Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

When she finally turned off the light, Sonya wished for the comfort of someone to talk to…

But without a telephone, she was unable to call anyone. No, she was on her own now—either to succeed or to fail. But I’m not on my own, and the thought brought her upright in bed. She turned on the light and rushed over to the luggage piled in the corner where she found the white Bible.

“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 and read aloud, “’When I said my foot slippeth; thy mercy, O Lord, held me up.’”

IRENE BRAND

This prolific and popular author of both contemporary and historical inspirational fiction is a native of West Virginia, where she has lived all of her life. She began writing professionally in 1977, after completing a master’s degree in history at Marshall University. Irene taught in secondary public schools for twenty-three years, but retired in 1989 to devote herself full-time to her writing.

After a long career of publishing magazine articles and devotional materials, in 1984 her first novel was published by Thomas Nelson. Since that time, Irene has published fourteen contemporary and historical novels and three nonfiction titles with publishers such as Zondervan, Fleming Revell and Barbour Books.

Extensive travels with her husband, Rod, to forty-nine of the United States and twenty-four foreign countries have inspired much of her writing. Through her writing, Irene believes she has been helpful to others and is grateful to the many readers who have written to say that her truly inspiring stories and compelling portrayals of characters of strong faith have made a positive impression on their lives.

Child of Her Heart
Irene Brand

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And we know that all things work together for the good to them that love God, to them who are the called, according to His purpose.

—Romans 8:28 (KJV)

Chapter One

If you get burned, you’ll have to suffer alone with the blister!

The thought flashed unbidden into Sonya Dixon’s mind as she paced the floor of her third-story apartment. With her marriage crumbling around her, why would she remember a remark her father had made over two years ago? She had paid scant attention to what he had said then, and she hadn’t thought of the words since, for she had loved Bryon so much it hadn’t occurred to her that the future could hold any problems.

Sonya paused at the double windows, pulled the heavy draperies and watched as darkness settled over Omaha. She opened one of the windows and shivered at the hint of frost in the air. In the distance she heard a school band playing at a football game. Seemed like only yesterday she had changed the clocks to daylight saving time, looking forward to a long summer of fun, but the wonderful season had ended in a nightmare of misery and frustration.

You might as well stop dawdling and deal with that letter, Sonya’s conscience prodded, but she stared out the window until the streetlights came on and the scent of exhaust fumes stung her nostrils. The room behind her was unlit, but when she turned, the white envelope lying on the floor made a little island in the darkness.

She picked up the letter, flipped on a light, kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the couch.

“It’s only a joke, so why should I let it upset me?” she muttered. She crushed the letter in her hand, refusing to read it again. When the telephone rang, Sonya threw the wadded paper across the room and, with a smile, lifted the receiver.

“Okay, Bryon, it was a good joke, but I didn’t appreciate it much,” she said immediately.

“Sonya?” The voice on the line wasn’t Bryon’s. “Oh, Mother.” Sonya’s smile faded and disappointment drenched her spirit.

“What was that all about?” Marilyn Sizemore asked. “What joke has Bryon played on you?”

“Only a little argument between us, Mother. I’ll tell you about it sometime. What’s new with you?”

“What’s new with us?” she gasped. “You write and tell us we’re going to become grandparents again, and then ask, ‘What’s new?’ What could be greater news than that? Are you feeling all right?”

“Sure, I’m great. I’ve been to a doctor, and he’s says I’m right on schedule. So don’t worry about me.”

“How’s Bryon? Is he excited?”

“He’s a little slow to catch on to the idea,” Sonya said dryly. “How are Dad and the rest of the family?”

“Everything is fine here.” Her mother rambled on about news of the family in Ohio, and Sonya made the proper responses when her mother paused.

“Say, Mother, I’m expecting a call from Bryon, so maybe we shouldn’t talk any longer.”

“Is he away?”

“Yes, on a business trip.”

“But you always go with him. Are you sure you’re all right, or are you keeping something from me?”

With a laugh, Sonya tried to assure her mother. “You’re borrowing trouble. I told you, I’m fine.”

“I want to be there for the birth. You say the baby is due in March?”

“Yes, around the first of the month. Goodbye, Mother. Thanks for calling.”

Sonya terminated the conversation with relief. Bryon was sure to telephone in a few minutes, and she wanted the line open.

While she waited for the phone to ring again, Sonya surveyed her surroundings. Plush brown sectional furniture rested on a beige carpet. The draperies picked up both the brown and beige tones of the other furnishings. A superscreen television stood in one corner of the room with two reclining chairs arranged around it Bryon’s golf and bowling trophies dominated the mantelpiece. Most of the wall hangings had been gifts from Bryon’s parents, as were the two antique oriental vases on the end tables. Mrs. Dixon had found the vases in China when they had stopped there on their round-the-world tour last year.

“Be careful of these, Sonya,” her mother-in-law cautioned. “If Tom knew what I paid for them, he would cancel my credit cards.”

With trembling hands Sonya lifted a framed portrait standing beside one of the vases. Their wedding picture! All of her friends had been envious because she had been the one Bryon had chosen—he was considered the catch of the university campus.

It was not only the splendor of his tall, well-muscled body that made Bryon attractive, but he was handsome, as well. His eyes and hair were brown, his teeth straight and startlingly white, and he possessed a personal magnetism that had captivated Sonya at their first meeting.

Sonya’s blond beauty marked a vivid contrast to Bryon, although she, too, was rather tall with a slender body. In the picture her large blue eyes gleamed soft and gentle and happy. Long blond hair hung loosely over her shoulders. Sonya fingered the short curls covering her head now and wished she had never complied with Bryon’s wishes that she cut her hair.

When the phone hadn’t rung by ten o’clock, Sonya prepared a vegetable salad and turkey sandwich and took them to the living room. She placed the food on a snack tray and went back for a cup of hot tea. She avoided the dining area, although she should have been accustomed to eating alone, after the past six weeks.

Sonya turned on the television to watch the news while she ate. She had no interest in what was happening outside her own walls, but she needed to hear the sound of a human voice.

While she watched the numerous commercials leading up to the newscast, Sonya couldn’t forget the crushed letter lying beside the couch.

“Good evening,” the anchorwoman’s voice entered the room. Sonya listened as the anchorwoman reported the world’s events, yet Sonya’s thoughts kept returning to the crisis in her own life.

The doorbell rang, and Sonya eagerly flipped off the television. Had Bryon forgotten his key? She ran to the door and jerked it open, kicking the letter to one side as she did so.

“Bryon, what do you think—” Sonya began, but the words died in her mouth. “Oh, hello, Leta, I thought Bryon had forgotten his key again.”

