Who Is My Shelter? (40 page)

I winced. Except Lucy and Dandy
were
somewhere out there in the cold and wet. What kind of shelter had they found?

“And sometimes we need a shelter like this—” Edesa turned and looked up at the mural painted on the wall of Jesus cradling a small lamb in His arms. “Someone to love us and care for us, to make us feel safe. But I think I can safely say all of us have been let down by people who should've been that kind of rock, that kind of shelter.”

Now the nods and bursts of agreement got more vigorous.

“But this psalm tells us that there is a Rock, a Shelter, a Strong Tower that will always be there for us. And that is Jesus. Here, listen to this song . . . Sister Gabby, I think you will recognize this one.” Edesa cast a warm smile in my direction and pushed a button on a CD player plugged into the wall. The gospel song her young husband had once recorded for me filled the room. I listened, squeezing Estelle's hand beside me—or was she squeezing mine?

Where do I go . . . when there's no one else to turn to?
Who do I talk to . . . when nobody wants to listen?
Who do I lean on . . . when there's no foundation stable? . . .
When I need a shelter, when I need a friend
I go to the Rock . . .

Edesa's Bible study and the Dottie Rambo song stayed with me the rest of the workday, and I used up most of my box of tissues.
Huh!
I could be the poster child for a woman who'd been let down by the men in my life who should've been my protector, my shelter. I'd thought the well-connected Philip Fairbanks was the rock I needed after my ill-fated marriage to Damien Spencer right out of high school. But Philip had abandoned me too. Like many of the women here, Manna House had been a lifesaving shelter for me this year in more ways than one. But I'd also found my real Shelter when I'd renewed my faith in Jesus, the solid Rock who never moved even when I'd moved away from Him. The One who'd never stopped loving me and carrying me—even now. Even with Philip reaching out to me, and Lee Boyer pulling me away from him.

Obviously I couldn't have it both ways. In fact, I had to face the possibility I might lose both men. But whatever happened, I knew I still had Solid Rock beneath my feet.

“Thank You, Jesus,” I breathed for the hundredth time that day. Glancing up at the clock, I realized it was almost time for Sunnyside Magnet School to be out. I could still hear thunder rumbling overhead and was just deciding I should probably pick up Paul at school when my phone rang. “There's someone here to see you, Gabby,” Angela said.

Lucy and Dandy?
I scurried up the stairs and burst through the double doors into the foyer—and stopped. “Will?” Will Nissan stood in the foyer, glancing up at the stained glass windows that made Manna House look like a church from the outside, and peeking beyond me at the wall mural he'd glimpsed when I'd come through the double doors. “What are you doing here?”

The young college student grinned at me. “Hi, Mrs. Fairbanks. I, uh . . . well, here.” He handed me a square card envelope that looked a little worse for wear. “I gave Mr. Philip a ride as far as Circle Campus this morning, and he asked if I'd give this to you on my way home from classes. I think he wanted you to get it today rather than put it in the mail. Told me where you worked.”

“Thanks, Will.” I took the envelope. But Will showing up on the shelter's doorstep, today of all days, was giving me an idea.

He was still looking around, curious as usual. “I knew you worked at a women's shelter, but I've never actually seen one. Do you, uh, give tours?” He smiled that engaging grin of his.

“I'd love to—another time,” I said. “But right now, I have a huge favor to ask of you. Angela? Sign me out, will you? I'm going to pick up the kids from school and then I've got an errand to do. Will, come with me.”

Maybe because he was young and adventurous, Will waited good-naturedly while I got my raincoat and bag, then we hopped into my car without much of an explanation from me. I didn't want to say anything until after I'd picked up Paul and the other two kids and deposited them at the House of Hope. Fortunately, most of the House of Hope adults were home because of the constant rain, and Precious said she'd keep an eye on Paul until I got back.

“You okay?” She eyed me suspiciously.

“I'm fine. I owe you.” I ran back out to the car and jumped into the driver's seat just as the skies let loose another downpour. “Drat! I think Chicago's gonna float away if this keeps up.” I hoped Josh was checking the basement for flooding—especially with Philip's good furniture down there.

