Who Is My Shelter? (45 page)

Another week. But so far nobody in the building had complained. “I guess so. But you did say one week and it's already been two.”

“I know. Guess I should have rented a storage locker. But at this point, I'd like to avoid moving it twice.”

An awkward silence hung between us for a few moments. I was just about to push him on whether he had a Plan B for a job when he said, “I've got some good news, though. My father has been surprisingly supportive of my decision to return to Chicago—Uncle Matt too. Told me I'd made the right choice to put family first. Not only that, they're calling a board meeting to talk about creating a division of Fairbanks Commercial Development in the Midwest, probably Chicago. If so, they'd want me to head it up.”

Furniture in my basement seemed a piddly concern compared to this news. “That's great, Philip! . . . I think. I mean, how do you feel about that? When you were working for your dad and uncle before, you were chafing at their traditional designs, feeling like they were stuck in the past.”

“Yeah, well, the old ‘if it ain't broke, don't fix it' mentality. You're right. It would be a challenge to work under the old Fairbanks business model. But I have to admit, it doesn't seem as important now to do my own thing. I had to eat crow just coming back here, admitting I'd messed up, asking their advice. But it wasn't so bad. It's hard to explain, Gabby, but there's a certain freedom in not having to be right all the time.”

I hardly knew what to say. My entire experience with Fairbanks men had been they were right and it was up to you to admit it. Not just the men—his mother too. It infected the whole family. If Philip could break
that
generational curse, I really would believe in miracles.

“—maybe teach some day,” Philip was saying.

“What? I'm sorry, Philip. What were you saying? I didn't catch that.”

“I asked if you'd heard anything from Will Nissan lately. Because I've enjoyed helping him with some of his student projects, and it made me think, maybe I'd like to try teaching at the college level some day. Architecture, maybe business . . . use my experience to develop a new generation of bright minds who are interested in city planning, commercial development, stuff like that.”

“That's . . . that's a fantastic idea, Philip. But you mentioning Will made me realize I haven't told you something amazing that's happened since you left. Will found his missing great-aunt!”

“Really? You're kidding me. I mean, how long has she been missing . . . sixty years? I would've bet the farm it was impossible. So tell me where they found her.”

By this time I was laughing. “Are you sitting down?”

I wish I could've seen Philip's face when I told him Will's missing great-aunt was none other than our own Lucy Tucker. I had to go over the various clues we'd pieced together before he believed me—and then all he could say was, “Unbelievable!”

Couldn't wait to tell Estelle about the latest revelations in Philip's reality show broadcasting from Virginia either. She'd wagged her head in serious disbelief on Thursday when I told her he'd turned down a generous job offer from his father and uncle because he wanted to “put family first.” “Might just change my mind about that man,” she'd murmured as we'd thrown the last of the vegetables into the soup pot.

But when she hadn't arrived at Manna House by mid-morning on Friday, I remembered she had a ten o'clock appointment to ask about extending Leroy's stay at the psychiatric nursing facility until she was able to find an apartment or house where she could take care of her son.

And she'd asked us to pray!

I scurried upstairs to catch Edesa before she started her Bible study, and the group of ten or so women who'd gathered took the request seriously. One called on Jehovah Jireh, God our Provider, to “make a way out of no way!” Another said, “An' we ast ya, Lord, to meet every need, known and unknown, for this poor boy an' his mama.” Monique prayed on task, asking God to give Estelle favor when she asked for more time to find an apartment. “An' lead Estelle to the exact apartment You've prepared for her and Leroy—not tomorrow, not next week, but
today
, Lord Jesus, because you
said
where two or three are gathered together in
Your
name, there You are in the
midst
!”

I squirmed a bit. Had to wonder how God felt about Monique telling Him exactly how our prayers should be answered.

Edesa's prayer was almost the flip side of Monique's, praying that Estelle would not “lean on her own understanding” in this situation but would trust
El Señor
to care not only for her son but for herself and Harry—“that precious couple,” she called them— as well.

Hoo boy
. I wondered what Estelle would think if she knew we were throwing prayers for her and Harry into the same pot with her request to bless the path she'd chosen for herself and Leroy.

An hour later the Bible study was disbanding and I was talking to Lucy—who hadn't exactly joined the Bible study circle but sat close enough to listen—about maybe getting a shower and into some fresh clothes before her sister and nephew arrived for their excursion that afternoon, when Estelle dragged in. Several of the residents said, “We prayed for ya, Miss Estelle,” and asked, “How's that boy of yours doin' today?” But she just shook her head, shrugged off her coat, and sank into one of the overstuffed couches in the big room. I excused myself to Lucy and sat down with Estelle. Edesa joined us a moment later.

“How'd it go?” I asked. Our diva cook didn't look too happy.

Estelle frowned darkly. “That Leroy! Unpredictable as ever. Told me he didn't
want
to live with me. ‘Stop treatin' me like a baby, Mama!' he said—right in front of the doctor an' two social workers! How is wantin' to do my duty as his mama, takin' care of my baby proper-like, and makin' sure no druggies or free-loaders take advantage of him, treatin' that boy like a baby?”

I repressed a smile. “He doesn't want to live with you? What does he want to do?”

“
Humph
. Told those social workers he wants to go live at that halfway house—the Lighthouse Care Center or whatever they call it—for folks with mental health issues. He said it'll be a peer group, people like himself who take care of each other.
Humph
. What do
they
know about what my baby needs? And those social workers didn't help a'tall! They nodded an' smiled an' said he was showin' good decision making.” She glowered at no one in particular. “Good decision making, my big toe. Sounded to me like he was just parroting things those social workers told him to say.”