Sonya didn’t want to be rude to her neighbor, who owned the apartment building and lived across the hall, but could she possibly listen to Leta’s problems tonight?

“Are you busy, Sonya?” Leta Barton’s dark eyes wore a woebegone expression, and Sonya couldn’t turn her away.

“No, come on in. I’m waiting on a call from Bryon.”

“I thought he was due home yesterday.”

“I thought so, too, but apparently I was mistaken in the date. Do you want a sandwich or some tea? I’m having a late dinner tonight.”

“I’m too mad to eat, but I’ll take some tea.”

Sonya brought a cup and the pot of tea and placed them on the table in front of Leta. “Help yourself.” Sonya sat down opposite her friend, who had curled her petite frame into a roomy chair. Leta looked lovely as usual, Sonya noticed, with her coffee-brown skin and dark hair complemented by the rust and gold hues of her stylish autumn dress.

“That woman has been bothering me again,” Leta said.

In the two years they had lived beside Leta, her neighbor had gone through a second divorce, and Sonya had been obliged to hear a blow-by-blow description of each shattering episode.

“She follows me around. Everywhere I go, she’s there. If she wants my ex, she’s welcome to him, but I want her to leave me alone.”

Sonya had often given Leta advice on how to deal with her marital affairs, but tonight any suggestions she might offer seemed almost laughable.

“I’m sorry you’re having these problems, Leta, but I don’t know what you can do about it.”

“I’m going to protect myself—that’s what. I’ll go to the police and get a court order of protection, and if she comes near me again, she’ll have a court official to deal with. She stole my man, and now she’s trying to drive me crazy.” Her black eyes sparkled, and she poured another cup of tea.

Sonya knew Leta wasn’t serious. She had listened to her vent her frustrations before.

“Surely she must have some reason for her behavior.”

“She’s jealous because the judge awarded me a huge settlement so I can live in this luxury apartment She thought when she got my husband, she would get all of his money, but my lawyer took care of that. With these apartments, I’m set for life.” Leta laughed delightedly.

“Then if you’re fixed for life,” Sonya advised, “you shouldn’t bother about her. If you just ignore her, maybe she’ll leave you alone.”

Leta took a swig of tea and stood up. “Oh, I’d never make trouble for her. My ex-husband will bring her enough grief, believe me. But it does help me to let off steam talking that way. Thanks for listening.” As she started toward the door, Leta saw the crumpled letter. She stooped to pick it up and handed it to Sonya.

“You’d better put that in the wastepaper basket. You know how touchy Bryon is about a messy apartment.”

The letter felt like a hot potato, and Sonya had the urge to throw it from her again. She locked the door behind Leta, and with the paper still in her hand, she paced the floor for several minutes. The smell of tea and salad dressing was strong in the room, so she stuck the paper in her pocket, took the dishes to the kitchen and placed them in the dishwasher.

Maybe I was mistaken. Perhaps it didn’t say what I thought it did. She took the sheet from her pocket and straightened it.

Dear Sonya,

I want out! Since you’re so delighted with the little cherub, you can have it all to yourself. I won’t be coming back. Pack my clothes, and I’ll notify you where to send them. It was fun while it lasted.

Bryon

Again she thought of her dad’s remark about the blister. Had he realized even then that Bryon would be an unstable husband? Her parents had objected to her marriage, but she had thought it was because she had left college at the end of her sophmore year to marry Bryon, who was going to take her to Nebraska to live.

When they had voiced their concern to Bryon, he’d said, “I’ll send her to college. The Omaha branch of the University of Nebraska is only a few miles from where I’ll be working. No problem—she’ll get her education.”

Bryon had soon forgotten that promise, and because he had been determined to have her with him all of the time, she hadn’t argued about it. She couldn’t complain about his attention to her during their two years of marriage. He’d rented this luxurious apartment, where he often entertained business associates and their wives. He needed a hostess for those affairs, and Sonya couldn’t do that and go to college. At times Sonya had marveled at the ease with which she’d given up her dreams of graduation and becoming a social worker simply because Bryon had asked her to do so. Actually, Sonya had been extremely flattered that Bryon had loved her so much he hadn’t wanted her out of his sight, but in light of Bryon’s behavior the past few weeks, she had occasionally wondered if Bryon really loved her that intensely, or had he been selfishly thinking of himself, always wanting her at his beck and call. Whenever these thoughts occurred, Sonya had felt guilty and unfaithful. Of course Bryon loved her! He was an ideal husband.

In his position as vice president of a brokerage firm, Bryon traveled frequently, and he wanted Sonya to travel with him. How could she have been so fortunate—a country girl from Ohio having an opportunity to travel to so many large cities and resort areas? They had lived a perfect honeymoon existence until that afternoon in early August when she had come home from the doctor.

She was sure of her pregnancy even before she had consulted the obstetrician, but she hadn’t told Bryon about it. She suspected he might be displeased, but she hadn’t anticipated the depth of his wrath.

He’d been dressing for a dinner party when she’d scurried into the apartment In her excitement, she had forgotten about the engagement.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it. You have only thirty minutes to dress. Where have you been?” He was buttoning his white shirt and poring over his tie selection on the closet door.

Sonya laid aside her purse. “I’ll shower quickly and dress.” It was a relief to put off telling him.

Before she entered the bathroom, Bryon repeated, “Where have you been?”

“To the doctor.”

His hands stopped in the midst of fashioning his tie, and he turned quickly.

“Are you sick?”

Sonya was gladdened by the concern in his voice. Bryon had never talked much about his childhood, but once he had mentioned that when he was in elementary school, his mother had been sick, and he’d been sent away to live with his grandmother for two years. “That was the saddest time of my life,” he had said. Perhaps he was afraid if she became ill, he would be abandoned again, but surely that wasn’t a normal reaction for an adult

“Are you sick?” he repeated.

Sonya couldn’t control the smile that spread across her face. “No…I’m pregnant.”

Abject silence followed her statement. The anger spreading across Bryon’s face took away any desire to talk that Sonya might have had, and Bryon looked as if he had been struck speechless. When he found his voice, Sonya cringed with fear.

“Pregnant,” he shouted, and Sonya feared Leta would hear him. “Why have you done this? I told you to take care of that sort of thing before we married. Why did you allow this to happen? You know I don’t like kids.”

And why didn’t he? He ignored the children of their friends so much that she was often embarrassed by him.

“I’ve used the same type of birth control since we were married, but any doctor will tell you that no method is completely safe,” Sonya said, hastening to defend herself.

“Well, you march yourself right back to that doctor in the morning and have him do something about it.”