“So what's up?” Will still had that amused, curious look on his face.

I started the car and turned on the wipers and defroster. “Okay, here's the deal. We've got a missing person from the shelter— Lucy, the old woman I told you about?—and I need someone to help me find her.”

“The banana cake lady?” Will was grinning. “Still haven't met her.”

“That's the one. She's got my mother's dog and I'm, you know, worried about them.” But that's all I said. I still hesitated to tell Will my suspicions—not until the three of us could sit down and talk together. But we had to find Lucy first.

But where to look? I drove back toward Manna House and we circled the streets in the Wrigleyville North neighborhood for a while, even stopping from time to time to ask passersby if they'd seen an old lady with a dog and a wire cart. No . . . no . . . no.

“She's probably not out on the street—not in weather like this,” Will pointed out reasonably.

“I know!” I hit the steering wheel. “She could be anywhere!” I groaned aloud.

Pray, Gabby
.

The Voice in my spirit was so strong, I pulled over and stopped the car.
Duh!
What was wrong with me? Jodi Baxter was always telling me,
“Pray first, Gabby.”

“Will, hope you don't mind, but I'm going to pray.” And I prayed aloud, a simple prayer that the rain would stop, that we'd know where to look, that God would help us find Lucy. Then I started the car again.

Will had laughter in his voice. “My grandmother would like you. She's
always
praying.”

I grinned at him. “Well, I hope I get to meet her sometime. I could use some praying lessons.”

Will rode in silence as I turned north on Sheridan Road. “So, where are you going?”

Where
was
I going? “I know this sounds a little silly, but I'm going to the park up by Richmond Towers. That's where I first ran into Lucy last spring. Might as well start at the beginning. She used to hang out there a lot.”

I pulled into a parking space on the frontage road, realizing that the rain had slowed to a drizzle.
Thank You, Lord!
With Will being a good sport, I headed down the path and turned off at the bush where I'd first tripped over Lucy's cart. Maybe . . .

But no one was there. I looked around. The pedestrian tunnel! That could provide shelter.

But the tunnel under Lake Shore Drive was empty. And not that dry either. We sloshed through the puddles that had gathered in the tunnel, and I had to admit I was glad Will was with me. The place was eerie, with only about a third of the lights working, casting strange shadows as we passed.

Coming out on the other side, the lake was gray and wild, tossing up white caps everywhere and sending waves smashing against the rocks. Not really knowing what I was doing, I headed toward the only other shelter within sight—the Foster Avenue Beach House. The sand was soggy, and I wondered why I hadn't grabbed my gym shoes when I had the chance back at the six-flat. My leather ankle-boots were going to be a mess.

The beach house was shuttered and locked. Even the restrooms were locked for the winter. But between the men's and women's changing rooms was a wide walkthrough that housed a concession stand in summer. I pointed it out to Will. “Let's go through there.”

I thought I heard voices as we came close to the walkthrough and I hesitated. No telling
who
was in there. Drug dealers or gang-bangers for all I knew. I put out my hand to stop Will and strained to listen, but it was hard to hear anything with the constant splashing of waves against the shore. Will held up his hand, as if he understood the necessity to be careful and inched closer under the eaves that led into the walkway. I followed. We stopped again and listened as the voice—voices?—grew louder.

The sound was low-pitched and gravelly, almost sing-songy. Will and I crept a few steps closer. Man? Woman? Was the person drunk? It was hard to tell.

A few more steps, and we could make out the words.

“An' bless this house, oh Lord we pray. Make it safe by night an' day. Bless these walls, so firm and stout, keepin' want and trouble out. See, Dandy? We gonna be fine. Someone'll come. Don't worry. Bless the roof an' chimney tall, let Thy peace lie over all . . .”

My heart practically leaped into my throat. “Lucy!” I shouted. I grabbed Will's coat sleeve. “C'mon! That's Lucy!”

