Who Is My Shelter? (46 page)

“Gabby, wait,” Jodi said. “I wanted to ask you something. That whole business about Will Nissan needing to move out of his grandmother's condo so Lucy can move in—Estelle told me he needs someplace to stay till something opens up in student housing at semester break. What do you think about us offering to let him stay with us after Philip moves out? Amanda will be coming home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but there's Josh's old room—where Philip is staying now.”

My little snit about Philip not coming to church dissolved. “Oh, Jodi. That's a fabulous idea. He's such a nice kid—I know he wouldn't be any problem.” I gave her a hug. “You and Denny are angels, did you know that?”

“Or selfish.” She grinned. “We might be the ones ‘entertaining angels unawares'—like the Bible says. And speaking of angels . . .” She jerked her eyes in the direction of Harry and Estelle, who were busy serving coffee to a cluster of nosy folks who clustered around them, probably wanting to confirm that the engagement ring was back on her finger. “Methinks a few angels were working overtime on Estelle and Harry's case this weekend.”

We laughed—and then she pulled me into a “prayer hug,” whispering a blessing into my ear for our first-ever House of Hope Yada Yada Prayer Group that evening. “You can't imagine how excited we Yada Yadas are about our new offspring.” She giggled.

Edesa had suggested we meet in Precious and Tanya's apartment, since we'd been meeting at their apartment for the weekly household meeting, and meeting in Celia and Shawanda's apartment might feel like pressure on Shawanda, when she'd sounded iffy about whether she wanted to come or not. Of course, there was the matter of who's-gonna-watch-the-kids-and-where. We finally all chipped in to pay Sabrina ten bucks to watch the under-ten crowd in my apartment—much to P.J.'s dismay—but it worked out because they put in an old video of
A Bug's Life
, which kept them all entertained for the duration.

Shawanda did come with Celia, saying she'd try it out but not promise anything. “Let us worship
El Señor
as we begin,” Edesa encouraged as the six of us women gathered. And she simply began to pray aloud, thanking God for His salvation, for His faithfulness, for His constant watchcare. Precious and Celia both joined in, praying aloud, while I prayed silently—I still wasn't used to this everybody-praying-at-once form of worship. To transition, Edesa led us in a simple chorus of “Oh, How I Love Jesus,” which most of us knew.

Then it was time for sharing prayer requests. “Gotta pray for Sabrina,” Precious said. “She 'bout ready to pop that baby. Was hoping he would wait till winter break so she wouldn't miss the last few weeks of school, but he actin' like he want outta there.”

“So it's a boy?” Shawanda wanted to know. “Sabrina got a name yet?”

“We can talk names another time,” Edesa said. “Right now, let's hear from everyone about what we need to pray for.”

Tanya was concerned that Sammy didn't have a daddy—and she had no brothers to be active uncles. “He needs somebody to teach him how to be a man—a good man,” she said, getting teary.

Celia asked prayer for her daughter, that she'd get drug-free and be the mother she was supposed to be for Keisha. Shawanda passed, saying things were “fine.” Edesa asked prayer for Gracie's adoption, which still hadn't been finalized. I didn't know how much to say about Philip, since only Edesa and Precious knew anything more than that we were separated. So I just said, “I want to thank God for answering a lot of prayers for my boys' dad, but ask you all to keep praying for him. He's looking for an apartment and needs a job.”

And then we prayed, simple prayers for one another. Celia prayed for Shawanda, too, even though she hadn't asked for anything, and the girl seemed touched by it. And I added, “Lord, thank You for Josh and all the hard work he's doing on 3B, and for the way he keeps this building ship-shape. And, Father, show us who is the next homeless mom to move into the House of Hope when that apartment is ready, because You are creating a family here. Give us open arms to love and serve our new sisters, whoever they may be.”

Our prayer meeting lasted only an hour, less time than the movie playing in my apartment, but since it was only sixish, I said the kids could stay and finish. Turning down the volume on the TV set, I stopped by the phone to listen to a couple of messages. The first was from a telemarketer, which I cut off in mid-sentence, and then let it go to the second message.

“Gabby? What's going on?” Oh no! Lee! I'd forgotten to call him again! “You were going to call me and let me know when we could see each other this weekend. If you don't want to see me, I wish you'd call and tell me, rather than just giving me the silent treatment. So . . . ball's in your court. But, Gabby”
—his voice actually got tender on the answering machine—
“let's not ruin a good thing. You and me.”

I leaned my forehead against the wall. “Oh God,” I groaned, “what am I going to do?”

To my relief, when I finally did call Lee, I got his voice mail. Once again I apologized, told him I hadn't intentionally not called him, but I was up to my eyeballs dealing with things at Manna House and the House of Hope and, I admitted, with issues surrounding Philip's recovery. “Please be patient with me, Lee. I don't mean to ignore you. But I've got a lot of things to figure out. Don't call me right now—but I will call you sometime soon. I promise.”

I felt better after that, being honest with Lee and putting him “on hold” for the time being, rather than setting up expectations and letting him down.

But I got another surprise when Dandy and I got to work on Monday: Cordelia Soto and her kids were back on the bed list. “Dandy!” screeched Trina and Rufino, her first and second graders, like twin trumpets. “Miss Lucy tol' us you were comin'!”

While the two dark-haired children fell all over the dog, I gave Cordelia a hug and gasped, “What happened? I thought you'd moved back to Little Village, with your brother or something!”

The Latina mother nodded, tears immediately puddling in her dark eyes. “
Sí
, I did. And
mi hermano
was good, wanted me to stay. He said
la familia ayuda a la familia
—you know, family helps family. But he's got a new girlfriend, Norwegian or something, one of those real blondes with white lashes, ever seen that? Anyway, she was all in my face about crowding the apartment, always saying, ‘Shut up' to the kids . . .” Cordelia shook her head. “Couldn't take it anymore, Miss Gabby. I don't want to stay where I'm not wanted.”