“What do you mean?” Sonya asked, and she sat down on the water bed to still her trembling legs, but the sway of the mattress made her dizzy.

“I’ve told you I don’t want kids. Get rid of it”

“You don’t mean an abortion?” Sonya cried.

“Certainly. That’s no problem anymore.”

Sonya’s shock turned to anger. “Forget that, Bryon Dixon,” she said. “You’re as much responsible for this child as I am. You’ll have to learn to like it.” She went to Bryon and put her arms around him, speaking more tenderly. “You might not like kids now, but your own child will be different It might be fun to have a baby.”

He jerked away from her. “Babies stink. They cry. They vomit on you. This apartment would be crowded with toys, a crib and dozens of other things. How can I entertain my friends with a baby here?”

“The Shraders have children, and they give delightful parties.”

He looked at her appraisingly. “But think how you’ll look. Your beauty will be ruined forever. I want a wife to keep me company, not one who sits home breeding.”

Surely he didn’t consider her a possession, like the trophies he so proudly displayed on the living room mantel. Sonya’s pulse raced, and her head throbbed. Bryon couldn’t be saying these things!

He gave his tie a final jerk and bolted out the door without waiting for her.

He hadn’t come home until early morning. It was the first night they had spent apart since their marriage, but certainly not the last one as she soon found out.

Trying to rid her mind of the incident, Sonya laid aside the letter and picked up the evening newspaper. But she could barely skim the headlines because her mind continued to think about Bryon. His behavior during the past weeks had changed completely from their first two years of marriage. He had never before spent long evenings away from home or gone on business trips without her. Now, if he entertained his friends, he did so somewhere else rather than at the apartment. He never mentioned her pregnancy. How could the mere mention of a child cause a man to change so much?

Sonya had ignored his changed attitude. When he was home, she prepared his meals. She looked after his personal needs as she always had. She hadn’t nagged at his long absences. When they talked, she acted as if their relations were normal, even after he started sleeping in the guest bedroom.

Sonya privately nursed her hurt, fully believing that when the baby arrived, Bryon would be happy about it And even with his letter, she still couldn’t believe that he would actually leave her. They had shared such a beautiful love. How could he change so quickly?

If it had been true love, he wouldn’t have changed, her conscience needled.

Sonya didn’t go to bed until after midnight as she tensely awaited a telephone call and listened for the sound of his key in the apartment door. Then she felt his arms around her, and they shared the bliss that she’d missed so much. She gave a glad cry, which awakened her, and she sobbed when she realized that he hadn’t come home—she had been dreaming.

As she struggled out of bed the next morning, she shuddered when she looked in the mirror.

“No wonder he left me,” she moaned.

The combined effect of morning sickness and Bryon’s rejection had caused her to lose weight. As yet, she didn’t outwardly show her pregnancy, but she was only a shadow of the beauty queen that Bryon had pursued. She hadn’t slept well for weeks, and the black circles under her eyes made her appear old and haggard. Even her hair looked listless and drab.

While she sat on the side of the bed waiting for her nausea to lessen, she felt a slight movement in her womb, the first outward sign she’d had that a new life grew within her. She pressed her hand to her stomach. It had been so fleeting, just a fluttery feeling, really. For a moment she thought she’d only imagined it. But no, it had been real. A real baby lived and grew inside her now. The idea was almost overwhelming.

I can’t do much about the weight loss, Sonya thought as she examined her image in the bathroom mirror, but I can at least do something with my hair. I’ll call the beauty salon for an appointment

By the time Sonya returned from the beauty shop, the mail had been delivered, and she looked eagerly through the collection of bills and junk mail hoping for a letter from Bryon saying it was all a mistake. Nothing!

Sonya put the bills in the desk where Bryon would find them and trashed the other items.

Knowing she couldn’t go through another night of suspense, Sonya finally dialed the brokerage firm and asked for Riley Shrader. Riley and his wife, Lola, were close friends.

“Hi, Riley,” she said. “This is Sonya.”

“I didn’t know you were back, Sonya. How did you like San Francisco?”

“Oh, I didn’t go with Bryon this time. That’s the reason I telephoned. Do you know when he’s returning? I looked for him day before yesterday, but I must have been wrong. Has he been delayed?”

A long silence ensued, and Sonya said, “Riley, are you still there?”

“Yes,” Riley answered, and his voice sounded strained. “I was checking to see if I could find Bryon’s schedule. I don’t seem to have it.”

“Then I won’t bother you anymore. Let me know if you learn anything.”

Why had Riley thought she’d gone with Bryon? Had he told his friend that? She had wondered why Lola hadn’t telephoned during the past week. Had Bryon shared his dissatisfaction with the Shraders?

Sonya settled down to another evening of waiting and wondering. Surely Bryon would telephone tonight, if for no other reason than to learn her reaction to his letter.

When the bell rang at eight o’clock, Sonya moved weakly toward the door. This had to be Bryon, but she took the precaution of checking through the peephole. Riley and Lola Shrader stood in the hallway.

“Have you heard from Bryon?” she whispered as she opened the door. “Is there something wrong?”

She swayed on her feet, and Riley led her to the couch.

“Steady, Sonya,” he said. “I’m sure Bryon is all right. We stopped by to check on you.”

“I appreciate it,” Sonya said hoarsely. Her mouth felt dry and hot.

“You don’t look so well,” Lola said. “Are you sick?”

“I’m pregnant,” Sonya admitted. Because of Bryon’s attitude, Sonya had told no one except her parents about the baby. “I’m having the usual morning sickness, and I’m not sleeping well. I’m tired all the time. The doctor says this is normal, and that I’ll feel better soon.”

Riley and Lola were the parents of three children, and Sonya expected them to be happy about her condition, but instead, tears came to Lola’s eyes, and Riley refused to meet Sonya’s gaze.

“What do you know that I don’t?” Sonya asked with bated breath.

“I suppose you have to hear it,” Riley said. “Bryon asked for a transfer to the San Francisco branch, and he starts work in that office tomorrow. He’s been there this week looking for lodging. None of us at the office had any idea that you weren’t with him, until you telephoned today.”

Sweat drenched Sonya’s hands, and she clutched the arms of her chair. She stared at Riley. Was this really happening, or was she dreaming again?

“When did he ask for the transfer?”

“About a month ago. Didn’t you know he was doing this?”

She shook her head, and Lola cried, “But what’s happened? I didn’t think there was any happier couple in Omaha than you two. What went wrong?”

Sonya rose wearily from her chair, picked up Bryon’s letter and handed it to Riley. Lola moved close to him and read the message over his shoulder.

