Who Is My Shelter? (37 page)

November birthday?
A tickle of excitement made me grin.
Margaret?
Lucy had said her sister's name was Maggie.
Could it be . . . ?
“Wait. You said his grandmother's last name is Simple? Maiden name or married name?”

Josh looked blank. “Uh, I don't know. Didn't think to ask.”

“Josh!” I threw up my hands. “What kind of sleuth are you? But it's got to be her married name, right? I mean, Will's her grandson, so she was probably married, and that generation of women always took the husband's name.” I frowned. “What we need to know is her maiden name—”

“More!” screeched Gracie, banging the plastic bowl I'd given her, empty now.

Josh pried the bowl from her fingers and jiggled the toddler in his arms. “Guess I should get Gracie home—she hasn't had supper yet.” He stood up from the table.

“Okay. Thanks for the info, Josh.”

We walked together toward the front of the apartment, and I remembered at the last minute to tell him about the tenants in 3B moving out that weekend. “That means more work for you, I know. Repairs, redoing floors, that kind of thing.”

But as I opened the front door for him, I realized he was still stuck on our other conversation. “The name thing,” he said. “Does it matter? Maybe the missing sister got married and has a different name now, too, which is why they can't find her.”

I scowled. Possibly, but if so, it was less likely that Lucy was the missing sister, since I'd never heard her say
anything
about a husband.

Josh jiggled the impatient Gracie. “Mind telling me what this is all about? Will wanted to know why I was asking, and since I didn't
know
why you wanted to know, I just said Manna House sees a lot of people and maybe we could ask around. But it sounded kind of lame.”

I grinned at him. “Good answer, though.”

“Uh-huh.” He looked at me funny. “I think you know something.” Then he sniffed. “Uh, is something burning?”

“Oh no!” I tore down the hall and jerked the scorched pan of rice and beans off the stove.
Now
what was I going to do for supper?

Mabel Turner was in her office with a wad of tissues when I got to Manna House Wednesday morning with Dandy. “Glad to see you back, lady.” I leaned into her doorway, not wanting to get too close, but Dandy pulled on his leash, whining. “Just a sec.” I unsnapped the leash and let the dog into Shepherd's Fold, even though I didn't see Lucy anywhere in the big room. “Go on, find Lucy,” I urged the dog, then went back to Mabel's office. “You feel up to coming to our household meeting tonight?”

Mabel blew her nose. “Maybe. Not promising, though. Everything okay with you?” Poor woman sounded all stuffed up.

“Um, we're all healthy.”

“Uh-huh. And?”

I rolled my eyes. Mabel was too perceptive. “Oh, just more drama going on with Philip.” I stepped into her office, closed the door, and leaned against it. “Not sure you're going to believe this.” I tried to bring her up to date on everything that had happened in the past few days—Philip moving out of the penthouse, staying with the Baxters while he looked for a cheaper apartment, his plan to pay off his debts and settle the lawsuits out of court by selling his half of his business to his partner.

Mabel's eyes had widened. “Whoa. That's major! Good news, right?”

I nodded. “No kidding. Never thought he'd ever agree to give up the business. But seems like he's finally dealing with the whole mess. And, well, another thing.” I hadn't really planned on telling her about Philip's letter of apology, not yet anyway, but it just came blurting out.

“My goodness, Gabby! Are we talking about the same man? The guy who kicked you out of house and home and all that? What happened?!”

Funny, Mabel's astonishment made me feel as if I'd stepped outside myself, listening to what I'd been saying through her ears—and it
was
amazing.
What happened? Good question!
But something Estelle said when I'd shown her the letter suddenly echoed in my head:
“I think God's got your man by the ear and he might actually be listenin'
.”

chapter 35

Mabel did show up for the household meeting at House of Hope that evening, bringing Jermaine with her, much to Paul's delight. The boys immediately began setting up Paul's electronic keyboard to do some “jammin'.”

“Mom!” P.J. hissed at me as I gathered up my folders and notebook. “Why do they get to take over the living room on your meeting nights? I can't study in my room when they're making all that racket!”

I touched P.J.'s cheek gently with the back of my hand. “I'm sorry, hon. I know it doesn't seem fair. But I don't think they'll bother you if you study in my bedroom in the back. This won't happen often. Ms. Turner won't be coming every Wednesday night, she's just helping us get started. Okay?”

P.J. shrugged off my hand. “Well . . . okay.” But as he lumbered off down the hall dragging his book bag, he gave me a half smile, as if he'd just needed reassurance that I understood
he
was the one having to make a sacrifice.

The door to 1A was open across the hall as I came out my door, and somewhere inside I heard Sabrina raising a fuss about why she had to babysit Bam-Bam and Dessa as well as Sammy and Keisha on Wednesday nights. “Why can't Shawanda get 'em to bed by eight o'clock like little Gracie? I got homework to do, too, you know!”

“Uh-huh,” I heard Precious snap back. “Girl, you been on the phone since you got home from school—and
now
you wanna do your homework?” Precious flounced into the hallway in a huff, but then stuck her head back into the apartment. “Besides! Sammy an' Keisha are big enough to help amuse the little ones. You just keep an eye out an' make sure they play together peaceful-like.”

Precious pulled the door shut behind her, muttering as we walked up to the third floor together. “
Humph
. Maybe that girl learnin' a thing or two about gettin' babies into bed at a decent hour. Makes me wanna scream when I see little kids outside at all hours of the night or gettin' trundled about till one or two in the mornin', just 'cause they stupid mom or dad wanna go party somewhere.”

