Child of Her Heart

“Three.”

The first time Bryon had seen her, he’d said, “Gee, you’re beautiful. Where have you been all my life?” She had been so proud that Bryon had chosen her. Was that why she had always done what he’d wanted her to? Come to think of it, she had never refused to do anything he’d asked until he had demanded she have an abortion. Maybe Bryon wasn’t as perfect as she’d thought Was she only a possession to him? Was he kind only when he had his own way? But she refused to believe it, for to concede that Bryon’s character contained many flaws would reflect on her own judgment.

“Four.”

The trees above her were beginning to display colored foliage. She had always liked fall; too bad she would miss all of the beauty.

“Five.”

Would Bryon feel sorry when he heard the news? Would he realize he had caused her death? Maybe she should have left him a note.

“Six.”

I should have written my parents, but there’s no time. If I don’t do this now, I might lose my nerve.

“Seven.”

The pavement looked inviting. I must remember to fall on my head. Sonya envisioned that her landing would have the sensation of settling into a water bed.

“Eight.”

When I awaken, where will I be? That was a sobering thought, but Sonya counted on.

“Nine.”

She released her hold on the brick wall and leaned forward, but she staggered back when the ringing telephone shattered the stillness.

What am I doing on this window ledge? she thought frantically. When the telephone continued to ring, she scampered back inside the living room.

Grasping the receiver as if it were a lifeline, she said breathlessly, “Hello.”

A resonant voice answered her. “This is Adam Benson. Daniel Massie gave me your name. When would it be convenient for my wife and me to call on you?”

“Could you come right now?” Sonya gasped. “I’m desperate. I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I’m alone anymore. I need help. Please come right away.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_b7c11159-4528-5143-839d-df2f201f660c)

By the time Adam Benson rang her doorbell, Sonya shook like a woman with the palsy. Her throat was dry, and when she opened the door she seized the man’s arm.

“I’m Adam Benson, and this is my wife, Marie.” His brown eyes gleamed with compassion, and he murmured, “My dear, trust us.”

Marie Benson put an arm around Sonya and led her to the couch.

Adam said to his wife, “Make some tea, and see if you can find something for her to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Sonya murmured between stiff lips. Marie disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and Sonya heard her opening cabinet doors as if she were at home.

“I almost did a terrible thing,” Sonya confided to Adam. “When the telephone rang, I was standing on the window ledge ready to jump to my death. How did you know I needed help at that exact moment?”

“You’ve been on my mind since Daniel suggested you needed some counseling. This evening when I was praying, I felt an overwhelming urge to telephone you. Daniel has also been praying for you.”

“I can’t believe I’d do such a thing. It was almost as if I were in a trance. I knew what was going on, but I seemed to be standing outside my body watching the whole thing.”

“It’s quite common for a person who’s been driven to the depths of despair to have suicidal tendencies.”

Marie returned with a pot of tea and some sandwiches, and the aroma of the tea nauseated Sonya. She clutched her stomach.

“I can’t eat anything,” she insisted.

“But you must eat, Sonya, and especially drink the tea. Adam and I will eat with you. We didn’t take time for dinner.”

“I’ve not eaten much for several weeks. My stomach feels as if it’s been tied in knots. I hate to eat alone.”

Marie sat beside Sonya and patted her hand. “Try to relax. You don’t have to bear your burden alone anymore. We’re here to help you.”

The Bensons were middle-aged. Adam was a short, slender man, who wore brown-rimmed glasses. His wife tended to plumpness, and she had dark hair sprinkled with gray. Her gray eyes glistened with warmth and friendliness; her voice was soft and cheerful.

Nibbling on sandwiches, the Bensons talked to each other, discussing ordinary happenings around Omaha—the ball games and the fall and winter concerts planned by the fine arts department at the university. Sonya occasionally added a comment to their upbeat words. They didn’t refer to her problem, and to her surprise, in a short while she realized that she had eaten a whole sandwich and her tea was gone. She poured another cup of tea and settled back on the sofa feeling better than she had for a month.

When the food was gone, Adam said, “Sonya, we’re here to help you, not interfere in your affairs. If you want to tell us about your situation, we’re ready to listen.”

“What did Mr. Massie tell you?”

“Only that you had some problems, and that you might contact me.”

“My husband has left me,” and, having had the courage to admit that, Sonya launched into the experiences of the past months. She talked for more than an hour, often breaking into sobs and occasionally walking around the room twisting her hands. Marie finally pulled her gently to the sofa and sat holding Sonya’s hands tightly as she talked. When she faltered, Adam asked a brief question to encourage her to continue.

“What worries me,” Sonya said as she finished, “is what did I do wrong? Why did this happen to me? I’ve tried to be a good wife. I’ve been faithful to my husband. Why did this happen to me?”

“I know this is small comfort to you,” Adam said, “but there are thousands of young women in this country who have suffered a similar fate. And I don’t think you have done anything wrong. Your husband is obviously a selfish man without any consideration for others.”

“That isn’t true!” Sonya hurried to defend him. “He’s always been considerate of me until this incident. It’s out of character for him to behave like this.”

“Then let’s just say that your husband has a problem. A man who walks out on his responsibilities should seek help himself.”

“I doubt he would see it that way,” Sonya said, realizing that her two statements about Bryon were inconsistent. “But I have been wondering if there is something in Bryon’s past that I don’t know about, some incident that would cause him to resent my bearing a child. I can hardly believe it, for his family seems well adjusted and live a normal life-style, and they are prosperous. I feel sure that he wouldn’t see any need for change in himself.”

“Then if he won’t seek counseling, either jointly or alone, all we can do is work with your situation. You must believe that you’re going to surmount all these difficulties and come out of this a stronger woman than you’ve been before.”

“I don’t see how I can make it.” Sonya shook her head. “I’ve looked for a job with no luck. I must move out of this apartment soon, and my money is dwindling rapidly.”

“Please believe me—you’re going to make it all right. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss plans for your future. Our immediate problem is to bring you safely through the night”

“I’ll stay with her,” Marie said.

“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that. I’ll be all right.”

“It’s quite likely you will have other despairing moments as you struggle to deny what has happened. If you won’t allow Marie to stay, then I’ll give you two telephone numbers. There are counselors at these phones around-the-clock ready to listen, and whenever you feel that life is more than you can handle, telephone them. They’ll listen or give advice, whichever you need most.”