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Love Abounds

By Ann Bell

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Chapter 1

Sarah Brown dropped the letter onto her desk as her tearful eyes drifted listlessly toward the window toward the administration building of Rocky Bluff Community College. The grass was a brittle brown, while the leaves lay in piles against the surrounding structures. Generally, there would have been at least one major snowfall in central Montana before Thanksgiving, but this had been an exceptionally warm autumn, and the strongest leaves were still clinging tenaciously to the trees. Her term paper was due the following week, she had a group presentation consisting of a debate before the entire class on their selected topic, plus final exams were two weeks away.
Why does this have to happen to me now? She groaned with frustration as a lump built in her throat. In spite of how hard I’ve worked, it looks as if I’ll have to drop out of school and work two jobs until I can save enough money to finish. My financial aid for next semester is only going to be enough to cover my tuition and books, and not nearly enough to cover my room and board. As much as I hate to do it, I suppose I’d better go talk to my advisor tomorrow and let him know that I won’t be back for spring semester.
A shrill ring interrupted Sarah’s worries. She reached for the telephone on the corner of her desk. “Hello.”
“Hello, Sarah,” a cheerful baritone voice greeted. “I thought you were going to meet with our debate team at the library at two o’clock.” A slight tease resonated in his voice. “We can’t function here without you.”
Sarah glanced at the clock over her roommate’s dresser and gasped. “Oh no, I forgot all about it. I’ll get my notes and be right over.”
“Great. We’ll be waiting for you in the corner study room on the main floor.”
Sarah nearly ran the entire way across campus to the li-brary. When she breathlessly arrived five minutes later, three of her classmates were already clustered around a rectangular table, engaged in heavy debate.
“Glad you could join us,” Ryder Long scolded jovially as he pulled out the chair next to him for her. “We’re in the process of deciding who will take the affirmative position in support of the United States’ involvement in the building of the International Space Station and who will argue against it. So far, we have two in favor of the project and one uncommitted. How do you stand?”
Sarah took her seat and glanced around the table at her classmates. As much as she liked each one of them, she would much rather work on a project independently. Although collaboration was considered an extremely effective educational tool, Sarah often felt as if they were designing an elephant by committee instead of planning a usable presentation. However, in spite of her misgiving, she immediately joined into the group dynamics. “I’ve been doing a lot of research over the Internet about the ISS, and from what I’ve learned, I think our country would be much farther ahead spending our tax money on social services instead of more hardware toys for the scientists,” she stated firmly.
“Spoken like a true liberal,” Ryder teased.
Sarah’s face reddened as she tried to maintain her compo-sure. “My viewpoint has nothing to do with my politics,” she retorted sharply. “But it has a lot to do with my own personal experiences. I don’t like to see some people have extra while others starve and can’t pay their bills.”
Marcella Cross’s eyes widened, and an expression of con-cern spread across her face. “How are you in more pain than the rest of us?” she queried sarcastically. “Aren’t we all in this college struggle together?”
Sarah studied her friend’s innocent face and trendy clothing. Sarah rarely shared her background with her classmates, because most would not understand the hurtful, complex events that had brought her to Rocky Bluff to attend college. Knowing that she could only tell part of the story, Sarah took a deep breath and replied, “For one thing, I just learned that my financial aid for next semester won’t be enough to cover my room and board, so I’ll have to drop out of school until I can save enough money to finish. If more money were available for education, I’d be able to graduate this spring with everyone else.”
A shocked look spread across each of her classmates’ faces. She knew that those who were able to live at home with their parents had little understanding of the pressures of those who had to pay for their own room and board.
“Surely there’s some way you can stay in school,” Ryder responded sympathetically. “I’d hate to think that you got within five months of graduation, then weren’t able to finish your associate’s degree. You’re one of the hardest workers in our class.”
Sarah fixed her eyes. “Don’t worry. . . I’ll be back,” she promised. “I have a better motivator to complete my degree and get a good paying job than most students.” Before anyone could question her further, Sarah immediately changed the subject. “Now back to the space station question. . . How are we going to proceed with our debate? It looks like whoever is undecided will need to argue against the U.S. involvement in the International Space Station with me. He or she can supply the objective facts, and I’ll supply the passion.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. “That settles the easy part,” Ryder shrugged. “Now for the hard part—how can we obtain enough documentation to substantiate our individual viewpoints?”