“Bryon mentioned before we were married that he didn’t want any children, and I didn’t care one way or another. He blames me for becoming pregnant, although I haven’t done anything different than we’ve always done. He demanded that I get an abortion, and when I refused, he hasn’t had anything else to do with me. We’ve been living under the same roof, but that’s all.”

“The brute!” Lola said.

“I’ve been patient, thinking that he would change his mind when he got used to the idea, but I never suspected that he would go this far. All day long, I’ve been asking myself if I’ve deluded myself into thinking he loved me, but in spite of my doubts, I can’t give him up.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Riley asked.

“I don’t know what to do myself,” Sonya admitted. “I suppose I’m still in shock. I keep thinking it’s a bad dream.”

“I wish it were, but he’s gone,” Riley said. “He cleaned out his office and took everything from his desk with him.”

“Did he go alone? Has anyone else from Omaha been transferred?”

Riley stared at the toe of his shoe, but he finally said, “No one else has gone.”

He stood and laid a sympathetic hand on Sonya’s shoulder.

“If he doesn’t telephone me, I’ll get in touch with him some way,” Sonya said. “Perhaps you can give me the address and telephone number of the San Francisco branch.” Sonya put her arm around Lola. “I do appreciate having you come by.”

“Would you like me to spend the night with you?” Lola offered as she hugged Sonya tightly.

“No, I’ll be fine.” Sonya forced a smile, but the moment the door closed behind the Shraders, she picked up one of the oriental vases that Bryon’s mother had given them. She hurled it across the room, and when it hit the opposite wall with a crash, fragments shattered all over the carpet.

“Maybe there’s a little Leta in all of us,” she muttered.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, she headed for the guest bedroom. “I’ll pack his clothes for him,” she said, and she jerked shirts and trousers off the hangers, threw them in a heap on the floor and tramped over them. Lifting his ties from the rack, one by one, she cut them in two and tossed the pieces on top of the clothing.

When the last tie was mutilated, Sonya hurled the scissors from her and, sobbing, she collapsed on the bed where he had slept. The scent of his cologne enveloped her, and in her fancy, Bryon lay beside her, holding her in his arms, moving his lips over hers. How can I live without him? How dare he walk off and leave me?

For two days Sonya cried. She didn’t leave the apartment, no one phoned, and the doorbell was silent She didn’t shower; she didn’t eat. She didn’t care much what happened to her. Each day when the mail fell through the slot, she searched it quickly—nothing but bills and junk mail, no word from Bryon.

When she awakened on the fifth day after she had received Bryon’s letter, Sonya stirred with a new determination.

“Even if I don’t care what happens to me, I have a life growing within me. I have a responsibility to it, so I’m going to start fighting. I have to survive.” But in spite of her brave words, Sonya was scared. What if Bryon didn’t come back, and she had to rear the child by herself? For a moment she hated Bryon intensely for worrying her so much, but she swiped the tears from her eyes. Of course, she didn’t hate her husband; she loved him.

Chapter Two

The doorbell rang before Sonya finished her breakfast. Eager to speak to someone, she hurried to the door. Through the peephole, she saw Leta.

“Come in, neighbor. Join me for a cup of coffee.”

“Bryon already gone to work? I don’t want to interfere with his schedule.”

Was there any reason for further secrecy? she asked herself.

“He isn’t here,” Sonya said, heading back to the kitchen. She poured a cup of coffee for Leta and asked, “Do you want some toast, too?”

“No, just the coffee. You look terrible. What’s the matter with you?”

“Bryon has left me.”

Leta strangled on a sip of coffee and stared at her. Did it take something this drastic to shock Leta into silence? Sonya wondered.

“When did that happen?” Leta finally asked.

“He went on a business trip to San Francisco ten days ago, and I’ve learned it’s a permanent move.” She briefly apprised Leta of the events of the past few days.

“You mean he didn’t tell you he was leaving! The dog! Another woman, I suppose?”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Sonya. Surely not! Bryon often laughed about the girls at the office who flirted with him, but he’d never indicated he took any of them seriously.

“No, there’s no other woman. He left because I’m pregnant, and he didn’t like that.”

“My word, Sonya, you do have trouble! At least when my two men walked off, I didn’t have a passel of kids to trouble me. Men often start straying when their wives are pregnant. How far along are you?”

“A bit more than three months.”

“Of course, even if it is another woman, he’ll probably beg to come back after the baby’s born and you regain your good looks.”

“I don’t know what to do, Leta. Bryon took care of all our business affairs, and if he’s gone, I won’t even have an income.” Sonya hadn’t thought of this before, but now it filled her with panic. What would she do for money?

“You need to see a lawyer. Bryon needn’t think he can walk off and take no responsibility for you and that child. Don’t you have any idea about your finances? He always paid his rent with a check, so you have a checking account.”

“His uncle died and left him several thousand dollars a few months back. That’s in a savings account Of course, Bryon makes a big salary, but we spend lots of money, too.” Sonya thought about their affluent tastes. Bryon wouldn’t have anything but the best clothes and furniture. He loved his fancy, foreign car and eating out at the best restaurants in the city.

“I have an electrician coming to do some work, and I have to go,” Leta said, “but I’d advise you to check into your affairs quickly. If he’s the kind of skunk who won’t assume his responsibility as a father, it’s hard to tell what he’ll do.”

“I still think this is just temporary,” Sonya insisted. “He really isn’t the kind of person to act this way.”

“You poor thing! You still love him, don’t you?”

“Of course I love him. When you’ve been in love with someone for three years, you don’t forget it overnight.”

“More the pity for you! If a man mistreats me, I can fall out of love mighty quick. I tell you, see a lawyer. When a man starts to stray, he keeps it up. You’ll be better off without him.”

“I don’t feel that way, Leta, although I may be stupid to still care for him,” she added sadly.

When Leta left, Sonya showered, styled her hair and dressed in brown knit slacks with matching cotton blouse. After applying her makeup carefully, she peered in the mirror.

“I really don’t look too bad now.” No one would suspect by looking at her that she was pregnant, so surely Bryon hadn’t left because of her appearance.

The long day loomed before her. What could she do? She needed milk and bread, so perhaps she should go to the grocery store. She checked her purse—less than ten dollars—that probably wouldn’t be enough, but she wouldn’t need many groceries if Bryon wasn’t coming home.

Their checking account was joint, so she could write a check, even though she didn’t often do that. Since Bryon had been an accountant before he became a stock broker, it had seemed simpler to let him take care of paying bills.