“So what's going to happen?” I prodded.

“Well, he
thinks
he's movin' out of the nursing center tomorrow into that Lighthouse place. But all I need is a few more days, a week maybe, to find us a place to live. Then he'll change his mind, you'll see.”

Edesa and I looked at each other. The answer to our prayers was taking shape right before our eyes—and Estelle didn't see it.

“
Mi amiga
,” Edesa said softly, laying her hand on top of Estelle's. “Why are you insisting on finding an apartment for you and Leroy to live together?”

Estelle frowned. “Why? Because I need to take care of him, that's why. I wasn't there for him when he needed me, and look what happened! I won't do that again. Lord, forgive me!”

“But, Estelle, don't you see? God has provided a ram in the bush, just like He did for Abraham in the Bible! God tested Abraham, asked him to do something very hard. But God knew Abraham's heart and at the last minute provided a new plan—one that gave life to his son!”

I saw where Edesa was going and eagerly jumped in. I took Estelle's other hand. “God knows your heart, too, Estelle. He knows you'd do anything to help Leroy right now—even give up your engagement to Harry! But God is providing another plan for Leroy—a plan where Leroy will be taken care of properly, not living alone, but as an adult among peers. And He has a good plan for you too.” I couldn't help the smile that was spreading on my face. “God brought a good man into your life, Estelle. His name is Harry Bentley. And I, for one, do not believe God has taken him away from you.”

Estelle sat perfectly still on the couch, blinking from time to time as if trying to process what we were saying. I hardly dared to breathe, but after a minute or two I broke the silence. “Go to him, Estelle. Go to Harry now. I'll . . . I'll even do lunch for you.”

At the word
lunch
, Estelle looked at me with a start, as if the word had broken the spell. “Then you better get started, girl! What are you just sittin' there for?” She struggled up off the couch, grabbed her coat, and stuffed her arms into the sleeves. Heading for the double doors into the foyer like a runaway steam locomotive, she called over her shoulder, “Ham! Cheese! Sandwiches! Chips! Pudding! It's all in the fridge!”

And she was gone.

chapter 43

The weekend seemed to speed by like the El during rush hour, in spite of gray clouds, chilly temperatures, and occasional heavy rains, which were getting a bit dreary as far as I was concerned. Lucy wasn't back from her visit to Maggie Simple's condo by the time I left work Friday evening, which I hoped meant the visit was going well. Then Philip stopped by to see the boys early Friday evening on his way in from the airport, bringing gifts to P.J. and Paul from their grandparents.

I studied him as the boys eagerly opened their gifts—waterproof sport watches with features that included a timer, a chronometer, alarms, the works. Philip's dark-brown hair had grown back, and the scar on his head was nearly invisible now except for the inch that started on his forehead. All in all he was looking great. Even the desperate look in his eyes had given way to a kind of . . . peace.

“Oh yes, got something for you, too, Gabby.” Philip handed me a rectangular package wrapped in gold foil and ribbon.

I shook it. It rattled slightly. “Oh, ho! Bet I know what this is.” The ribbon and foil wrap came off in seconds. “Yay! Gourmet goodies!” I danced around with the package, which contained three jars of Virginia's finest cashews, roasted peanuts, and blackberry jam. Philip was grinning at me. “Mm, thanks,” I said. “You remembered my favorite snacks.” I felt I should offer something in return. “Do you want to stay for supper?”

He shook his head. “I better get going. I told the taxi to wait. C'mere, guys, give your ol' dad a hug. Wish we could do something tomorrow, but I need to get an early start looking for an apartment.”

I followed him out into the foyer. “Philip? We're having a Thanksgiving dinner here at the House of Hope on Thursday. Everybody's inviting family members. I know the boys would like to have you here. Can you come?”

For a few seconds Philip glanced away as if to get his emotions under control. Then he nodded. “I'll be here,” he said, hustling down the steps to the waiting cab.

Saturday was a blur with a lot of the usual on my to-do list: shopping for groceries, cleaning the apartment, folding laundry, and phoning my sisters for our weekly gabfest. I gave the boys a choice of cleaning their rooms or helping Josh Baxter start painting in 3B.
Ha
. So much for getting their rooms cleaned. I could hear their music blasting all the way down the stairwell to the first floor.

Precious knocked on my door just as I was leaving for the grocery store, holding up a jar with slips of paper in it. “Draw one. That'll be your Thanksgiving food assignment.”

I fished out a slip of paper. “What? Macaroni and cheese? What kind of Thanksgiving food is that? And greens? I don't know how to cook greens.”

She looked at me funny. “Girl, ain't no Thanksgivin' dinner without mac-an-cheese. If you wanna throw in somethin' the cowboys eat in North Dakota, too, feel free.”

“Who's doing turkey? I'll trade.”

Precious snatched the paper from me. “Oh, gimme that. Here. You can have Tanya's and my slip of paper, which has turkey an' cornbread dressing on it. We'll do the mac-an-cheese an' greens.” She flounced across the hall muttering something about “white folks' food,” but I didn't let it bother me. Turkey I could do.

I didn't hear from Philip Saturday or Sunday, and he didn't come with Jodi and Denny to SouledOut Sunday morning either. Not that I expected he would. Hoped, maybe. After all, he'd gone to church last week while he was in Petersburg.

“Just thank God for whatever baby steps you see, Gabby,” Jodi encouraged me after worship. “Right now, he's concentrating on one thing—finding an apartment big enough so he can have the boys sleep over on weekends, but not too big or too expensive.”

“Okay, fine.” I started toward the coffee pot. Not sure why I felt a little snitty.