The other team members looked at each other with blank stares and shrugged their shoulders as Sarah shuffled through her papers. “I found a fantastic Webquest on the Internet that was put together by a high school principal in Brazil and a high school media specialist in Iowa. It contains links to all kinds of Internet sites pertaining to the International Space Station, and it’s organized by how each group with a vested interest in the space station views the need for this project.”
t
As Sarah spoke, Ryder studied Sarah’s delicate features and strong determination. There was something mysteriously different about her. She was not only highly intelligent and highly motivated, but the intensity in her eyes portrayed an aura of mystery that none of her peers possessed. “At least one person has done her homework,” he said with a smile as the others glanced ashamedly at the floor. “Could you tell us the Internet address so we can all take a look at it?”
“Just a second,” Sarah muttered as the others took out their pencils and waited, while she shuffled through her notebook. “Here it is,” she replied after a long pause.
“Has anyone else done any research on the topic?” Ryder asked as his eyes went from Marcella to Josh. “We can’t expect Sarah to do all the work.” Both shook their heads as their faces flushed with embarrassment.
This collaborative group project was developing the same way that most of the other groups that Sarah had been involved with had gone. The faces were different, but the roles people played were always the same. First, there was the self-appointed leader—in this case, it was Ryder. The leader’s position was generally not based on ability, but on personal assertiveness. Generally, the leader did not have to work so hard as the others because he had the talent of motivating others. There often seemed to be at least one person who was either too busy or too lazy to carry his share of the assignment, offset by one overachiever who was willing to do the majority of the work in order to receive the highest grade possible. Sarah smiled to herself as she realized that she was once again playing the role of the overachiever. She often wished that she would not become so emotionally involved in her studies, but she seemed not to be able to control herself. She occasionally laughed about this trait’s being an obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Ryder leaned back in his chair. “Sarah has already done her homework,” he declared as he maintained his role of group leader. “Can everyone meet here tomorrow at four o’clock to begin putting this thing together? Time is beginning to run out on us.”
“Fine by me,” Marcella agreed, knowing that she had a date with one of the football players and would probably not be home until late.
“I think I can make it,” Josh nodded.
Sarah’s eyes drifted from person to person, as her spirits dropped. “I hate being a spoilsport,” she said softly, sensing their potential disapproval, “but I have a commitment every day at four. Could we meet a little earlier?”
Josh Richardson shook his head, while he gave a frustrated sigh. “I don’t get off work at the student union until three, but you could start without me. I could probably be here by three-fifteen at the latest.”
Everyone looked at Ryder for his approval. “Then let’s meet at three, and Josh can join us as soon as he can,” he said authoritatively. The others nodded with agreement without noticing the pained expression spreading across Sarah’s face. One by one, the foursome put on their coats, gathered their books, said farewell, and left.
Sarah’s sense of isolation followed her outside where a sharp northerly wind ruffled her light-brown hair. I wonder how long it will take me to save enough money to come back to col-lege, she mused as she walked the two blocks to the nearest bus stop as she had done nearly every day at this time since she’d been in Rocky Bluff. She had the schedule of the shuttle between the small campus and the downtown memo-rized—every half hour until six o’clock and once an hour be-tween six and midnight.
God has brought me this far; why would He let me down now? She tried to convince herself, but the familiar saying merely mocked her frustration.
Sarah heard footsteps behind her and decided to ignore them until a familiar voice said, “May I give you a lift?” Ryder matched strides with her. “There’s no reason to freeze waiting for the shuttle when I’m going through town myself.”
Sarah shuddered in the cold as she shook her head. The offer was tempting, but she’d been able to keep her double life a secret from her classmates for over eighteen months, and she still felt she wasn’t ready to explain her daily visits to the Little Lambs Children’s Center. She had a great deal of respect for Ryder, and she didn’t want her past to come between their casual friendship. Nearly three years before, Sarah had vowed that she would never again become interested in men. However, since she entered college, she was beginning to find it more and more difficult to keep that vow.
