Child of Her Heart. Irene Brand

      “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