country. And Corrie couldn’t tell her the reason, the secret she’d held in the weeks after he’d left—that she was pregnant. Pregnant with Daniel’s child. She hadn’t told him before he left. She’d known for a couple weeks, but she’d been waiting for the right time.
And then September 11 happened and Daniel left. And he never looked back, never called or wrote, never even let her know where he’d settled.
Corrie wondered sometimes if he would have stayed had he known about the baby. What would their life have been like if he’d stayed, if she’d had the baby? But she couldn’t bring herself to search for him, tell him he was going to be a father, trap him in a life he didn’t want.
So she’d quietly made arrangements with a clinic in Chicago. Three weeks after Daniel left, the baby was gone. And Corrie spent the next two years mourning the loss of her love, her child, and her innocence. She’d never gotten over the guilt. She went on with her life, married Mark, even tried to get pregnant. But she always knew the reason they couldn’t have a child was because of the abortion. She had killed her first child. God would not give her another one. That was her penance, the price she would pay for her sin.
When she and Mark married, Corrie had converted to Catholicism, confessing her sin to the kind priest who baptized her.
He advised her to tell Mark, told her that God loved her, and explained what she must do to be forgiven. But Corrie knew she would not be forgiven, could never be forgiven. She knew her inability to have children was her just punishment.
She never told Mark.
She came to love the church, though, the sacred rituals, the holy feeling that came with communion. Growing up, her mother had taken them to a Baptist church sporadically, but Corrie never really felt part of it. Instead, she always felt like Patrice was putting on a show, trying to prove to the community that she was a good mother. At home, however, there were no prayers, no talk about faith.
In the years since her marriage, Corrie had found a home in their local parish. She went to Mass every Sunday, sitting with Sarah when Mark was traveling. She often went to early morning Mass before work, especially when she felt troubled about something. She belonged to the women’s group at Holy Spirit and helped with bake sales and food drives. She even went to confession on occasion, although she felt out of place in the confessional, as though the abortion had ruined her chances for redemption.
She stared out the window of the plane, wishing she could atone for that sin. Finally, she crossed herself, closed her eyes, and began softly, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.”
Corrie nudged the rental car into traffic, chewing her lip till it hurt. She’d never seen so many cars, all vying for space on the six lanes of freeway. The cell phone in her purse rang shrilly, but she couldn’t dig it out in time. She checked the caller ID—Sarah. She hoped her sister-in-law wasn’t in early labor. More likely, she was calling to fret again about Corrie’s trip.
“It’s not a good idea,” she’d insisted the night before. “Mark is really mad.”
“I know.” Corrie had sighed. “But I’ve already made the reservations. Besides, it’s only a few days.”
Sarah hadn’t pushed it, but Corrie knew she was upset.
At last, her exit appeared and she pulled off the freeway with a sigh of relief.
After settling into the hotel, she checked the phone book for the community center’s address, then got online for driving directions. She took a shower and put on a business suit, scrutinizing herself in the mirror. Too formal. She changed into a skirt and blouse with sandals. Better.
She applied her lipstick, smudged it, washed her face, and tried again.
Finally, she deemed herself presentable, picked up her notebook, recorder, and camera, and walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. What was
And then September 11 happened and Daniel left. And he never looked back, never called or wrote, never even let her know where he’d settled.
Corrie wondered sometimes if he would have stayed had he known about the baby. What would their life have been like if he’d stayed, if she’d had the baby? But she couldn’t bring herself to search for him, tell him he was going to be a father, trap him in a life he didn’t want.
So she’d quietly made arrangements with a clinic in Chicago. Three weeks after Daniel left, the baby was gone. And Corrie spent the next two years mourning the loss of her love, her child, and her innocence. She’d never gotten over the guilt. She went on with her life, married Mark, even tried to get pregnant. But she always knew the reason they couldn’t have a child was because of the abortion. She had killed her first child. God would not give her another one. That was her penance, the price she would pay for her sin.
When she and Mark married, Corrie had converted to Catholicism, confessing her sin to the kind priest who baptized her.
He advised her to tell Mark, told her that God loved her, and explained what she must do to be forgiven. But Corrie knew she would not be forgiven, could never be forgiven. She knew her inability to have children was her just punishment.
She never told Mark.
She came to love the church, though, the sacred rituals, the holy feeling that came with communion. Growing up, her mother had taken them to a Baptist church sporadically, but Corrie never really felt part of it. Instead, she always felt like Patrice was putting on a show, trying to prove to the community that she was a good mother. At home, however, there were no prayers, no talk about faith.
In the years since her marriage, Corrie had found a home in their local parish. She went to Mass every Sunday, sitting with Sarah when Mark was traveling. She often went to early morning Mass before work, especially when she felt troubled about something. She belonged to the women’s group at Holy Spirit and helped with bake sales and food drives. She even went to confession on occasion, although she felt out of place in the confessional, as though the abortion had ruined her chances for redemption.
She stared out the window of the plane, wishing she could atone for that sin. Finally, she crossed herself, closed her eyes, and began softly, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.”
Corrie nudged the rental car into traffic, chewing her lip till it hurt. She’d never seen so many cars, all vying for space on the six lanes of freeway. The cell phone in her purse rang shrilly, but she couldn’t dig it out in time. She checked the caller ID—Sarah. She hoped her sister-in-law wasn’t in early labor. More likely, she was calling to fret again about Corrie’s trip.
“It’s not a good idea,” she’d insisted the night before. “Mark is really mad.”
“I know.” Corrie had sighed. “But I’ve already made the reservations. Besides, it’s only a few days.”
Sarah hadn’t pushed it, but Corrie knew she was upset.
At last, her exit appeared and she pulled off the freeway with a sigh of relief.
After settling into the hotel, she checked the phone book for the community center’s address, then got online for driving directions. She took a shower and put on a business suit, scrutinizing herself in the mirror. Too formal. She changed into a skirt and blouse with sandals. Better.
She applied her lipstick, smudged it, washed her face, and tried again.
Finally, she deemed herself presentable, picked up her notebook, recorder, and camera, and walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. What was
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