After a few moments of contemplation, Sarah turned her at-tention back to Ryder. “Thanks for the offer,” she responded graciously, “but I don’t want to be an inconvenience. The bus should be along within five minutes.”
t
Ryder’s shoulders slumped. He had met Sarah during freshman orientation and was immediately impressed with her enthusiasm toward learning. Yet, an aura of painful mystery seemed always to surround her, and he was not able to find a way to break through her aloof exterior. “Whenever you need a ride and the bus is late, just give me a call,” he said as he placed his arm on her shoulder. “In the meantime, I’ll see you tomorrow at three. Don’t work too hard on the project tonight. Make the others do their share.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Sarah smiled as she sat down on the edge of the bench at the bus stop. She watched as Ryder strolled confidently toward the parking lot. His thick jet-black hair fell smoothly to his shoulders characteristic of many of the Native Americans in the area. Sarah had often seen Ryder Long in church, plus he had been in several of her classes during the last two semesters. She was impressed with his work ethic and drive for success. He never seemed to be lacking for friends and was the first one to greet a new student and welcome him to the campus. If I had come to college strictly to meet guys, Ryder would be one of the first I’d check out, Sarah sighed, but I have to accept the fact that my life will never follow a traditional pattern of education, job, marriage, then a family.
Just then, the shuttle pulled to a stop, and the door slid open. Sarah showed the driver her pass and took a seat near the front. She blankly watched the rows of ranch-style homes fly past the window. Until she received the letter about her student aid, she thought she had her future well planned, but now fears and uncertainties enveloped her. What would the future hold for her and her daughter if she had to drop out of college?
Twenty minutes later, Sarah stepped from the city shuttle and walked the two blocks to Little Lambs Children’s Center. The building was once the center for most of the medical care in Rocky Bluff, but when Dr. Brewer retired nearly three years before, the building was converted to a foster home for children with severe birth defects. Sarah still marveled at the seemingly miraculous series of events that led Dawn Harkness Reynolds and her husband, Ryan, to become directors of the home. They both sacrificed well-paying careers to return to Rocky Bluff to care for helpless, needy babies.
Dawn had been a successful obstetrics nurse in Billings when she became reacquainted with Ryan Reynolds, an old schoolmate from Rocky Bluff. Their common heritage added fuel to their smoldering romance. Shortly before they were married, the opportunity to return to their hometown to help establish the Little Lambs Children’s Center presented itself, and neither one could resist. Both had been active in the Right-to-Life movement and felt a deep desire to help both mothers and their disabled children. In the last three years, the home had cared for over thirty babies and had trained ten of the mothers to care for their own child so that they could accept full custodial care. Sarah longed for the day that she, too, would be able to take her child home with her.
Upon arriving at the center, Sarah rang the bell and waited. Within a few minutes, a tall blond cradling an infant in her arms opened the door. “Sarah,” Dawn Reynolds greeted. “It’s good to see you again. Do come in.”
Sarah stepped inside and stomped the dust from her shoes. “Charity is still napping,” Dawn explained, “but help yourself to a soda in the lounge and join me in the playroom. One of the assistants is sick today so I’m having to cover for her.”
Sarah hung her coat on the rack in the lounge and decided against a soft drink. She tiptoed into the small room next door containing four toddler beds. She bent over the one in the far corner and admired the sleeping child. An angelic expression covered the little girl’s face. Sarah smiled as she noted how the child’s hair was now almost long enough to conceal the shunt that drained the excess fluid from her head to reduce the pres-sure on her brain. Sarah longed to cuddle Charity in her arms but did not want to interrupt such a peaceful sleep. Instead, Sarah joined Dawn in the playroom.
Dawn motioned Sarah to take the chair beside her as she continued rocking the infant in her arms. “How was your day?” Dawn asked with a smile.
“Not good,” Sarah sighed. “I received some bad news in the mail. . . . I’m afraid I’ll have to drop out of school next semester.”
Dawn’s forehead wrinkled as her mouth dropped. She knew how hard Sarah had worked and how far she had come in a short time. “What happened?” she queried.
“I got a notice that they will be cutting my financial aid, and it will barely be enough to cover my tuition and books,” Sarah replied sadly. “Until I finish my training, there is no way I can make enough at a part-time job to pay for my room and board. Tomorrow I’m going to have to tell my advisor that I’m dropping out.”
