Saturday Morning (36 page)

How different her life had been, BG, Before Gregor. But before Florida, back in New Jersey.
Herbert, why did you have to go and leave me like you did? Sometimes I get so mad at you that if you weren’t dead, I’d have to kill you. And you better not be in purgatory either, because I need you to go directly to the Head Man to get all this straightened out. Looks to be beyond anyone’s power but Him. He could send a few angels, had He a mind to.

She sighed and turned her pillow again. Perhaps she should just get up. She could work in the office without bothering anyone.

I need to write to Nadia. A postcard, that would do it. And get another change-of address card. How could Gregor do this to me? How could I have been such a dupe?

Doctor Cheong stared at her over the clipboard in her arms.

“I know, I know. I have to stay down at least one more week.” Hope felt like she was six years old again, with a case of the chicken-pox, and her cajoling wasn’t working.

“What is your idea of staying down?”

“The sofa? I thought Roger could put a sofa in my office, and I could … ” She saw Dr. Cheong’s eyes narrow. “Please don’t say I have to stay in bed. I don’t know that I can take being cooped up in the apartment. I’ll stay down any way you want me to, as long as it’s not in the apartment.” Hope sucked her lower lip between her teeth, then huffed a sigh. She knew by Dr. Cheong’s raised eyebrows that she was considering not releasing her from the hospital.

“I don’t know … ”

“You know you can trust me,” Hope said, using their longstanding relationship as a ploy. “This baby is the most important person in my life right now. I’ll get rest, rest, and more rest. But can’t I walk out to the common room and watch the kids carve their pumpkins?”

Dr. Cheong sucked in her right cheek, appearing to give the request some thought. “Only if you promise to stay on the couch once you’re there.” She raised her hand and shook her finger. “I mean it, Hope. Pumpkins and bathroom breaks are the only reason to have
your feet on the floor.” She jotted a note and glared over her half glasses. “And keep those to a minimum. Otherwise, there will be a potty chair by your bed.”

“Yes, ma’ am.”

Roger leaned against the doorframe and scowled at Hope. “Are you giving her a problem?”

“Not me,” Hope answered. “I wouldn’t do that.” She stuck out her lower lip in a pout. She knew she was acting like a scolded teenager, but when she thought about all she had to do, it made her want to tear her hair out, one braid at a time.

“All right.” Dr. Cheong turned to Roger. “You may take your cranky wife home, and may God have mercy on you and everybody else at J House.”

Hope gasped in mock surprise. “That’s no way for a doctor to talk.”

Dr. Cheong leaned over, grabbed Hope’s right ankle, and squeezed it. “When said doctor has been your friend as long as I have, I have full liberty to say what I want. I’ll get your chart turned in, and as soon as the nurse comes back with your discharge papers, you can leave—by wheelchair.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hope saluted.

Dr. Cheong shook her head, then threw Hope a departing smile and patted Roger on the shoulder.

Roger crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “Anything new I need to know?” He kissed his wife, lingering over her lips, before kissing the tip of her nose.

“Oh, I’m sure the warden will leave detailed instructions.”

“Feeling a bit prickly, are we?”

“No, we aren’t the one lying in bed. I feel fine. I feel like an idiot. I have tons to do.”

“Not as much as you think. The Girl Squad pitched in and whittled your paperwork down to one small stack.”

“But how—?”

“Those are some very intelligent, hard-working women. What they didn’t know how to do, they left, and that amounted to one small stack.”

Hope couldn’t fathom a clean desk with only one small stack of paperwork. She would have to see it for herself to believe it. She felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Those stacks of forms, rules, regulations, and documentation meant that she could put hours and hours back into her life. Not for a minute did she think she wouldn’t be able to locate the papers if she needed them. Clarice had developed a filing system that even Celia had been impressed with—and willing to learn.

“I do have one piece of interesting news. Blakely Associates upped their offer by a hundred thousand dollars.”

Hope stared into her husband’s eyes. “Good thing we own tide. If the church still had tide, we’d be looking for a new home tomorrow.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m wondering if looking for a new home might just be a good idea. We haven’t had one offer of help.”

“I thought we made a firm decision on this.”

“We did, but time is running out, and we’re running out of options.” He took her hand in his and stroked her fingers with his other hand. “I just want you to think about it, that’s all.”

Her eyes caught and held his. “Those people are sharks. They … ”

Roger lifted a finger to silence her. “I’m not talking about them. Believe me, they aren’t the only ones interested in buying J House.”

They talked awhile longer, and an hour later, Roger looked at his watch. “I think I’ll go check on those discharge papers.”

When he finally held open the door to their apartment, exhaustion rolled over Hope like a tidal wave. She could hear children playing in
the common room, but she had no desire to see them. She dropped to the edge of the bed and slid her feet out of her sandals before lying back on the pillow. She could hear Adolph bark as Roger let him out of the run, then she heard his toenails clicking on the hall floor. He whined as he approached the bed.

“I hear you, big dog. How are you?” She laid her hand palm up on the bed, and he laid his muzzle on it. She could hear his tail swishing the floor. After a moment, he wiggled closer, put his paws up on the spread, and stretched his neck out to kiss her cheek.

“Good dog, Adolph. I’m all right.” She patted his broad head and accepted his snuffles. “I know, I smell like hospital.”

Roger came in, carrying her bag. “Do you want something to eat?”