She couldn’t find the checkbook, nor could she find the file in which Bryon stored the statements of their savings account. Sonya’s hands shook, but she still refused to believe the obvious. She searched the desk for an hour, but she couldn’t find any of their financial records. In her purse she found one check that she carried for emergencies. She could buy groceries with that, she supposed, but what if there wasn’t any money in the checking account? They overspent occasionally, causing Bryon to borrow from his father.

Frantic with worry, Sonya left the apartment hurriedly and walked three blocks to the branch bank where Bryon conducted their business. She handed her ID card to the teller.

“I’m Mrs. Bryon Dixon. I’d like to know the balance in our checking and savings accounts, please.”

“Just a moment,” the young woman said. She punched some information into the computer on her desk, and Sonya waited impatiently drumming her fingers on the marble ledge in front of her. The music wafting throughout the bank, intended to be soothing to the customers, rattled on her nerves like a nail drawn across a windowpane.

“There’s a balance of $929.38 in your checking account, but the savings account is closed. One withdrawal closed it two weeks ago.”

“Thank you very much,” Sonya said through lips so stiff she could hardly move them. She stumbled out of the building and paused. Which way do I turn to go home? She wandered around a few minutes and finally stopped an elderly man.

“I’m looking for the Sandhill Apartments. Could you direct me to them, please?”

“Turn north, ma’am. You can see the roof of the building from here.”

Strange she could remember the name of the apartment, but not the location. Was she losing her mind? she wondered as she trudged home.

When the elevator reached the third floor, Sonya ran down the hall to Leta’s apartment. The electrician was still there, but, noting Sonya’s agitation, Leta dismissed him quickly. When the door closed behind the man, Leta asked, “What has happened?”

“Bryon has taken all of the savings, and there’s less than a thousand dollars in checking. I don’t even have a checkbook. What am I going to do?”

“The first thing is to take the money out of that checking account before he snatches it”

“I have one check in my purse.”

“That’s all you need. Go to the bank and close that account This afternoon I’m taking you to see my lawyer.”

Sonya didn’t think she could walk to the bank again, and when she went for the car in the garage beneath the apartment house, she noticed Bryon’s empty parking place. She had supposed his car was at the airport, but no doubt he had driven to California since he didn’t expect to return. When traveling by plane, they usually took their old car to leave at the airport, but she hadn’t questioned his decision to drive the new car and leave the old one for her. Come to think about it, she hadn’t questioned anything that Bryon did. She loved him and trusted him completely, why should she have doubted him?

Sonya filled out the check for $929.38, drove to the bank’s drive-in and received the total amount in cash. Returning to the apartment, she spent the rest of the morning looking through Bryon’s desk. The gas and electric bills, car payment, and credit card statements totaled more than the cash she had.

Leta rang the bell at one o’clock. “Ready?” she said.

“Why is it necessary to see a lawyer? For one thing, I don’t have any money to pay attorney fees.”

“Lawyers are used to waiting for their money until the divorce settlement is made.”

“Divorce! I don’t want a divorce.”

“Even if this is just a separation, you’ll have to make some arrangements for him to support you.”

“I’ll get a job.”

“That’s assuming you can find a good job right away! Besides, Bryon should pay child support.” She pointed to the desk where Sonya had stacked the bills. “Someone will have to pay those, and you know you can’t. If you get a job tomorrow, it will be weeks before you would receive a check.”

“When is our rent due?” Sonya gasped, realizing that she hadn’t considered that obligation.

“You’re paid through the rest of this month, but don’t worry about that.”

Sonya reluctantly followed Leta out of the apartment building. As Leta drove along busy Dodge Street, she said, “The lawyer’s name is Daniel Massie. He represented me in my last divorce. Before I went to him, I’d heard he was always on the woman’s side, and I believe it. He surely held my ex’s feet to the fire.”

Leta parked in an underground garage. “Massie’s office is on the fourth floor of this building. I telephoned and made an appointment, so I’ll introduce you and then wait in the reception room. You’ll be more at ease if you talk to him alone.”

“I don’t know what to say, and I’m scared.”

“No need to be. He’s a gracious man.”

Sonya’s stomach heaved, and she nearly retched during the elevator ride to the fourth floor. She pressed sweaty hands to her abdomen and leaned against the wall, thankful that no one else except Leta had witnessed her discomfort.

Daniel Massie greeted Leta warmly when they entered his office, and after the introduction, he turned to Sonya with a smile and shook hands with her.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” Leta said.

Massie motioned Sonya to a chair beside his desk. Daniel Massie was a man at whom people, especially women, took a second glance. Even as he leaned back, at ease in his leather chair, he exhibited a hint of latent authority. He was not handsome in the usual sense, yet his face was made up of winsome features—brilliant gray eyes, small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a warm smile. Yes, it was a face meriting a second glance, but although he had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, Sonya couldn’t meet his gaze.

What kind of person must he think she was when her husband had deserted her?

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Dixon?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. What a dumb remark! And she made it worse by stammering, “I didn’t want to come, but Leta thought I should.”

What had happened to her self-confidence? she wondered.

“How old are you?” the lawyer said.

“Twenty-three. I’ve been married two years.”

“Not quite as old as my mother was when my father went off and left her with two children to raise. That was twenty-five years ago when I was five years old, but I still remember the problems she had.”

Sonya twisted her purse straps. The telephone rang, and Massie engaged in a short conversation with another client relating to an automobile accident Water gurgled in the aquarium in the corner, and Sonya riveted her eyes upon the black and gold fish zipping gracefully through the bubbling water. The leather furnishings of the room weren’t new, but they had quality, and Sonya deduced that Daniel Massie had a thriving law practice much beyond what she could afford.

When he replaced the receiver, he said, “Mrs. Barton briefly outlined the nature of your problem, but perhaps it would be better if I hear it from you.”

In halting sentences, Sonya unburdened the trauma of the past two months, leaving out nothing. It was easier to talk to a stranger than her friends. “The worst thing about it is that we had been very happy up until that point I just can’t believe that my life could change so drastically.”

“On what criteria do you judge the happiness of your marriage?”

Was he suggesting that they hadn’t been happy? The nerve of the man!

Almost belligerently, Sonya said, “We lived in a large apartment in the best part of town, lavishly furnished, and we vacationed at luxurious places. Bryon bought me expensive jewelry, and he insisted that I buy nothing but designer clothing. Of course we were happy.”

“But it takes more than material things to make a happy marriage. You’ve mentioned nothing about tenderness, mutual respect and devotion.”

“We had those, too,” Sonya said with downcast eyes. But had they? Daniel Massie had given her something to think about.

“Do you want me to contact your husband?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to make him any angrier. And I can’t have you working for me when I can’t pay you. Perhaps you can just advise me.”

The lawyer pondered a moment “Do you have family to help you financially?”