Dawn hesitated. There had to be a way for Sarah to obtain enough money to pay for her room and board for just one more semester. She remembered how four years ago her church in Billings had rallied to help Sarah as an unwed mother who had been disowned by her family. Because of their love and encouragement, Sarah felt the guilt of what she had done and soon accepted Christ’s love and forgiveness. In spite of their youth, both Sarah and Jeff Blair, the father, accepted the responsibility for their child born with severe spina bifida and were determined to do whatever was necessary to see that she lived as productive a life as possible.
“I hate to see you drop out,” Dawn replied. “Let’s give it a few more days and see what might turn up. What is the last possible day you can let them know if you will be returning for spring semester?”
Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “We have to register for classes December eleventh; then we have Christmas vacation from the fifteenth to the third of January. There are so few good paying jobs here in Rocky Bluff, that I’ll probably have to go job hunting in Billings during vacation time.”
“If you move back to Billings, you won’t be able to see Charity every day, and you’ll postpone your biggest goal of all—that of being a self-supporting, custodial parent,” Dawn reminded her.
t
Sarah continued rocking silently. Her eyes studied the designs in the tile. She knew how true Dawn’s words were, but could she muster enough faith to believe that somewhere out there, God had a solution to her problem? Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar cry from the adjoining room, “Want up. Want up.”
Sarah hurried to her daughter’s bedside. Charity’s face brightened as her mother leaned over to pick her up. The child’s legs hung limply from her torso. The opening of the spinal col-umn that was closed soon after her birth was just below her armpit, and Charity had no feeling or movement below that level.
“Hi, Mommy,” she greeted. “Want dolly.”
Sarah smiled as she hugged her daughter and leaned over to fetch the Raggedy Ann doll in the corner of the bed. She had purchased the stuffed doll at the local discount store and had given it to Charity for her second birthday. Since that time, Charity and Raggedy Ann had been inseparable, and Sarah had taken pride in selecting a toy that would meet her daughter’s need to cuddle. Little by little, Sarah was learning how to care for her daughter, and her goal was to have total custody of Charity by the child’s fifth birthday. At that time, she hoped to have completed her associate’s degree as a computer technician and obtained a well-paying job.
Sarah carried her daughter into the playroom and took Charity’s favorite storybook from the shelf. Returning to the rocking chair beside Dawn, Sarah quietly read the all-too-familiar tale to her daughter. After completing the book, the young mother picked up a plastic game board and began pointing to each of the primary colors and saying its name slowly. Charity was quick to imitate her mother’s sounds and was beginning to make the association between the color and its name.
After at least fifteen minutes of providing undivided attention to her daughter, Sarah turned to the director of the center. “Dawn, it’s amazing how many words she’s learned. I may be prejudiced, but Charity seems to be smarter than any of the other kids here.”
Dawn smiled at the young mother’s innocent pride. They had been monitoring the child’s language development to help determine if there had been any brain damage from the hydro-cephalus, but so far, Charity’s language skills were average for her age group. “The specialists have been extremely pleased with her development,” Dawn assured her. “Tomorrow her oc-cupational therapist will be here at two o’clock. Would you be able to come a little early and be here when she works with Charity? She’ll be able to answer more of your questions about her development.”
Sarah took a deep breath. “I promised my study group I’d meet with them at three o’clock tomorrow to work on a boring debate about the International Space Station. I don’t know what to do. I’ve got to get a good grade in my political science class, but I also want to be a good mother to Charity.”
Dawn patted Sarah on the arm. “Don’t put a guilt trip on yourself,” she reminded her. “If you don’t see the therapist to-morrow, she’ll be here again next week. Maybe she’ll have even more details for you then.”
Sarah nodded her head. “I know,” she sighed, “but I’d really like to talk with her as soon as possible. I’ll make some phone calls tonight and see what I can do.”
Dawn laid the child she was holding on the play mat, ex-cused herself, and went to the kitchen to check the progress of the evening meal. Sarah laid Charity on the mat on the opposite corner. In the center of the mat was an assortment of toddler toys. The two children began scooting toward the toys, pulling with their arms and dragging their limp legs behind them. Sarah watched with amazement. Even though neither one had feeling nor movement below the waist, they both were learning to adapt to their limitations and overcome them.
Sarah’s eyes widened as she glanced at her watch. She hurried to the kitchen door and caught Dawn’s attention while she was checking the day’s shopping list. “Time got away from me again,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to have to run so I can catch the five o’clock shuttle back to the campus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye now,” Dawn shouted as Sarah hurried out the door.

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