We love Him because He first loved us. 1 John 4:19
“Bishop! Get Henry to put water in the kettle and heat it up.” Christmas Eve was not going as Stacy planned. “Abel, get me some towels. Susie, grab a bucket and clear the table in the common room. Quick.” Grunting, Stacy and Bishop lowered the girl onto the cleared table, and she used the tablecloth to cover her, leaving her injured leg exposed.
Bishop stared at his bloodied hands then at her. “Should we call 911?”
“No. No hospitals and no police. The girl asked for that before she passed out.” Stacy accepted a towel from Abel, one of their youngest residents, a runaway whom she was still convincing to return home after confirming that the person who made him feel unsafe—the live-in nanny—was gone. He agreed to return home in about a month.
As Abel ran into Henry on his way into the common room, the older boy grunted. “Watch where you’re going, Abel.”
“You too! Don’t talk to me like that,” Abel shot back.
“Guys, cut it out. I need some help here. You both come back here.” Stacy switched on overhead lighting. Getting the girl’s layered clothing off would be a task. The boys couldn’t be here for that. But they could help roll her to her side so Stacy could extract the object stuck in her leg. She suppressed the urge to start shaking as she began to doubt her ability to take care of the girl. “The hospital seems like a good idea.”
But the girl had been adamant. She’d seen the fear in her eyes, so engaging the hospital may not be good.
What if she made a mistake?
Or hurt her more?
“I think you should call the cops if she said not to call them,” Henry said, towel in hand.
“Wait, what if she escaped from danger and needs a place to hide?” Abel folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head up. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I mean, I watched it in a movie. Maybe that’s what happened to her.”
“Henry, please go to the pharmacy across the street from the other side of the park. I know the pharmacist there. He might be our next best option. Please tell him to come with you, and that it is an emergency.” Stacy thought fast. “Bishop, go and look out in the park. Sit there like you’re taking in some fresh air and watch to see if anyone seems like they’re looking for someone.”
Grabbing a towel, she soaked it in hot water, blew it cool, and began dabbing at the area around the wound. “In the meantime, Susie and I will help her out of her clothes, clean her up, and have her ready for when the pharmacist arrives. Go.” As the boys left, leaving her and Susie alone, they began peeling the girl’s sweaty clothes off her.
Lord Jesus, please help us help her. If trouble led her here, please keep that trouble away. Stacy easily sterilized the wound on her leg around the object protruding from it, but a wound on the girl’s arm caused her heart to skip a beat. “It’s a gunshot wound.”
Susie’s face blanched, and her hands clawed at Stacy’s arm as she swayed.
“She was shot?” Susie asked. The fifteen-year-old orphan had been shot earlier in the year when she’d refused to join a gang and instead fled her foster home. “Oh no.” Her face turned white, and beads of sweat rose on her clammy-looking forehead.
She staggered, nearly falling onto the armoire behind her, but Stacy caught her and settled her on a chair. “It’s alright, sweetie. I’m sure this is hard for you. But I need you to be strong. Remember, she’s the one in bad shape. She needs our help. You can help me until the pharmacist gets here. Okay?” As Stacy prayed Susie the emotional strength, relief spurred through her when Susie rose from the chair, though gulping too.
A quick nod tumbled her curly brown hair over her shoulders. “Yes, I can help. After all, someone helped me too.”
“Catch your breath first, and when you feel strong enough, come and help me. Meanwhile, I’m going to try to see if the bullet is still in there.” Trying not to jostle the girl’s wounds, Stacy fit a gown over her, easing the way for any help she’d get. Susie joined her when Stacy struggled to get the girl onto her back. They were both breathless by the time a rap on the front door drew her attention. “Come in.”
The scuffle of feet reached her ears, but she didn’t pause until they came closer. “Hi.” She offered her best smile, glancing at her bloodied gloved hand. “I know this looks terrible.” She explained the encounter. “I wasn’t sure I was capable of helping her, but I’ve done the best I can. The children helped a lot too. However, I don’t think I can extract the object from her leg.”
The pharmacist slid on a pair of gloves and opened a medical bag. “I took a few surgical classes when I started med school before switching to pharmacy. I can help.”
Stacy stepped aside and let him work.
“How long ago did you find her?” He checked her vital signs. “She’s alive and has a strong pulse. I don’t think blood loss led to her passing out. It could be trauma or shock. I’ll see about the, uh, object. I usually don’t do this, but I’d rather help than let her die. But, if it looks bad, I have to involve the hospital.”
Stacy held pressure near the wound. “I pray it doesn’t get to that point. The person who shot her may be waiting for hospital reports to alert them.”
