A Child Shall Lead Them

Chapter Four

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and the golden August sun was flooding the Rowlands’ house with shimmering light and warmth. An old-time movie was playing on the big-screen TV and a half-eaten bag of microwave popcorn lay on the family room floor where Brianna and Marnie were ensconced, practicing Marnie’s breathing exercises. Ruggs crouched between them, panting, too, his furry chest heaving.

“Hooo-hooo-heee!” Marnie puffed, while Ruggs licked his chops, dangled his tongue, and bobbed his head, huffing like a trooper.

Marnie laughed. “Ruggs has this breathing thing down better than we do.”

Brianna rubbed the shaggy dog’s ears, laughing, too. “This old boy always was good at wheezing, but not much else.”

“And he doesn’t even have to go through labor,” Marnie exclaimed, sitting back in her loose dungarees and patting her ample middle. “Oh, man, these Braxton-Hicks contractions are getting bad. Can you believe? I’ve got just one month left to get this Lamaze thing right.”

“You’re doing fine,” Bree assured her as she reached for the popcorn.

And it was true. In the two months since Marnie had come to stay, she had blossomed in every way—physically, of course, as her pregnancy advanced, but also emotionally and spiritually. She wasn’t the same edgy, brooding girl who had first come to the counseling center seeking a place of refuge. Now she was a cheerful, welcome member of the Rowlands’ household, eagerly entering into family activities, helping Brianna’s father in his home office, attending church services, and whispering excitedly whenever Reverend Rowlands used some of her research in his sermons.

Marnie was still chuckling as Ruggs edged over beside her, panting heavily. He nudged her hand with his wet nose, seeking another ear massage. Marnie pulled the big hairy oaf into her arms and gave him a bear hug. “You silly old dog! I should make you my coach. Wouldn’t you give the doctors a run for their money in the delivery room!”

“No way,” said Bree, scooping up a handful of fluffy popcorn kernels. “I’m your one and only coach.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Marnie’s expression grew serious and her blue eyes glistened. “I don’t know how I could get through this without you, Bree.”

“You don’t have to. I’m with you all the way.” After a pause, Brianna added, “And you have the Lord, too, you know.”

Marnie ran her fingers through her long chestnut hair, her countenance darkening. “Do I?”

Bree nodded. “If you ask Him, He’ll be there for you. He loves you, Marnie.”

Marnie lowered her gaze, absently rubbing Ruggs’s floppy ears. “I’m not like you and your family, Bree, always doing the right thing.” Her voice was quiet, tentative. “Being religious comes naturally to all of you.”

Bree let out a whoop. “Is that how you see us? You haven’t been looking closely. We have our problems, our faults, our squabbles. We make mistakes. We don’t always see eye to eye.”

“But you have your faith. I see it in everything you do.”

“And you can have that, too, Marnie.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not good enough. Look at me, the way I’ve messed up my life. Pregnant, alone, running from my family. What would God want with a loser like me?”

Bree put the popcorn bag aside and scooted closer to Marnie. Gently she squeezed her shoulder. “If you’ve been listening to my dad’s sermons, you know God doesn’t accept us because of how good we are. None of us, no matter how hard we try, can ever measure up to God’s glory.”

“I know that, but…”

“Then you know the rest of the story, too. God loved us so much He sent His Son to die for us. Jesus paid for our sins with His own life so we could have fellowship with God. All we have to do is accept His gift. Invite Christ into our lives.”

“I want to,” Marnie conceded, “but it seems…too easy.”

“It is easy,” said Bree. “Anyone…everyone can do it, no matter how bad they’ve been in the past, no matter how many mistakes they’ve made. Christ can wash away their sins and make them clean, as if they’d never sinned. Sometimes, when I think about it, I get excited just imagining how much God must love us to do what He does for us. Think of it, Marnie. When we trust Him, God accepts us as His own precious children.”

Marnie’s fingers still kneaded the fur around Ruggs’s ears. “It sounds way cool, Bree. But my own parents would disown me for messing up. So how can I expect God not to condemn me?”

“Because God says He will remember our sins no more, and God doesn’t lie.” Bree smoothed Marnie’s long, dark hair.

In these two short months she had come to love Marnie like a sister. Somehow she had to make the road ahead easier for her. “Believe me, Marnie, placing your faith in God and walking with Him day by day is the most amazing experience you can have on this earth. Think of it. Feeling cherished and loved by the God of the universe. Nothing else even comes close to that.”

Marnie sat quietly for a long while, rocking, one hand on her rounded belly, the other smoothing Ruggs’s fur. Her lower lip trembled. Finally she looked up with bright, tearful eyes and said, “Help me, Bree. Help me pray and say the right words, so I can know God the way you do.”