But Will didn't move, his eyes wide, his skin pale. “That . . . that prayer. That's my grandmother's prayer!”

chapter 38

I didn't have time to explain to Will what was going on. I rushed into the walkthrough, making out a couple of shadowy lumps bunched against the closed concession stand. “Lucy? Lucy, it's me, Gabby! And a friend.”

The smaller lump moved and a dog's snout poked out of a cocoon of ragged towels, whining. “Dandy, it's just me . . . good boy . . . good dog. Lucy, are you okay?”

The other lump moved, and as my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, Lucy's wrinkled face appeared from a similar cocoon. “That you, Fuzz Top? Heh heh, see there, Dandy? What'd I tell ya. Told ya somebody would come sooner or later . . .
oof
. Gimme a hand here, will ya?”

“Will! Can you help Lucy stand up? Calm down, Dandy. Easy boy . . .” Dandy was whining constantly and trying to lick my hand. I unwrapped the towels and other rags and realized the dog was soaking wet and shivering. Beside me, Will was undertaking a similar operation, untangling the old lady from layers constructed of blankets and odd pieces of clothing and then helping her to her feet.

“Lucy! Why is Dandy so wet? Are you soaked too?” I used one

of the damp, ragged towels to rub the dog all over, realizing I was getting myself muddy and wet in the process.

“Nah, I'm okay. But he chased a seagull into the lake as we was headin' for the beach house, got hisself all wet. Glad ya came, though—I twisted this bum ankle again tryin' to stop him. Maybe ya can take us back to the shelter to get dry.” She squinted at the young man who was trying to help her into a one-legged stand. “Who'd ya say this here kid is?”

Will finally recovered his voice. “My name's Will. I'm a friend of the Fairbanks. Your name's Lucy? Can you walk, Lucy? It's a ways to the car.”

“Well, I can if ya give me a hand. Stupid ankle . . . was doin' fine till ever'thing got all wet an' slippery—hey! Can't leave my cart. Need all them towels an' stuff too.”

The light outside was fading fast. Rolling my eyes in frustration, I gathered up the damp, muddy towels, blankets, and odd bits of clothing and stuffed them into the wire cart. Everything in there was going to need a thorough washing back at Manna House. At least the heavy rain had stopped. We inched our way out of the beach house walkthrough—Lucy leaning heavily on Will and half hopping on her one good foot, me pulling her rickety cart and holding Dandy's leash—and made our way across the soggy beach to the jogging path, heading for the pedestrian tunnel and my car on the other side.

It took us a good forty-five minutes just to get back to the car, and another fifteen to drive to Manna House and get Lucy up the steps and inside. The office and reception desk were closed, but Sarge was on duty and said Lucy's bed hadn't been reassigned. She'd make sure the old lady got into something dry and had supper, which was being served up that night by the Silver Sneakers, a group of charming retirees from the Jewish Center.

“She should get that ankle elevated and maybe packed in ice again,” I told Sarge on the side. “And tell Lucy I'm taking Dandy home with me to get a bath. I'll bring him back tomorrow. Just gonna get this stuff ”—I jerked a thumb at Lucy's wire cart—“into the washing machine first.”

As soon as Sarge disappeared into the service elevator with Lucy, I called P.J. on his new cell phone, told him I'd be late and could he get something to eat for himself and Paul? “Yes, you can order a pizza . . .
yes
, I'll pay you back. Be sure to tip the delivery guy. And tell Paul . . . uh, tell Paul that Lucy and Dandy came back to the shelter and they're fine, okay?” I rolled my eyes at Will as I flipped my cell closed. “One of these days I need to teach those boys how to cook!”

I realized the sandy-haired young man had said very little since we'd found Lucy and Dandy, though he'd been very helpful getting her back to the car and into the shelter. Now, kneeling beside Dandy, where he'd busied himself rubbing the dog dry, he looked up at me. “Uh, Mrs. Fairbanks, can we talk? You know, about . . .” He jerked his head toward the doorway where Sarge and Lucy had disappeared.