“My parents live in Ohio and would probably help me if I asked, but I won’t ask them. They were opposed to my marriage, and I remember my grandmother’s old adage, ‘If you make the bed, lie in it’ It’s my problem, and I don’t expect to burden them with it.”

“Then it might be a good idea for you to talk with a marriage counselor. You’ll need help from someone.”

“I’ll handle it myself. I still think Bryon will come back.”

“Even so, I suggest that you send those current bills to your husband. If he’s been caring for the finances, he’ll have to continue to do so. Also, if you won’t let me contact him, you’ll have to. Find out exactly what he intends to do. And I must warn you, Mrs. Dixon, from his actions, I think he means to make this a permanent break. If he sues for divorce, you’ll need an attorney.”

“I don’t believe in divorce.”

“You may not have a choice, and if he files, you must have help.” Daniel Massie smiled slightly. “You won’t let me help you. You won’t call upon your parents or a marriage counselor. But you must face reality. Mrs. Dixon, I’ve been through this with many other women. You can’t handle it alone. You’ll need help to get through this,” he added gently.

Sonya stood to leave and found that her legs scarcely sustained her body. She held on to his desk for support The lawyer quickly left his chair, came to her side and took her arm.

“Perhaps you should sit down for a few minutes,” he said, with concern in his voice. “I’ll call Mrs. Barton to assist you.”

Sonya shook her head. “I’m all right now. How much do I owe you, Mr. Massie?”

“Nothing at all today, since I haven’t done anything for you.”

“I won’t accept charity.”

“It isn’t charity—I never charge for a consultation of this type. If you need further help, then we can consider a fee. But there is one thing you can do for me.”

She looked at him questioningly, suddenly suspicious of his motives. What kind of woman did he consider her?

“I’d like to have you talk to a friend of mine, a professional counselor as well as a minister.” He picked up a notepad, wrote a name and handed it to her. “His name is Adam Benson, and he and his wife, Marie, will come to you anytime day or night when you have a special need. I’ve written down his home and office phone numbers.”

“I don’t need to talk to a minister or a counselor. I can handle this alone.”

“I’m sure you believe you can. But there comes a time in each life when human resources, and our own self-determination fail us. When those times occur, people who don’t have a higher power to sustain them will be overwhelmed by the pressure. I don’t want that to happen to you, Mrs. Dixon. Please take this card.”

This man is really concerned about me, Sonya thought, and she took the card from his hand.

“Thank you,” she murmured and walked weakly from the office.

Leta took Sonya’s arm and helped her to the elevator, and Sonya was thankful to have a friend to lean on.

“What did you think of Daniel?” Leta asked, as she drove out of the parking garage.

“He was all right, I suppose.”

“He makes a good appearance before a judge. I think he’s very handsome.”

“Maybe so. I was so embarrassed to be telling my problems to a stranger that I hardly looked at the man, but I was surprised that he seemed to be really interested in my welfare. After all, he must see dozens of people with such problems in a week’s time. How could he be interested in each one?”

“I don’t know, but he is. He makes all of his clients believe that solving their problems is his first priority. I’ve heard of a few cases when he’s represented abused women in getting their divorces and has charged no fee at all, simply because they couldn’t have gotten a divorce otherwise.”

Sonya thought about that. It was rare to find a person who helped others so selflessly. Daniel Massie was an unusual man.

The letter she’d been looking for had arrived when Sonya entered the apartment. She tore open the flap of the envelope with trembling hands:

Dear Sonya,

By this time you will have recovered from the shock of my earlier letter. As you may have gathered, I want a divorce. I hope you’ll be reasonable and not cause trouble about this, for I have no notion of returning to Omaha. You can send my clothes to the address below.

Bryon

Sonya dropped the letter on the floor and stamped on it. She picked up the second oriental vase and hurled it across the room. The shattered pieces joined the fragments of the other vase she hadn’t cleaned up from the carpet If she was only a possession to Bryon, perhaps if she destroyed everything else, he would turn to her.

She went to the desk, picked up all the bills that had accumulated in Bryon’s absence and stuffed them into a stamped envelope. Angrily she scratched out a note. “If you want your clothes, you can come after them.” Before she lost her nerve, she sealed the envelope, ran downstairs, and dropped it in the mailbox in front of the apartment house.

The next morning Sonya went to the unemployment agency and applied for work. Even as she filled out the blanks, she realized that she was a poor candidate for a job. She had no experience at anything. Being the wife of a successful stock broker wasn’t much of a recommendation for employment, and she’d taken only basic subjects her two years in college, so she had no training in any field.

What was it her father had said? “Please don’t get married before you finish college, Sonya. The day will come when you’ll wish you had that degree.” But Sonya had ignored her father’s advice and listened to Bryon instead. “But I don’t want to wait, Sonya. If I leave you here and go off to work somewhere else, you might find another man you want to marry. I want you with me always. Don’t I mean more to you than a college diploma?”

Sonya shook her head to rid her mind of such perplexing thoughts and continued to fill out the job application.

The clerk who interviewed her was sympathetic and kind. She suggested that Sonya should enroll in some kind of job training at a vocational school. After scrutinizing Sonya closely, apparently taking in her expensive clothing, she said, “If you need financial help, there are federal grants available.”

But that wouldn’t take care of her living expenses in the meantime.

“I’ll give that some thought,” Sonya told the woman. “Thank you.”

Acting upon Leta’s advice, Sonya spent the next week going from one business establishment to another filling out work applications. Each personnel officer was kind, but the answer was always, “We’ll telephone you if there’s an opening.” Meanwhile, Sonya’s small hoard of money dwindled rapidly.

Several times she looked at the telephone number that Daniel Massie had given her. Did she need counseling? She found it difficult to discuss her problems with anyone, even her mother, who had telephoned again, wondering why they hadn’t heard from her, but Sonya hadn’t mentioned Bryon’s absence.

Finally, when she had given up hearing from him, Bryon telephoned. The joy she felt when she heard his voice made her body tremble like a breeze-wafted aspen leaf.

“Oh, Bryon, I’m so glad you called.”

“I doubt you will be when you hear what I have to say. First of all, tomorrow, I’m sending a friend of mine to pick up my belongings. Be sure you send everything.”

“Bryon, please, don’t you intend to come back?”

“I think I made that plain to you before. I intend to divorce you.”

“But you can’t do that! Bryon, I still love you. I need you. Why are you treating me this way?”

She began to sob and he hung up on her. It was hours before Sonya stopped crying. She would have been better off if he hadn’t called, as she’d developed a numbness about his absence, and now her heartache started again.

