Who Is My Shelter? (41 page)

“Sure. I want to talk to you too. Just let me get these things started in the wash—you mind helping me get this cart downstairs?”

We stuffed everything washable in Lucy's cart into the two washing machines in the small laundry room on the lower level. Ten minutes later we were back in Shepherd's Fold, which we now had to ourselves since everyone had gone to supper. Dandy was still shivering, so Will actually sat on the floor and let Dandy curl up close to him, head in his lap.

“Mrs. Fairbanks, that banana cake you made last weekend— that was for Miss Lucy's birthday?”

I nodded. “November third. Born in 1926. Turned eighty last week.”

“And that prayer she was saying out in the beach house . . .”

I nodded again. “She told me her mother said that prayer every time they moved into ‘new digs,' as she called them, which was sometimes every few months. A migrant family, following the crops.”

Will stared at me. “And her name, Lucy . . .”

“Real name Lucinda. Lucinda Tucker. Does that last name ring a bell with you?”

He practically gasped. “That's the family name! I used it in my Internet searches. And Nana has a couple of brothers, my great-uncles. Their last name is Tucker.” He looked at me in wonder. “So this Lucy . . . Lucinda . . . you think—?”

“I think she could well be your grandmother's missing sister. Maybe she changed her name from Cindy to Lucy . . . Lucinda could be either.”

Will wagged his head slowly. “Unbelievable! To think she's been here all this time.” He stroked Dandy's still matted and muddied fur for several long moments. Then he looked up at me again. “Does she know? Have you said anything?”

“Nope. Didn't even suspect it until you said that thing about the banana cake last weekend. I asked Josh to find out a little bit more about your missing great-aunt when you two had coffee together the other day, but he wasn't a very good sleuth. Except you did tell him your Great-Aunt Cindy had a November birthday. So then I started adding all the bits together. Wanted to tell you—and then Lucy up and did a disappearing act yesterday! I thought I'd lost my chance. So when you showed up today . . .” I shrugged.

“I've got to tell my grandmother!” Will scrambled to his feet, startling Dandy. “What do you think, Mrs. Fairbanks? What should we do? How should we get them together? Do you think Lucy would go with me to meet my grandmother?”

I shook my head. “Not likely. Besides, she's had a setback with that ankle of hers.” I thought a moment. “Do you think your grandmother would come here? I could talk to Lucy first, kind of prepare her.”

“Tomorrow? Could we do this tomorrow?” Will was agitated, excited. “As long as Nana has looked for her sister, I don't want to wait another day!”

Paul was excited to see Dandy when I got home, but glared at me when he saw how muddy and matted he was. “You said he was fine, Mom. He's not fine! Look how he's shivering. I'm gonna give him a bath.”

“Fine.” I grinned. “Just give me a chance to hop in the shower first to get all this mud off
me
. Then you can have the tub—if you clean it afterward!”

P.J. said his dad had called and left a message that he'd arrived safely. Wrapped in my robe and warm slippers after my shower, I punched Play on the answering machine and listened to Philip's short message saying he'd call tomorrow to talk to the boys. But hearing his voice reminded me of the note Will Nissan had brought me—before all the drama of hunting for Lucy had crowded everything else from my mind.

Chewing a piece of leftover pizza at the kitchen table, along with a cup of hot tea, I opened the note. It was dated
Thursday, 10:00 p.m
. Last night.

Dear Gabby,

I want you to get this note sooner rather than later, so I'm hoping Will can deliver it tomorrow. First, I want to say thank you for saying you forgive me for all the pain I've caused you. It's more than I deserve and it can't have been easy. But it means more to me than I know how to put into words. I hope to earn that forgiveness by being a better man than I've been in the past.

Earn my forgiveness? Didn't Philip realize none of us can
earn
forgiveness? At least, the only way I'd been able to forgive
him
was realizing that Jesus forgave all of us “while we were still sinners”— there was a Bible verse that said that somewhere. I was glad he wanted to become a better man. But he'd soon realize that wasn't going to happen without a lot of help. God's help.

I pushed the cold pizza away, wrapped my hands around the warm mug of tea, and continued reading.

. . . Also, you caught me off guard when you said the breakdown in our marriage wasn't all my fault. I wasn't expecting that. The decisions you made without telling me and the lack of communication did upset me a lot, so I deeply appreciate what you said. But one thing you said hit me hard. You said you didn't talk to me because you were afraid I'd say no to everything you wanted to do. That's what hit home. I didn't see it, couldn't hear it—until now. But staying with the Baxters this past week opened my eyes to a lot of things. Denny's a YES man! Everything Jodi suggests, he tries to make it happen. Never seen anything like it! She's the same way. It's like they bend over backward to keep the other one happy. Doesn't always work out, but the fact that they know the other person tried seems to make it OK.

Made me realize I never saw that in my home growing up. I'm so sorry, Gabby. Sorry for all the NOs I've thrown at you if it didn't suit me. Guess I've been a pretty selfish guy. Wish I could do it all over, things might be different now.

Better go. It's getting late. At least I don't have to pack since I'm basically living out of my suitcase anyway!

Once again the note was just signed, “
Philip
.”

I'd been so absorbed reading Philip's note that I didn't realize the house phone had been ringing until I heard the answering machine click on. Jumping up from the kitchen table, I ran through the dining room and down the hallway to catch the call— but stopped when I heard Lee's voice leaving a message.

“. . . on your cell but you must not have gotten my message. Would like to see you this weekend sometime. Call me, okay? Talk to you soon
.”