On Monday afternoon, the last week of August, Marnie asked Bree if she could borrow her car for a couple of hours to take care of an important personal matter. Bree agreed, nearly dying of curiosity, but as she handed Marnie the keys she refrained from asking questions. If Marnie wanted her to know her business, she would tell her when the time was right.

The time was right that very evening. After dinner, while Brianna’s father retired to his study and Frannie escaped to the sunroom to work on her latest sculpture, Marnie and Bree cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. They worked in a companionable silence for a while. Then Marnie broke the stillness.

“Bree, I got a favor to ask.”

Bree kept working. “A favor? Sure, what is it?”

“It’s a big one.”

Bree stopped and looked at Marnie. She didn’t like the seriousness in her tone. Something was wrong. “How big a favor are we talking about?”

“The biggest,” said Marnie with a little catch in her voice. “I…I want you to keep my baby.”

Brianna stared dumbfounded at Marnie. Surely she hadn’t heard right—and yet from the poignant, sad-hopeful look on Marnie’s face, Bree knew she had. “Keep your baby?”

Marnie nodded, sudden tears rolling from her eyes. “Please, Bree, say you will! I’ll owe you forever.”

Bree wiped her hands and sat down at the table. “Why me?”

Marnie sat across from her and leaned forward with a fierce urgency. “Because you care about me…and I know you would love my baby.”

“I already do, but…” Bree shook her head, her thoughts reeling. “Look at me. I’m a single career woman with a full-time job, and not a husband in sight. And babies…I don’t know the first thing about them. You want your baby to have a real family, parents who would be devoted to her, a father and a mother.”

“That’s what I thought at first. But now I know your family is just what my baby needs. You all love each other so much. You don’t put each other down. Your house is great—the happiest place I’ve ever known.”

“I-I’m glad you’ve been happy here,” Bree stammered. “We all want to help out and be here for you. But that doesn’t mean this is the place for your baby.”

“But it is, Bree!” Marnie brushed awkwardly at a tear. She was about to become a mother, and she herself looked like a lost child, a forlorn little waif, her tousled dark hair framing her desolate face, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “This is totally the place for my baby. I can’t take her home. I can’t let my family know about her. Don’t you get it? Once she’s born, I can’t ever see my baby again. But giving her away to strangers…I just can’t do it.”

“Then don’t, Marnie. Keep your baby. Take her home.”

“No way, Bree. If my folks got hold of her, they’d make her feel as bad about herself as I’ve always felt. But if you took her, I’d know she was happy. I could picture her here in your house, surrounded by love. You’d teach her about God’s love, too. Knowing she had you, I could let her go.”

Bree rubbed at a spot on the polished oak table. Somehow she had to make Marnie see how impossible her request was. But nothing she could say would dissuade Marnie while she was in such an agitated state. Maybe it was best to drop the subject for now. In a day or two Marnie would come to her senses.

“You don’t think I mean it, do you,” Marnie challenged.

“I think you’re feeling a little emotional right now, but when you’ve had time to think things through—”

“I won’t change my mind.” Marnie stood up. “I’ll prove how serious I am.” She strode out of the kitchen, and Bree heard her hurried steps on the stairs. A minute later she was back. She slapped several official-looking documents on the table.

Bree stared blankly at the forms, not really seeing them. “What are these?”

Marnie sat back down and said solemnly, “They’re legal papers. It’s official. I’m relinquishing my parental rights…and making you my baby’s temporary legal guardian. Later you can file a petition to adopt her.”

Bree stared incredulously at Marnie. “What have you done?”

Marnie smoothed out the papers. “I…I saw your father’s attorney, Martin Cohen. Now he’s my attorney, too.”

“But how?”

“I got his name from your dad. I figured he must be a good person. Someone who could help me. So I phoned him and told him what I wanted to do, and he drew up the papers. I met with him today to sign them.”

“But how did you know how to go about it?”

Marnie smiled wanly. “You forget. My brother is a lawyer. I’m not my brother’s sister for nothing. I learned a lot from him, just listening and paying attention. I want all my bases covered. I even had Mr. Cohen contact Sam, my baby’s father. Sam signed off his rights, too, so it’s all settled, Bree.”

“No, it isn’t!” Brianna exclaimed, pushing the papers back at Marnie. “You can’t do this!”

“I’ve already done it.” Marnie sat with her arms wrapped protectively around her enormous middle. She looked so forlorn and vulnerable, and yet absolutely determined. “The papers are legal, Bree. Sam and I already signed them. I’ve designated you to be my baby’s guardian. If you’ll accept her, she’s yours.”

Brianna shook her head, dazed. She felt like the fabled Alice at the Mad Hatter’s tea party. The moment struck her as illogical, preposterous. “I can’t take your baby, Marnie.”

Marnie scooped up the papers and held them to her breast. She looked crestfallen. “You don’t have to decide now. There’s still time. Just think about it.”