His clothes still lay where she had thrown them two weeks ago, and she picked them up lovingly, chagrined at the mess they were in. She worked for hours pressing the garments to make them as neat as he liked his clothing. There wasn’t anything she could do about the mutilated ties, and she questioned whether she should send them. If she didn’t, he would probably demand to know where they were, so she stacked them with his other things. Sonya had hoped that this menial service for Bryon would serve as a catharsis to rid her mind of the unkind thoughts she’d been having about her husband. Instead she actually felt unclean to love so wholeheartedly a man who no longer loved her, and perhaps never had.

She telephoned Leta early the next morning. “Bryon is sending someone after his clothing today. Do you have any large cartons that I can use for packing?”

“I’ll have the janitor bring some to your apartment, and I’ll help you pack. You shouldn’t have to do that by yourself.”

When Leta saw Sonya’s stricken face, she was unusually quiet, and she didn’t make any caustic comments about the tears Sonya shed as they tied the boxes. Leta put comforting arms around Sonya’s shoulders and said, “Cry all you want to. I know you won’t believe me now, but you’ll get over this. You’ll be happy again.”

“You’re a good friend, Leta, and I’ve found I don’t have many. Bryon has been my life for three years. The friends we had were his friends. The Shraders are the only ones who have shown me a bit of kindness since Bryon left. I feel like a pariah. Bryon is the one at fault—why does everyone shun me?”

“I don’t know,” Leta answered, patting Sonya’s trembling shoulders. “Mostly it’s because they don’t know what to say to you. They don’t intend to be unkind.”

“And I’ll have to lose you, too, Leta, since I can’t go on living in your apartment and not pay rent The rent will be due next week, and as you know, I can’t pay it.”

“Hush that kind of talk. I’ll carry you until you get on your feet.”

“But I can’t afford this apartment on what I’ll be able to make. And I hate to ask you, but could you buy the furniture? I don’t know that I have the right to sell it, but if you could buy it, that would give me some money to rent a smaller place. You could rent this as a furnished apartment, couldn’t you?”

“I often have calls for furnished apartments, and I’ll buy the furniture if you’re determined to move, but don’t decide now. I have plenty of money, and I have no intention of setting you out on the street.” She kissed Sonya’s cheek and released her. “This is a tough break, little lady, but you’ll come through it all right. Let me know when they come for Bryon’s clothing, and I’ll have the janitor carry the boxes down to the lobby. You shouldn’t lift them.”

All day Sonya waited, but it was after five o’clock before the doorbell rang, and she was surprised to see Gail Lantz, one of the women from Bryon’s office. Gail had attended most of the parties they’d had in the apartment. She was a divorcee, but she usually came in the company of a single man from the office. Sonya and Gail met occasionally for lunch.

“Hello, Gail,” Sonya said. “Come in. I’m glad to see you.” What a relief to know that all of their old friends hadn’t deserted her!

“I don’t have time to visit. I came for Bryon’s things.”

Gail was a petite brunette with a helpless look in her eyes, who prompted protective instincts from others. Until today, Sonya had never detected any arrogance in her personality.

“Oh, I didn’t know who he was sending.” She stepped back into the apartment. “They’re boxed and in the bedroom. The janitor will carry them downstairs.”

“Two of the men from the office are with me. They’ll carry the boxes.”

The men, both of whom had often visited their apartment, pushed a luggage carrier down the hall. Mute, Sonya motioned them to enter. They spoke, and after that, refused to meet her gaze.

Sonya followed them into the bedroom. They stacked the boxes on the carrier while Gail riffled the dresser drawers. She added Bryon’s jewelry box and several books to the stack. When she picked up Sonya’s jewelry box, Sonya said, “That happens to be mine. Or do you have orders to take my things, too?”

Gail fingered several of the gold chains and lifted the diamond necklace, Bryon’s last-year’s Christmas gift. She dropped it back into the box and closed the lid. “You’d better put those in a safer place. You won’t be getting any more.”

From the nightstand drawer, she took an album filled with pictures of Bryon’s childhood and youth activities. She brushed by Sonya and went back into the living room, where she collected the trophies and plaques that Bryon had won at bowling and golf tournaments.

“Where are his golf clubs and bowling ball? He wants those, also.”

Sonya pointed to the closet beside the hallway. She had lost the power to speak. Gail handed Bryon’s sports equipment to the waiting men, and as Sonya listened to the carrier squeaking down the hall removing all evidence of Bryon from the apartment, she couldn’t have been any more disconsolate if they had been wheeling Bryon out in a casket.

Before Gail left, she took a letter from her purse. “Bryon also wanted me to give you this.” Her brown eyes flared maliciously.

Sonya couldn’t lift her arm to take the E-mail letter, so Gail laid it on the table, exited into the hall and slammed the door.

Gail! Was she the other woman Leta had warned her about?

Sonya locked the door, as she didn’t want anyone to come in. She had about reached the end of her endurance, and if she came completely unwound, she didn’t want anyone to witness it

She forced herself to pick up the message Gail had placed on the table.

Sonya,

I’ve paid the bills you sent, and I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’ll pay no more. I’ve arranged for the telephone to be disconnected, and the electric and gas will be shut off the last of the month. If you had been reasonable when I asked for a divorce, I wouldn’t have gone to this extent. As far as I’m concerned, you can fend for yourself.

Your “loving” husband, Bryon.

The last of the month. So she had three more days to live in this apartment. Even if Leta permitted her to stay rent free, she couldn’t live here without utilities.

The telephone rang several times before Sonya finally answered it.

“Mrs. Dixon, this is Doctor Hammer’s office. When we submitted the statement for your last office call, the insurance company rejected our request stating you were no longer on that policy. I’m sure it’s a mistake, but I thought you should check it out.”

“Thank you for calling. I’ll look into it.”

“And don’t forget your next appointment in two weeks.”

Sonya replaced the phone. Of course, there wasn’t any mistake—Bryon had removed her from the policy. What could she do? She had no job, no money, no insurance for the birth of her baby, no friends, no nothing.

Laughing wildly, Sonya charged around the room kicking the furniture. She looked out the window. What did she have to live for? Three floors down. One quick jump would end it all. It would be practically painless and easy. She unlatched the window and climbed out onto the ledge. The traffic roared below her. She looked down fearlessly. On the count of ten, she would jump.

“One.”

I’ve always feared heights. Shouldn’t I be afraid now?

“Two.”

The clouds are pretty today. They remind me of the sky in Ohio when I was a child. I used to pick out all kinds of figures in the clouds—animals, continents, states. Can I do that now? Why, yes, that one looks like an angel. Is it my guardian angel? “I looked over Jordan, and what did I see? Angels coming to carry me home,” she sang dreamily.