“Please get me some hot water.” He nodded toward the supplies she’d had the kids gather. “You already have clean towels. If you have any alcohol, please get that too. And some bandages.”
“We can do those. We’re also strangers to her situation, so we’re trying to help until we can learn more.” Stacy sent the boys for her first aid kit as well. “What can I do to help?”
The pharmacist offered his first smile before getting to work. “Take a walk. You look tense.”
Stacy exhaled. “Sorry. I had a lot to deal with before the girl collapsed into my hands. God has sure filled my hands with enough prayer points to last me a while. I’ll go get the food out of the oven and have the boys and Susie eat. They may have better appetites than I have.”
She prayed for the girl once more, asking the Lord for help and wisdom for the pharmacist. She’d rather not break her promise to the girl unless she had to.
Soon, she had the boys and Susie seated in the dining room, thankfully adjacent, not opposite to the common room. It was also closer to the kitchen. “I’m sure this wasn’t how you pictured spending Christmas Eve.” She attempted a smile but didn’t bother when it faltered. “I didn’t either.” She told them in detail about her encounter with the wounded girl at the mailbox. Then about the letter they’d received, as well as how Bishop had gotten in trouble and was out on bail—and had received Jesus into his heart. “That’s the good news. Since the new owners insist, I should tell you all I accepted the request for us to vacate and shut down operations at the end of the next year.”
Silence met her announcement.
She forced the tears at bay. “I didn’t plan for things to end like this. But, except for Henry, the rest of you should already be gone by the end of the year. Henry, I will work with social services to place you in a good foster home.”
His shoulders fell. She drew close, squeezed those shoulders, then released him. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have it the same as here, but you can make up your mind to adjust no matter how things look, knowing it won’t last forever. I will always be there for you the best I can from a distance. Okay?”
He blew out a sigh. “I guess so. I don’t have a choice, do I?”
Her throat squeezed tight, and she pressed a hand to her heart. “I don’t see a choice, so, no, sweetie. But I trust that God is in control and He knows what He is doing.”
“Mrs. Black?” The pharmacist waved with a bloodied hand, stepping into her view alone as she was closest to the common room’s entrance.
“Okay, you all eat. I’ll be back.” She hadn’t eaten either, but no way could she get food into her belly with that bloody sight.
She reached him in a few strides. “Wow.” A piece of metal rested on some soiled towels on a chair.
“I took that out of her leg. I also disinfected the wound and bandaged it up. She may need an IV, and I’d better return to the pharmacy.” He shed the bloodied gloves. “I don’t think she’s in too bad a shape medically. However, she’ll need some weeks for recovery.” He wadded up the gloves. “I also suggest you get in touch with law enforcement as soon as you can to inform them about her in case she’s a missing person. Clearly, someone shot her. By law, all GSWs—that’s gunshot wounds—need to be reported. So we would be breaking the law to withhold such information.” He wiped his hands on a towel, cleaning up the splotches on his wrists and forearms enough to return to his store without attracting attention, then rolled back down his sleeves. “Plus, we don’t want them to find her, and, if she has living relatives, they could be worried. We need to think about them too. I think I’ve done all I can for the moment, but I’ll return to the pharmacy for the IV, antibiotics, and pain medications for when she wakes up. I’ll be back.”
Stacy touched his now-clean hand. “Thank you very much for your help. I’m sure I couldn’t have handled it alone—after all, good intentions only go so far. God bless you. What about the gunshot wound?”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Black. It’s a flesh wound, so she should be fine. And since the bullet went straight through, I”—he made air quotes—“technically didn’t treat it. So I won’t report it, but rather, I leave that obligation to you. Excuse me.”
As the pharmacist left, Stacy sat down and settled her head in her hands.
The wounded girl’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, leading Stacy to give God thanks. This could’ve ended differently had she not gone out to the mailbox. Only then did she remember she’d dropped the mail on the ground outside.
Going out of the center, she found it right where it had fallen and placed it inside the mailbox, then closed it. She waved Bishop over, and he returned into the center with her. “I didn’t see anyone acting weird.”
“Good. You should eat.” She gave him a slight shove toward the kitchen.
“Uh-uh. Not after all that bloody sight. I think I’ll pass. I might get some fries out from the fridge and try to eat some. But I can’t eat a full meal.”
They entered the common room where the others were speaking with low voices, probably not to disturb the girl.
When the pharmacist returned and set up the IV, he left instructions for the girl’s care.
Stacy pulled up a chair and sat next to where the girl lay, praying about everything bothering her heart. She poured it all out to the Lord until, not long into the evening, she fell asleep.