“I can’t promise anything…”

Marnie’s eyes were searing, desolate. “If you can’t keep her, at least help me find a loving family to adopt her.”

Bree nodded, her relief tinged with guilt. “Yes, of course, I’ll be glad to do that. Don’t worry, Marnie. We’ll find the right family for your baby.”

There didn’t seem to be much else to say after that. Marnie was clearly disappointed by Bree’s attitude, but what could Brianna do? What could she say? She was certainly in no position to raise someone else’s child.

They both went to bed early, Marnie complaining of mounting discomfort and exhaustion. Bree had a feeling the brooding girl just wanted to be alone to nurse her disappointment.

Sometime in the night Brianna heard a knock on her door. She sat bolt upright in bed and peered through the darkness as the door creaked open and Marnie peeked inside. “Bree, something’s wrong,” she said with alarm. “Something weird’s happening. I went to the bathroom and there was a gush of water. I…I think my baby’s coming.”

Bree threw back her covers and jumped out of bed. “Get dressed. I’ll wake my dad. He’ll drive us to the hospital.”

By the time Marnie was checked into her hospital room, it was nearly 5:00 a.m. Her contractions were coming five minutes apart.

“It’s too soon,” Marnie lamented as she paced the floor in her shapeless maternity gown, massaging her distended abdomen. “My baby’s not due for another month.”

The nurse, a lean, bony woman with short, gray hair, jotted something on Marnie’s chart. “Your baby’s eager to make his appearance, dear. But don’t worry. He has a good, strong heartbeat. Try to relax. You’re both going to do fine.”

Marnie kept pacing. “How long will it be?”

“Could be hours yet. But walking will help your labor progress. Dr. Packard will be in to check you shortly. And I’ll be back from time to time to monitor your contractions. Meanwhile, remember, no food, no water. Just ice chips.”

The next few hours crept by with an exhausting tedium. Bree finally sent her father home to catch a few winks of sleep. But she stayed by Marnie’s side, timing her contractions, massaging her shoulders and back, and walking the floor with her in a slow, strolling saunter—the awkward, agonizing dance of the laboring mother. When the contractions came, Bree held Marnie up, their arms entwined as they went through their paces. When the pains got too bad, she helped Marnie climb into the large hospital bed and reminded her to practice her breathing exercises. Hoo-hoo-hee! Hoo-hoo-hee!

At about 10:00 a.m., Dr. Packard announced that Marnie was dilated to nine centimeters and in transition. Two attendants helped her onto the gurney and wheeled her into the delivery room, while Brianna slipped a sterile gown over her clothes. With pounding heart, she entered the stark gray room with its pale moons of light.

“I’m so glad you’re with me,” Marnie whispered through clenched teeth as she gripped Bree’s hand. She was trembling, her hand cold as ice, her face and hair damp with perspiration. “Help me, okay? I’m not doing so well with the breathing.”

“I’m right here.” Brianna positioned herself by Marnie’s head. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this together.”

Marnie tensed. “Oh no, I’ve got to push!”

“It’s okay,” Dr. Packard assured her. “On the next contraction, give it all you’ve got.”

After pushing through several contractions, Marnie lay back, panting, exhausted, tears coursing down her cheeks. “I can’t do it. I just can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” said Dr. Packard. “Rest a minute, then we’ll try again.”

“I’m too tired.”

Brianna stroked Marnie’s forehead, gently smoothing back the damp tendrils of hair. “You’re doing great, Marnie. Almost there. Don’t give up.”

Dr. Packard moved in closer, working deftly, one hand pressing Marnie’s abdomen. “Okay, young lady, here we go. Push! That’s it. More. Come on. You can do it! Good, good, good! You’ve got it! The baby’s head is crowning. Okay, relax, take a deep cleansing breath, and then one more good push should do it.”

Marnie’s face turned red with pushing. She made a low, guttural sound and squeezed Bree’s hand until Bree winced with pain.

Suddenly a baby’s choking, gurgling, high-pitched squall filled the room. As a nurse suctioned the infant’s mouth and nose, Dr. Packard bent forward, his brown eyes crinkling above his surgical mask. “You’ve done the hard part, Marnie. We have the head. Now push that baby out.”

On the next contraction the baby’s shiny body slipped out effortlessly. The child raged in the doctor’s sturdy hands—the most beautiful music Brianna had ever heard—followed closely by Marnie’s laughter. “I did it, Bree. What a hoot! My baby! Look, my baby!”

“It’s a girl! She’s a little one, but she wants the whole world to know she’s here.” Dr. Packard placed the slick, squirming infant on Marnie’s chest and proceeded to cut the umbilical cord. Both Marnie and Bree stared transfixed at the bawling baby.

Marnie wept. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she, Bree?”