“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

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.”

“But my telephone service will be discontinued tomorrow!”

“Sometimes it takes a few days for the telephone company to follow through on those orders. We’ll trust that will be the case in this instance.”

Before they left, Marie handed Sonya a small book, entitled, No Easy Way Out.

“Please read this book,” Adam said. “It’s the story of a young woman in this town who went through a difficult marriage. She thought she was taking the easy way out, but the woman who wrote the pamphlet believes healing comes through facing one’s problems.” He took Sonya’s hand. “How is your relationship with God, Sonya? I feel I must ask that.”

“My parents started taking me to church when I was a tiny girl, and Bryon and I go to church occasionally. I do believe in God.”

“How long since you’ve read your Bible?”

Sonya dropped her head. “Not since I’ve been married.”

“Then I would suggest that you read it. God can help you, but you need to reach out to Him.”

Desperation surged over Sonya again when the door closed behind the Bensons. She looked out the window and then checked to be sure the latch was securely closed. She pushed several chairs in front of the window to deter her if she tried to climb out again. The street lamps radiated brightness, and blurred streaks of automobile headlights pierced the darkness. Sonya shuddered when she thought of where she might be now if the Bensons and Daniel Massie hadn’t been concerned.

She looked at the two numbers Benson had given her. Would there be someone to listen if she telephoned? She dialed one of them, and a pleasant voice answered, “We Care. May I help you?”

Sonya laughed nervously. “I only wanted to know you were there in case I do need you. Adam Benson told me to call when I have a problem.”

“Someone will be here all of the time,” the woman assured her. “When you feel a problem coming on, telephone. We’ll listen.”

Sonya ran the sweeper, dusted the furniture and did a load of laundry. Still not sleepy, she picked up the pamphlet Marie had given her. She started reading the story of Alice Simmons.

She tried to remember where she had heard that name, but couldn’t quite recall. Then she remembered, she’d heard the woman’s name on the news some months ago. Alice Simmons was related to someone well known in the city—Sonya didn’t remember who.

She did remember that Alice’s death by her own hand had attracted a great deal of attention in the local news. Alice had married a hardened criminal without any knowledge of his illegal activities. She had suffered abuse of all kinds, and had finally left the man to live with her grandmother. Her husband had continued to harass her, and unable to get rid of him, she had finally committed suicide. Sonya could see her own situation in that of Alice, and again she longed for the release that death would bring.

But the pamphlet continued, “There’s no easy way out. Trust God with your problems. Deal with them head-on, rather than ignore them.”

These words spoke to Sonya’s immediate need, for she had been feeling guilty that she had actually planned to take her life. She couldn’t imagine why she would be tempted to do such a thing, but in light of Alice’s experience, her action must be a normal response to what she had been through.

During Adam’s counseling, he had told her to remember, “When your burden seems the worst, a way out will be provided.” She repeated the words over and over, and she went to bed, clutching the paper Adam had given her. She dreaded to turn out the light, but she went to sleep right away. Suddenly she awakened overwhelmed with heaviness and despair.

God can’t help me. Adam Benson can’t help me. Nobody can help me. I’ll do what Alice Simmons did. Surely I can be as brave as she was.

Sonya slid out of bed and headed for the window, but she became conscious of the slip of paper in her hand. Her shaking fingers reached for the telephone, and she dialed the number for We Care, fearing no one would answer.

“We Care. May I help you?”

“Yes, please. I’m considering taking my own life.”

The woman’s voice at the other end of the line spoke soothingly, “Tell me what’s bothering you, ma’am.”

At the end of a half hour, Sonya terminated the conversation feeling relaxed, although the woman hadn’t said much. She had simply let Sonya talk, but that had been comforting. Remembering the woman’s last words from the Bible, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning,” Sonya went to sleep again.

Once more during the night, she awakened, shaking violently. She dialed the number. A man answered and, speaking calmly, he discussed the good things in life, ending with, “Why don’t you try remembering all the pleasant times you’ve enjoyed through the years. Usually they outweigh the bad days.”

After considerable effort, Sonya blocked out the past two years and thought of her childhood on the farm. She envisioned fields of growing corn, ripening wheat and the scent of new-mown hay. She eventually went to sleep, to be awakened by the ringing telephone. The sun shone brightly through her windows.

She reached for the phone receiver. “Good morning, Sonya. This is Marie Benson. How do you feel?”

“Tired, but safe, thanks to you and your friends.”

“Adam and I want to talk with you again. When will it be convenient for you?”

“As soon as I shower and have breakfast. Do you know, I actually feel hungry this morning?”

“Great! That’s a good sign. You’ve started on the road to recovery.”

The warm shower took away some of Sonya’s weariness, but when she started to dry her hair, the dryer wouldn’t work. She tried the light switch—no power. So Bryon hadn’t been fooling—he’d had the power company disconnect the electricity. No doubt the telephone would go next. Fortunately the water was provided as part of their rent, so she wouldn’t be completely without utilities until she could find some other place to live.

Without electricity, she had to be satisfied with a glass of milk and untoasted bread for breakfast, but though she had felt hungry, she threw most of the bread in the garbage. Her obstetrician had given specific instructions about her diet, and she knew she must be more careful, but not this morning. She made an effort to greet the Bensons with cheerfulness, but after she reviewed her tense night, Adam said, “You probably still aren’t out of the woods as far as despair is concerned, but you know how to handle it now. Let’s deal with your immediate problems. As I see it you have several options, and if we had more time, we could make long-range plans, but it’s obvious you’ll have to make a change in living arrangements right away.”

“What options do you suggest?” A sense of frustration threatened to overpower her again. If it were only herself, she could live anywhere, but she had to have a place for her baby.

“You can go to your parents and stay until after the birth of your child. Surely they would take you in.”

“I know they would, and they’ll be furious when they find out I haven’t come to them, but when I disregarded their wishes by marrying before I finished college, I don’t think they should be burdened with my mistake. My dad said if I was burned, I’d have to suffer with the blister by myself.”

“I doubt he meant that,” Adam said with a smile. “I have three children, and I know how your parents will feel. Besides, it will be a burden to them whether or not you go home.”

“It may come to that, but not until I’ve exhausted every other possibility.”

“You can go on welfare. The agency will provide you with food and shelter, as well as a health card to take care of your medical expenses.”

Sonya shook her head. “Why should the taxpayers be burdened with my mistake?”

“Then your only other option is to take legal action immediately, to force your husband to support you until after the child is born. You might feel it isn’t a problem your parents or the public should share, but you can certainly realize that he has an obligation.”

“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.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.