Hope kept her eyes closed. “Not now, thanks. I’ll sleep for a bit, and then I want to talk with Celia.” She turned over on her side and smiled at the scent of lavender that permeated her pillow from the sachet she’d placed underneath it. It was so much more comforting than the disinfectant smell of the hospital sheets and pillows.

“Come on, boy.” Roger snapped his fingers.

Hope could hear the dog’s tail thumping the floor. “You know he’s not going to leave me.”

Roger muttered something about how even the dog didn’t listen to him, then carefully closed the door behind him.

She woke to the sound of small children giggling—close by—and Adolphs snores. He was stretched out on the bed beside her.

“All right, you monkeys, what’s going on?” Hope kept her eyes closed. Adolph thumped his tail. Another giggle, and the door clicked shut.

Hope tossed back the throw someone had put over her and headed to the bathroom. While she felt fine, still she dreaded finding evidence that she was bleeding again.

No spots. She heaved a sigh of relief.
Lord God, thank You for protecting this baby.
She glanced in the mirror and made a face. Talk about bed head. Braids or not, she had hair sticking out every direction. Would Dr. Cheong consider a shower too much, after all she’d done today already? “God’s love surrounds you, little one, little one.” The beginning of a new song floated through her head, complete with tune. Once back in bed, she lifted her Bible from the nightstand, propped pillows behind her, and flipped to Psalms. Surely since God could see David hiding in a cave, He would keep this little life hidden and safe in the womb until the time came for birth.

She read Psalm 22 again, then turned to 139. “
For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb.”
She closed her eyes and laid her clasped hands on the open Bible.
I praise You. In Your time, oh Lord. In Your time. Forgive my restlessness. You, who know all thing, for some reason You think this is necessary. Right now, I commit these months to You and to this child. I rest in Thee.

A feeling of being totally loved welled up so fiercely in Hope that tears overwhelmed her sniffs and rolled down her cheeks. No matter how many times she blinked and sniffed and wiped them away, the deluge continued. No sobs, no sorrow. Just liquid proof of pure joy.

Roger peeked around the door. “What’s wrong?” Seeing her tear-streaked face, he rushed to the bed, concern warring with terror in his eyes.

“Nothing. I’m just so full of joy, it’s brimming over, and I”—she sniffed again—“c-can’t stop it.”

“Ahh, joy?”

She reached for his hand and laid her cheek against the back of it. “Remind me of this when I get all grumbly and frustrated.”

He sat down beside her and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “Thank God. You scared me out of ten years’ growth.”

“Can she come out now?” Alphi’s voice was a loud whisper.

“Yes, she can come out now,” Roger said, his tone mocking the little boys excitement.

Hope smoothed her hair back and walked slowly to the door. “Are you sure I can come out?”

More giggles.

Hope opened the door to the hallway and gave Alphi a hug, which made him blush and sputter. “Lead the way, mon,” she said. He took her hand as if afraid she might break.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked, looking up at her, his little face full of concern.

“I’m going to be just fine.” She ruffled his hair. “Something sure smells good.”

“Mrs. C been cookin. Now close your eyes.”

Mrs. C? Clarice? Hope did as told, letting Alphi guide her.

“Okay!” he said a moment later, then tugged on her arm as though it was a pull string to make her eyes open.

All the shelter folk, her three new best girlfriends, Starshine, and several of their street people regulars clustered to the side. The dining room tables had been moved into the main room, all now decorated with carved pumpkins, cut-out paper leaves, and twining ivy. Every person wore a face painting of some kind, the children from lovely fairies to black cat whiskers and paper ears.

Hope stood still at the entrance to the room, looking from one smiling face to the other. This was what love is all about. Determined not to get overly emotional, she pasted a smile on her face and said, “Hey!”

A chorus of “hey’s” came back to her.

The children ran up to her, grabbed her around the waist, and hugged her. “When it gets dark, we gets to light the punkins.” Ophelia stood in front of her, her eyes dancing as if lit by candles already.

A dozen or more pumpkins sat on the tables. Some had been carved with ghoulish faces, some with happy faces, some with goofy faces. “Who carved all these pumpkins?”

“We did.” The announcement was universal.

“That’s where you sit.” Alphi tugged on her hand and led her to a sofa with pillows and a throw. “So you can be part of our party.” He seated her with a flourish.

Dinner passed with giggles and only two spilled drinks. Everyone inhaled the pans of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and Jell-O Jigglers—Jell-O shapes of green and orange.

“Dessert is after the party, so everyone pitch in for cleanup.” Mrs. C’s voice could be heard easily above the chatter.

Hope glanced from Roger to Andy and Julia. “Who put her in charge?”

“Didn’t you hear? Clarice and Celia worked out some sort of a truce.” Roger finished off the last drumstick.

“Thank You, Lord.” Hope glanced heavenward.

Roger leaned closer to her. “Clarice is a pretty amazing woman,” he said. “One night Tasha had a flashback, and she and Cassandra handled it by themselves.”

Hope was impressed. “Are you sure that’s the same terrified woman we took off the streets, what, just a little more than three weeks ago?”

“Closer to four, but yes.”

Julia wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Wait until you see your office. We all worked to go through all that paperwork, but it was Clarice who organized the effort. I don’t think she sleeps.”

“Perhaps no sleep is better than being homesick.” Andy picked up Hope’s plate. “Would you like anything else?”