Bridge to Haven by Francine Rivers

to aim it at someone. Volunteer to go back? Was Joshua crazy? Did he want to die?
    Gasping for breath, she continued at a fast walk until she reached the town square. She sat on a bench, looking at the patio where Joshua had danced with her. No bands today. Summer was long over. Rain drizzled; dark clouds promised heavier ones coming. Her body cooled and she shivered. Bessie’s would offer shelter.
    Few customers came between breakfast and lunch. The bell jangled over the door as she went in. The dark-haired woman at the counter glanced up in surprise. What was her name? Susan Wells.
    “Can I have a drink, Mrs. Wells?”
    “Call me Susan.” She put crushed ice in a tall glass, filled it with water, and set it in front of Abra. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you all right?”
    “I’m all right. Joshua’s been wounded.” She gulped the water.
    “Pastor Zeke’s son. Nice young man. You’ve been in here with him, haven’t you?”
    “He’s my best friend. Or he was. I don’t know anymore. He hardlywrites. He tells Pastor Zeke all the important stuff and just asks me a bunch of stupid questions.” She spoke in mockery. “‘How’s school, Abra? How are you getting on with Penny? Are you doing your homework? Are you going to church?’” She bit her lip to stop the rush of words, afraid tears would follow. Why was she rattling on to a stranger?
    “Maybe he doesn’t tell you some things because he knows you’d worry.”
    “I’m not going to worry about him anymore.” She drank the rest of the water and plunked the glass down on the counter. “I don’t care what he does. He can go to perdition for all I care.”
    “That’s usually what we say when we care a whole lot.” Susan gave a mirthless smile as she refilled the glass. “He’s a medic, isn’t he?”
    Abra slumped onto a stool. “He’s an idiot!”
    “How badly wounded?”
    “Enough that the Army is sending him home, but not enough to keep him from going back again!”
    “Oh.” Susan sighed, staring off into space. “He did look like that sort of young man.”
    “What sort?”
    “The sort that cares more about other people than himself.” She smiled sadly. “Not many men like that around anymore. That’s for sure.”
    Abra covered her face and gulped down a sob.
    Susan took hold of her wrists and squeezed. “I’m so sorry, Abra. I’m so, so sorry.” She spoke so close Abra could feel the warmth of her breath. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that you’ve got no say in what other people do with their lives. Everyone makes their own choices, good or bad.”
    “I don’t want him to die.”
    Susan’s hands loosened and lifted away. “All you can do is wait and see what happens.” She put several napkins on the counter in front of Abra.
    Abra took one and blew her nose. “I’m sorry I’m making a fuss.”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    Abra looked out the window. No drizzle now, just a cold, hard, pelting rain. “Can I stay awhile?”
    “Stay as long as you want.” She put a menu in front of Abra. “You might feel better if you had something to eat.”
    “I don’t have any money.”
    “My treat.” Susan smiled. “Unless you want a steak.”

    Joshua felt fear bubble up inside him like soda in a shaken can. It made no sense. He was stateside and on a Greyhound bus heading home. Soon after he’d arrived at Travis, he’d tried to volunteer to go back to Korea, but he’d been told he’d have to reenlist. He prayed about it, but instead of feeling peace about returning to the front, he’d felt the strong pull to go home.
    Everything was so quiet, so normal, while inside, he felt anything but. He couldn’t stop thinking about the men still in Korea, still fighting, still dying. He felt like he’d gone through a meat grinder and been spewed out the other side.
    Most of the bus passengers slept. One snored loudly in the back row. Joshua dozed and dreamed he was running up a hill,