her dirty sweats, she moved on. She hadn’t even showered today—she couldn’t inflict her presence on them. No doubt Adam and Marie Benson would welcome her, but she didn’t want to spoil their evening when they’d been so kind to her. She wasn’t fit company for anyone tonight.

When she entered the lobby of the apartment house, Sonya went to the telephone booth. She hesitated about spending the quarter, but she had to talk to someone. Not the Shraders, for they usually ate out on Sunday nights. Surely not her parents! Leta? Maybe, but in the end, she dialed the number of Bryon’s parents. She had always called his parents “Mother and Father Dixon,” but would that be appropriate now?

When Mrs. Dixon answered the phone, Sonya said, without any salutation, “Hello. This is Sonya. We haven’t talked for several weeks. How are you?”

“Well enough, I suppose. Tom is snoozing now. He’s been golfing all afternoon. Has Bryon come back from San Francisco yet?”

Mrs. Dixon’s voice sounded normal, and Sonya concluded she didn’t know about her son’s perfidy.

“Didn’t he tell you? He isn’t coming back. He’s left me.”

Mrs. Dixon’s gasp couldn’t have been feigned. “I can’t believe that. What has happened?”

“I really feel that Bryon should be the one to tell you, because he’s the one who initiated the separation. I’m very bitter about it, so it’s best if I don’t say anything until you’ve heard his version of the situation.”

“When did this happen?”

“I had a note from him a few weeks ago saying that he didn’t expect to return…and he had someone come for all his possessions. In a later letter he indicated that he would no longer be responsible for my support, so I had to move. I’m living at the Washburn Complex. I have a one-room efficiency here.”

“Why that’s a welfare establishment!”

Sonya laughed shortly. “It’s certainly not luxury living, but it’s all I can afford now.”

“I’m going to contact Bryon and get to the bottom of this, and I’ll be in touch with you again. Is your telephone number the same?”

“I don’t have a telephone. I’m calling from the lobby. I’m sorry to trouble you with this, but if Bryon hadn’t told you, I thought you deserved to know.”

Sonya could hear Mrs. Dixon crying softly, and she hung up the receiver gently. She had never been overly fond of her in-laws, but she did feel sorry for them. They would feel keenly the fact that their only son’s marriage had failed.

Adam Benson was on hand to greet Sonya the next morning when she timorously entered the ground floor of the church building. She arrived at eight o’clock, thinking she would be early, but numerous cars had pulled up at the door and unloaded children while she had crossed the parking lot

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said to Adam. “What time should I come to work?”

“You aren’t late because we hadn’t discussed your hours. About all you can do today is meet our other staff and observe. Tomorrow, you should come at seven o’clock and plan to work until two. We try to accommodate parents who go to work early. A few children are here after two o’clock, but we have sitters with them. No school after two.”

“I haven’t had any experience working with children.”

Adam patted her on the shoulder. “Sonya, you’re going to be great at this job. Stop fretting.”

But when he led her into a room housing more than a dozen active three-year-olds, Sonya’s courage deserted her completely. Only Adam’s hand on her arm kept her from bolting out of the room. A woman held the hands of a pair of blond girls, who were evidently twins. They tugged to get free of her hold.

Behind the woman two little boys threw play dough at one another. When Adam and Sonya appeared, one black boy raced to Adam, shouting, “Here’s the preacher. Catch me,” he said as he jumped into Adam’s arms.

The scene was pure bedlam, and Sonya thought maybe Bryon was right about having children. But the door behind them banged suddenly, a whistle blew, and the children dived toward their assigned seats at the table. In a few seconds hardly a sound could be heard.

Sonya turned to see who had wrought this miracle. A small, gray-haired woman walked toward Sonya with outstretched hand. “Is this my new helper?” she asked. The woman radiated energy and efficiency.

“Sonya, meet our dedicated nursery teacher, Eloise Dedham. This woman could make twice the salary in a public school as she does here. We’re fortunate to have her.”

“Now, Adam, you know it’s a ministry for me. I’m delighted to have you, Sonya,” Eloise said. “The children are always hyper on Monday morning, but once we start our activities, they settle down. Don’t worry about learning everything at once. You can mostly observe today, and I’ll gradually fit you into the schedule.”

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