As we walked into 3A everyone else affiliated with the House of Hope had already gathered in Edesa and Josh's front room—Tanya, Shawanda, and Celia Jones, as well as Mabel Turner—snacking on yogurt-covered peanuts and helping themselves to the tray of hot tea Edesa had prepared. But since we were all there, I asked Edesa to start us off with a prayer and then we got down to business. “Mabel, why don't you review our list of Rules and Expectations? Everyone's read and agreed to them, but this would be the time if anyone has questions or additions we need to make.”

Mabel had barely got through the list when Shawanda waved her arm in the air. “How come we can't have mens in the apartment after ten o'clock on weekends? You guys treatin' us like little kids.”

“You signed these rules and expectations, Shawanda,” I reminded her.

“Well, yeah. But you said we could ask questions. I'm just
askin
'.”

Mabel explained the reasons: for general safety in a building with mostly women and children, courtesy to their apartment-mate. “And because we're a Christian facility, Shawanda, and want to conduct the House of Hope in accordance with biblical principles. You're all single women and we don't want men coming and going at all hours of the night.”

My cheeks felt a little hot.
Oh Lord
. How close I'd come—more than once—to inviting Lee into the apartment “for coffee” after a date. I'd had my own reasons for not inviting him in—but I hadn't even thought about needing to be an example for the other single women in the building.

Shawanda wasn't finished. “Can we get us a kitty? Don't say nothin' in here 'bout pets. Dessa wanted ta keep that poor kitty she found under the back porch on Monday. Now it's gone an' she all heartbroken.”

I doubted the three-year-old even remembered Monday. But we opened the topic for discussion. The list of concerns got lengthy: residents with allergies; ability to pay for shots, food, and litter for cats; scooping poops for dogs; obnoxious barking; damage to furniture or floors from ill-behaved dogs or cats.

“Yeah,” Shawanda muttered, “but Miss Gabby here already got her a dog. Don't know what we need to keep talkin' 'bout.”

“Shawanda, taking in a feral cat is
not
the same thing as Dandy staying here. Besides, he's temporary,” I reminded her tersely. “Lucy sprained her ankle, remember?”

Mabel finally tabled the discussion “to be continued,” suggesting we form a small committee of staff and residents.
Humph
, I thought.
We also better get clear what rules are for residents and what rules are for staff
. Personally, I thought a dog or two owned by staff might be good security for the building, but allowing pets willy-nilly could get out of hand.

I reported that the tenants in 3B might be moving out this weekend, adding to our House of Hope apartments. But the apartment would also need renovation and repairs. We agreed to schedule another painting party on one of our household meeting nights soon. No, we didn't know who'd be moving in yet.

Just before we closed the meeting—we were still trying to keep them to one hour—Edesa said she had a proposal. “Some of you know I'm part of a women's prayer group we call Yada Yada, which meets every other Sunday evening. Estelle Williams is part of that group, too, and Jodi Baxter, Josh's mom, and Avis Douglass, the wife of the Manna House board chairman. Well . . .” The black Honduran woman beamed her infectious smile around the circle. “I was thinking it would be so
bueno
to start another Yada Yada Prayer Group right here at the House of Hope—on the
other
Sunday nights.”

“You givin' up the other one? Or gonna be part of both Ya Ya prayer groups?” Precious asked.

Edesa laughed. “Not Ya Ya . . .
Yada Yada
. It's actually a Hebrew word that's found in the Bible hundreds of times! It means ‘to know and be known intimately'—or something close to that. The way God knows us in Psalm 139. And yes, I'd like to be part of both groups. If God blesses this one as much as He has the original, well . . . none of us will be the same.”

Shawanda looked dubious. “Ya mean we'd hafta go? I ain't all that religious, ya know.”

Edesa shook her head. “No. Entirely voluntary. For anyone who would like time to pray together with other sisters.” She eyed her husband. “
Hombres
not allowed.”

Josh threw up his hands. “
No problemo
. I've got my own men's prayer group.”

“
Sí
, the Yada Yada Brothers.” Edesa laughed and gave her husband a hug.

Celia Jones spoke up for the first time during the entire meeting. “I'd like that very much. My kids are all grown, and there's not much I can do about some of the poor choices they've made. Keisha's mother, well, some would call my daughter a lost cause, which is why I have custody of my granddaughter right now. But I do know there's one thing I
can
do—an' that's
pray
.”

“Sí! Sí!
” Edesa cried. The others of us readily agreed. What was there to decide, anyway, if it was optional? But Edesa was so excited, she had tears in her eyes. “Oh,
mi amigas
, if you only knew how prayer can change the lives of all the women and children who come to live at the House of Hope! This may be the most important decision we ever make in this meeting!”

I thought the meeting had gone well. So far, Shawanda seemed to be settling in all right, though I wanted to check in with Celia privately to see how things were working out with sharing chores and Shawanda living up to her end of the responsibilities.

After saying good-bye to Mabel and Jermaine, I sent Paul to his room to finish his homework and knocked on the door of my bedroom to check on P.J. No answer, so I opened the door slowly. “P.J.? It's me.”

My oldest son was propped up on my bed, staring at a picture frame he held in his hands. I shot a quick glance at the bedside table. The photo of Philip and me was gone.

“Dad called,” he said.

I sat down on the foot of the bed. Shouldn't be surprised Philip had finally called. I still hadn't responded to his letter. He had to be wondering what I was thinking. I'd call him tomorrow. I owed him that much.

“What'd he say?”

“He said he's flying to Petersburg on Friday to talk with Granddad about some business stuff. But he wants to know if he can come over tomorrow night to see Paul and me. Wants you to call him.”

I nodded. “Of course he can. Would you like him to come for supper?”

P.J. shrugged. “I guess.” He stared at the picture some more, then turned it around and showed it to me. “Do you still love Dad?”