“Well, I want you,” I said firmly. “Let's go talk.”

“What do you mean?”

I grinned at her. “We've got another apartment open at the House of Hope. And just last night we were praying about who God wanted to move in. See? You're our answer to prayer!”

I started Cordelia on the necessary paperwork the city required, making sure she understood the apartment wasn't ready yet—a week or two at the most—and then went to check in with Lucy before staff meeting. When I asked how the visit to her sister Maggie's condo went, she shrugged. “Nice place. Ain't no room for me there, though. The kid's livin' with her—ain't right to kick him out.”

“Oh, Lucy, don't worry about that. He's a college student, he even said he'd like to live near campus. I think he was only living with his grandmother so she wouldn't be alone. But if you live with her, she won't be alone! That's what Maggie wants.”

Lucy just shrugged again. “Can't have no dogs, neither. Building rules.”

My exasperation level upped a few notches. “Well, you can't take care of Dandy on the street either. Either way, he's doing just fine with Paul.” Then my tone softened. “It'll all work out for the best, Lucy. You'll see.”

The next time Will and Maggie came to see Lucy, I pulled Will aside. “How did the visit go last week? Any progress in Lucy accepting Maggie's invitation to move in?”

“I think so.” He grinned. “We invited her for Thanksgiving dinner. By then I hope to have my stuff moved out of the bedroom so she'll know Nana really wants her to stay—oh! Did you know that the Baxters invited me to hang my socks up at their place till student housing opens up? Soon as Mr. Philip finds a place.” The young man laughed. “Kind of like musical chairs.”

Musical chairs
. I smiled at the analogy as he rejoined his grandmother and Lucy. Except, I thought, when God's providing the music, everyone gets a chair.

Philip called Tuesday night to tell me he'd found an apartment— a two-bedroom with a sun porch that he could use for an office. “I can move in right after Thanksgiving, so I'll get that stuff out of your basement either Friday or Saturday.”

“I'm glad, Philip—that you found an apartment, I mean. And work? Have you heard anything from your dad?”

“Funny you should ask. No, haven't heard anything about a Chicago division of the Fairbanks business—but then again, I didn't expect to. Those wheels will grind slowly, knowing the old codgers who sit on the board.” He snorted a little. “But you know Peter Douglass—guess he's on the board there at Manna House, and he's also a good friend of Denny Baxter and Harry Bentley. Anyway, Denny says he's looking for someone to manage his new products division at Software Symphony. Looking for someone with business experience, not so much software development. Denny said he'd put in a good word for me. What do you think?”

What did
I
think? I blinked back a few tears. Philip asking me what
I
thought about a job possibility was like a gully gusher after a long drought—
that's
what I thought.

chapter 44

Thanksgiving . . .

When I peeked out the front windows of the sunroom Thursday morning, it looked like just another cloudy day in Chicago with periods of rain. But as the day progressed, the temperature hit the upper fifties and the sun poked through from time to time. Not too bad for the end of November.

I got up early to make the cornbread dressing and stick the turkey in the oven—basted with butter and rosemary and covered with cheesecloth, just like my mother used to season it—and had some quiet time curled up on the window seat with my prayer journal and coffee before the boys got up and House of Hope family guests started to arrive.

We'd agreed to start our progressive dinner around two o'clock, but the front door buzzer was ringing by noon, with the senior Baxters and Josh's sister, Amanda, arriving, carrying pies and various snacking treats as their contribution to the feast. Philip came with the Baxters and showed up with flowers—brilliant yellow, orange, and rust-colored mums—not just for me, but four bouquets, which he delivered to each household. “Nice touch,” I teased. “Flowers will buy you dinner.”

Celia's daughter showed up, sober as far as I could tell, and ten-year-old Keisha clung to her mother like an extra appendage, preening like a peacock every time she introduced her to someone else. “This my mama, her name is Cissy.” Cissy seemed embarrassed, but at the same time pleased to be included as part of the family holiday. From what Celia had said, it'd been many years since they'd spent a holiday together.

The only family member who showed up at Shawanda's request was a cousin . . . male. I gave him a good once-over to make sure he wasn't her midnight visitor masquerading as a relative, but DeWayne Dixon seemed legit, even brought a couple gallons of fruit punch to go with the molded Jell-O salads and Celia's homemade dinner rolls that apartment 2A was providing. It was good to see him playing around with Bam-Bam and Dessa, who clung to his legs like leeches and kept demanding piggyback rides.

Precious didn't have any family in Chicago, so we made an exception and let her invite a girlfriend. “She been more a sister to me than my own family anyway,” Precious had sniffed. “Sabrina been callin' her Auntie Kim ever since she a baby.”

Tanya had invited an aunt and uncle who were supposed to come on the El from the South Side. When they hadn't appeared by the time we were ready to start our progressive dinner, Josh and DeWayne Dixon offered to walk to the nearest El stop to see if they'd gotten lost, but Tanya snapped, “Don't bother. Auntie Mae's always late to everything. If she and Uncle Dee show up— fine. If they don't show up—fine. I don't care.”

I felt bad for Tanya. It was obvious she did care. How could we be the family she so desperately wanted—and needed—for herself and Sammy? Made me realize the House of Hope couldn't fill all the empty spaces in the lives of our homeless moms. Sending up a quickie prayer—
Bring her Auntie Mae and Uncle Dee today, Jesus! Let her know You care!—
I headed for the kitchen to baste the turkey one last time.

My cell phone rang as I pulled the turkey out of the oven. I flipped the phone open. The caller ID said
Will Nissan
. “Will? What's up?” I had to stick a finger in my ear to cut out all the noise in the next room.