I could have snatched up the phone and caught him before he hung up—but something stopped me. My emotions were too stretched and thin to talk to Lee right now. I let the machine click off and headed back down the hall. I'd call Lee later. Tomorrow maybe. Or . . . maybe not.

chapter 39

I woke up Saturday to the familiar sound of loud thumps going down the outside stairs in back of the six-flat as Maddox Campbell moved out of 3B. Clouds still covered the city, but at least it wasn't raining on the movers. I ran upstairs at one point to say good-bye to his wife and mother, but no women were to be seen—just a sweaty crew of dark-skinned men, mostly Jamaican, lugging out boxes and furniture. It was obvious the women had been at work, though. Boxes were stacked neatly in each room, the kitchen appliances had been scrubbed—even the inside of the refrigerator— and the old, scratched wooden floors looked as if they'd been waxed and shined.

I did catch Maddox as he came back for more boxes, his dreads caught back in a thick ponytail, and shook his hand. “Best wishes to you, Mr. Campbell. I'm sorry I couldn't renew your lease. But if I
was
going to rent out these apartments, I would want to have good tenants like you.”

The man nodded soberly. “Tank you, Miss Fairbanks. You a good woman. Good heart. Good head—under all dem crazy red curly-Qs.” He grinned. “But why you not have a man? If you interested, I got two or t'ree who be good men. Hard workers. No gangbangers or Rastas.”

It was hard not to giggle, but I was saved by my cell phone, which rang just then. So I just smiled at Mr. Campbell, thanked him for the compliment, and flipped open the phone as I scurried back down the two flights of stairs.
Huh!
Just what I needed right now—a matchmaker with dreadlocks!

The call was from Will, saying he could bring his grandmother by Manna House around two o'clock, which meant I needed to get over there earlier than that to talk to Lucy. I'd also promised her I'd bring Dandy back today, much to Paul's dismay. He'd not only given the dog a bath the night before but had brushed Dandy's yellow coat until it lay silky and smooth.

“Good job, kiddo. He looks like a different dog,” I said, giving Paul a hug. I wanted to tell my tenderhearted son I was going to confront Lucy about her inability to take care of herself and Dandy on the street in the winter, but I didn't want to get his hopes up about taking care of the dog. And who knew what was going to happen when Will and his grandmother met Lucy?

Right after lunch I changed into slacks and a sweater, left the boys with a list of chores to do and a promise we'd go see a movie later, and showed up at Manna House with Dandy while lunch cleanup was still going on. Several residents were playing cards and board games in Shepherd's Fold, a few were reading old magazines, and others were just sitting. I could hear the TV blaring all the way from the TV room.

Lucy, however, was snoring on a couch in a corner of the main room, her left foot propped up on a stack of pillows, the ankle wrapped once again with an elastic bandage until the new swelling went down. I hesitated to wake her, but Dandy had no such qualms, putting his paws up on the couch cushions and licking her face.

“Umph . . . uh . . . wha—?” Lucy woke, startled. “Oh, heh heh, hey there, Dandy.” She tried to sit up, but fell back. “Dagnabit! These old muscles don't bounce back like they used to.”

“That's okay. You take it easy.” I found a few more throw pillows and propped her up with a little help—hindrance was more like it—from Dandy.

“Say, now, don't you look fancy,” Lucy murmured, stroking the dog's head. “That Paul, he sure does know how to purty you up.”

I sat down on the other end of the couch, taking care not to jostle her foot. “Something I want to talk to you about, Lucy. About you and Dandy—”

“I know, I
know
!” The old lady threw up a hand. “Been thinkin' 'bout it all night. Dandy just couldn't stop shiverin' after he took a dunk in th' lake. Tell you the truth, Fuzz Top, I was skeered—skee-red he was gonna get pneumony if somebody didn't come along an' find us purty soon. Woulda walked him back here myself if I hadn't twisted my ankle again.” She leaned over and waggled the dog's ears with both hands. “Guess I been an old fool, Dandy, thinkin' you an' me could make it out on the streets this winter.” Her voice drifted and she looked away, almost as if she'd forgotten I was there. “But he's good company, ya know? Gets mighty lonely sometimes.”

This wasn't going to be easy. I cleared my throat. “I know. You've been good company for Dandy, too, Lucy. He was lonely after my mom died, and he loves you, plain to see that. But sometimes we have to do what's best for those we love, not just what we want, and I think we need a new plan.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she growled. “I know whatcha gonna say. Was gonna say th' same thing. Ya think Paul would mind watchin' Dandy over the winter, at least till this bum ankle heals and the weather gets warm again?”

I wanted to laugh.
Mind?
Not for a minute. Though I'd actually been going to ask if she'd be willing to
give
Dandy to Paul to be his own dog, not just take care of him for Lucy. But I didn't. It was going to be hard for Lucy to part with the dog, period. Maybe it was easier for her to think about it in stages.

“But it's not just Dandy I'm worried about,” I said. “You're eighty years old. It's not safe for you to still be out on the street in this kind of weather, Lucy—especially not with your ankle still weak. And it's only going to get worse, you know that. But I have good news.” I took a deep breath. “Someone's been looking for you—and I think he's found you. Someone who doesn't want you to have to live on the street anymore.”

Lucy squinted her rheumy eyes at me. “What in tarnation you talkin' 'bout? You not makin' any sense a'tall, Gabby Fairbanks.”

I scooted closer on the couch. “You know that nice young man who was with me when we found you yesterday?”

“Yeah. So?”

“His name is Will Nissan. He's Maggie Simple's grandson—”

“Maggie
who
? Don't know nobody named Simple. What kinda name is that?”

“Simple's her married name. But growing up her name was Maggie Tucker.”

I waited for this news to sink in, but Lucy just scowled and pinched her lips.

“Lucy?” I said gently. “I'm talking about Maggie Tucker, your
sister
. She's been looking for you for a long time—she and her grandson, Will. They're coming here to see you in about—” I looked at my watch. 2:05. “Well, any time now.”