Chapter 48

I went to the office the next morning – I'd been using the cell phone more than usual during this case, and I'd been in the office more than usual. I was getting to be a regular in the elevator. But I needed to be around when Dr. Bernard called; Marla would pass the word on if she happened to be there, but her schedule is whenever she's there, and I never know when that'll be.

I was sitting in my fancy chair, with my feet up on the corner of the desk, looking out the window when the phone rang. I swung my feet off the desk so I could get to the phone, and saw that the caller ID was the abortion mill. I scooped up the receiver and answered.

"Mr. Carpenter," Dr. Bernard said, "I have decided to adopt your second method of receiving payment. The amount of the bill was a factor. You were right – we do have the money to pay it. But it is still a significant sum. However, the main factor was what you said about tolerance and being open to other views. I like to think that I am open to other views, that I am tolerant of those who disagree with me. And I realized that if I refused to allow my employees to be exposed to your views on the subject, I would be engaging in censorship – which is neither open nor tolerant."

"I could gig you for the passive voice, but that's pretty much a side issue. I applaud your integrity and courage, Dr. Bernard – I honestly didn't think you had it in you, and I'm happy to apologize for misjudging you that way." I picked up a piece of paper that had been lying on my desk all morning. "If tomorrow will be all right, I'd like y'all to be at the Heritage Crisis Pregnancy Counseling Center at 10 AM. It's next door to MJT Christian Fellowship's building, just west of Juan Tabo on Menaul. I picked them 'cause my church provides most of the financing – including the rent on the space they use – so I know more about 'em than the others I might have named."

"Tomorrow will be fine, Mr. Carpenter. And ... thank you for making a painful task somewhat easier."

"Not a problem. You may not know it, but you made working for people who's views I abhor easier than it might have been. I'd say we're even on that score."

After I hung up I looked out the window again. It was a day of thickly scattered clouds, and their shadows were racing south along the face of the Sandias as they fled before the wind. "Well, whaddaya know?" I said to the empty air. "She's got more guts than I thought."

The next morning I met Dr. Bernard and her people in the lobby of the center. I briefly explained that it was my idea that had brought them there, and if they were upset they ought to be mad at me and not at Dr. Bernard. And then I turned things over to the director, a Chicano woman in a wheelchair. I went and leaned on a wall while she introduced herself, and began explaining the purpose of the center. After a few minutes she led the group back into the main area of the building, and I sat down. I'd brought a book with me to read while the tour was underway, and while it wasn't the best thing I'd ever read it wasn't bad.

The tour was scheduled to take about two hours, for they were going to cover first the layout of the place, then the things they did and why, and then cover in detail exactly what pregnancy entails and what abortion does. I knew the tour pretty well – it was a standard tour for potential donors, or donors who wanted to see where their money was going – and I knew that I'd have had to leave it anyway if I'd followed along. I'd taken it, with Cecelia, when the church had proposed funding the ministry, and had found it necessary to rush out of the room and vomit when they began describing exactly what a D&C abortion does. I can look on the bodies of murder victims, with blood and brains and entrails scattered around, and it doesn't bother me. Hearing what happens to the baby wrecked my appetite and digestion for a couple of days.

Eventually the group came back out. I noticed that a couple of the abortion mill's employees looked pale, and another looked like she'd been crying. That's not an uncommon reaction when someone who's been politically pro-abortion comes face to face with what the practice does to the children and the mothers involved. Of course shock and disbelief and horror and sorrow and rage aren't universal reactions, but there are enough people who just don't know what abortion involves that I've seen it more than once.

Davey came out last, after everyone else had left. She saw me, and came and sat down in a chair beside me. She rested her forearms on her knees and didn't say anything for a minute, and I realized she was close to tears herself.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"What if I'd done that to Ernie?"

I nodded. Having a son she loved had helped her realize that an aborted "fetus" is no less human than the child she'd borne. "You didn't. You let him live, and though I've just met him the one time, he seems like a wonderful kid."

"He is. But what if I'd decided that my career was more important? What if I'd decided that it just wasn't the right time to have a child? What if Joseph hadn't wanted to start a family yet?"