Suddenly Brianna was laughing and crying, too. “She’s a little angel. Absolutely perfect!”

The baby was more than perfect. She was like a miracle. Tiny, yet plump and pink, with round, red cheeks and silky blonde hair on the top of her adorable head. And, flailing her taut little arms and legs, she was bursting with marvelous energy and life.

“I’m calling her Charity,” said Marnie breathlessly. “Because I want her life to be filled with love.”

“It will be,” said Bree. “Who could help but love her?”

The baby began to gasp and sputter.

“Time to weigh her in, warm her up and get her in her Isolette,” said Dr. Packard.

A nurse swept the infant up in her arms and took her to a table across the room.

Marnie leaned up on her elbows, her face pale, her blue eyes blazing. “Where are you taking my baby? Is she okay?”

Dr. Packard placed a soothing hand on Marnie’s arm. “She’s small and may need some extra attention. As a precaution, we’ll put her in an Isolette and send her to the intensive care nursery, where the pediatrician can examine her.”

Moments later, as an attendant wheeled the portable crib out of the room, Marnie looked urgently at Brianna. “Go with her. I don’t want my baby being alone. Stay with her. Watch over her.”

Bree hesitated. “I can’t leave you yet, Marnie.”

“Yes, please, go! Make sure my baby’s okay.”

Dr. Packard nodded. “Go ahead. We shouldn’t be much longer.”

Brianna felt an odd reluctance to go—but Marnie had insisted, so what else was she to do? She leaned over, caressed Marnie’s face and kissed her cheek. She drew back, startled. Marnie’s skin felt strangely clammy, her forehead feverish. Her face was pallid, her eyes glazed. “Are you okay, Marnie?”

“Never better,” Marnie mumbled thickly, her eyelids heavy.

“I love you,” Bree whispered. Gently she squeezed Marnie’s hand, then crossed the room to the door.

“Tell Charity…her mommy loves her,” Marnie murmured with a weary smile. Her voice was faint, her breathing labored. “Tell her…”

Dr. Packard broke in. “Marnie, I need another push. I’m delivering the placenta. That’s a girl. We’re almost done.”

Brianna lingered by the door, watching, as Marnie laid her head back and closed her eyes. She was trembling so fiercely that her teeth chattered. “I don’t feel well,” she whispered. “My chest hurts. And I’m so cold.”

“Her pulse is rapid,” warned the nurse.

Dr. Packard’s voice erupted in a strangled bark. “Confound it! She’s hemorrhaging!” He sprang into action, kneading Marnie’s abdomen as another nurse joined them. “Massage the uterus! Come on! Vigorously! Don’t stop!”

“It’s not helping, Doctor.”

“Try bimanual compression!” Dr. Packard muttered something under his breath about the placenta separating prematurely. His voice was urgent, shrill. “She’ll need a transfusion!”

“Doctor, she’s going into shock.”

“Get a cardiologist in here! We need help!”

“Doctor, what’s wrong?” Brianna broke away from the door and crossed the room to Marnie. “Is she okay?”

Dr. Packard looked at Brianna as if he had forgotten she was there. His face ignited with vexation. “Get her out of here! Now!”

Before Brianna could protest, an attendant—a tall young man in green scrubs—swiftly ushered her out the door and pointed the way to the critical care nursery.

Bree held her ground, her gaze riveted on the closed double doors of the delivery room. “What about Marnie? Will she be all right?”

“They’re doing all they can.” The attendant looked as shaken as she. “Go look after the baby,” he said miserably, as if he already knew the news would be bad. “That’s what she wanted, isn’t it?”

Brianna nodded, her thoughts reeling. “I’ve got to call my father. He needs to be here.” They were all going to need him…his presence, his comfort, his prayers.

The baby was in trouble. Marnie was in trouble. And Brianna couldn’t imagine losing either one of them.

Chapter Five

“I’m sorry, Miss Rowlands. We did everything we could.” Dr. Packard’s small dark eyes glistened starkly in his lean, blanched face as one corner of his mouth twitched. He was still wearing his surgical greens, but he seemed slighter—his frame more diminutive, his manner less commanding—than Brianna had perceived him during surgery an hour ago. It struck her suddenly that he was as shocked and unnerved as she.

“Marnie’s…dead?” Bree repeated numbly, as if she might somehow prompt a different response. It couldn’t be! Baby Charity was hardly more than an hour old, and already she had lost her mommy. Bree swayed, the air sucked from her lungs, the fluorescent lights glaring against her rising tears. How could her dear Marnie, the girl she had nurtured and laughed with and loved as a sister, be gone so swiftly, so senselessly?

“We’ll need to contact her next-of-kin,” Dr. Packard was saying. “I understand she was living in your home. Perhaps the call would be less painful coming from you or Reverend Rowlands. Would he consider making a personal call on the family?”