Without further ado, Lucy clasped her big-knuckled hands together, squeezed her eyes shut, and boomed in her raspy voice, “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 . . .”
I smiled to myself. The prayer was obviously a poem of some sort she’d memorized.
“. . . Bless the roof and chimney tall, let Thy peace lie over all. Bless the door that it may prove, ever open to joy and love. Bless these windows, shinin’ bright, lettin’ in God’s heavenly light. Bless the folks who dwell within, keep them pure and free from sin. Bless us that we’ll dwell one day, oh Lord with Thee.” Lucy opened her eyes and grinned. “Amen. The end.”
Murmurs of appreciation circled the room. “Where’d you get that prayer, Lucy?” Estelle asked.
Lucy shrugged. “Dunno. Learned it as a kid. My mama used to pray it ever’ time we moved to new digs—which was ever’ couple months, seems like. Followin’ the crops, ya know. Seemed like it fit this here new House of Hope.”
My ears perked up. Lucy rarely, if ever, shared information about her former life.
“Sí, mi amiga,” Edesa said warmly. “And I want you to pray it again when we get up to our apartment, okay? Shall we go?”
“Our apartment first!” Tanya said. “Sammy, go open the door.”
I glanced at Peter Douglass. He’d been usurped. But the unflappable businessman gave me a wink and nodded. “Let the Spirit move,” he murmured as he followed the crowd across the hall and into apartment 1A.
I waited until the room cleared and approached Philip, who had been sitting on the window seat in the sunroom, his broken arm resting on a stack of throw pillows. “You go on,” he said. “I don’t do stairs too well.”
“Do you want me to call a taxi?”
“Just . . . go, Gabby. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.”
Fine. I left the apartment, but the only person waiting for me in the hall was Lee. He was frowning.
“What’s he doing here, Gabby? Have you two patched it up?”
I felt a flicker of annoyance. After our confrontation at the hospital, Lee didn’t exactly have any claim on what I did or didn’t do as far as Philip was concerned. At the same time, I wanted him to understand. “I didn’t invite him, if that’s what you mean. He brought Paul home, and Paul begged me to let him stay. That’s all.”
Lee’s face softened. He nodded and glanced at his watch. “Wish I could stay, but I’ve got some research to do for a case I’m arguing Monday. But this house warming—”
“House blessing,” I corrected.
“Right. House blessing. Anyway, it was very nice. I’m . . .” He reached out a hand and gently touched my cheek. “I’m proud of you, Gabby. What you’ve done here. You’re quite a woman.”
“Now can we serve your brownies?” I asked Estelle as our little throng returned to the first floor after blessing the other two apartments. I’d noticed that Avis had also quietly anointed the doors of the three apartments still occupied by other tenants.
Estelle smiled coyly. “As long as you stay out of the kitchen. Harry an’ I’ve got it covered. Right, Harry?” I caught a wink passing between the two of them. Hm. What were those two up to?
“Don’t anyone leave,” I announced. “We still have dessert and coffee.” I saw Denny Baxter in the sunroom talking to Philip. Probably offering to give him a ride back to the penthouse. Well, Philip and Lee had been here in the same room and the roof hadn’t caved in. I started to relax for the first time that evening. Thank You, God, for pouring Your peace over our house blessing. I didn’t think anyone had seen Lee touch my cheek out in the hall, even though I could still feel the exact spot on my skin.
After what seemed longer than necessary to set out a pan of brownies, Harry Bentley appeared in the doorway of the living room. “Dessert is served. This way, ladies and gentlemen.” He offered his arm to me. “May I escort you, Firecracker?”
“You’re being so formal,” I teased. “Except for that ‘Firecracker’ bit.”
We all forged our way down the long hall, past the boys’ bedrooms and bathroom to the dining room at the rear of the apartment. To my surprise, the makeshift plywood table had been cleared of my everyday tablecloth and the potluck dishes, and it now boasted a white damask tablecloth and elegant silver candlesticks. Tall white candles flickered cheerfully. On one end sat a silver coffee service with a silver creamer and sugar bowl and, on the other, china dessert plates and silver forks. All this for brownies and coffee?
I groaned silently. I really needed to get a decent table.
“Come in, come in, make room for everybody . . .” Mr. B glanced over the faces bunching into the room, whispered something to Paul, and a minute later my youngest reappeared with his father.
“Is it my mom’s birthday?” Paul asked, obviously as confused as the rest of us. “I thought it wasn’t till next weekend.”
Oh no. Harry and Estelle didn’t go to all this trouble for—
“No, son. Matter of fact, didn’t know your mom had a birthday comin’ up.” Harry winked at me. “But it is an important occasion. Just wanted all you folks to know . . .” Harry reached for Estelle’s right hand and pulled her close to him. “Show ’em, babe.”
Eyes shining, Estelle raised her left hand and turned it in the candlelight so we could all see the exquisite diamond ring sparkling on her third finger.
For a nanosecond, the whole room seemed to gasp . . . and then whoops, hollers, and “hallelujahs” broke out as if Harry Bentley had just scored the winning home run that gave the Cubs a pennant. Sensing something exciting was happening, even Dandy offered several joyous barks, and I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Yep!” Harry beamed. “Last weekend I asked Miss Estelle Williams to marry me—and she said yes.”
“ ’Bout time!” Precious snorted. Even moody Sabrina was smiling and clapping. The cheering hiked up another couple decibels when the ex-Chicago cop pulled his ladylove into a clinch and gave her a long, sensuous kiss.
And then we were all over both of them, giving them hugs, congratulations, and slaps on the back—well, the guys slapped Harry. “Oh, Mr. B,” I breathed into his ear when I finally got my turn for congratulations. “I am so happy for you. So . . . happy.” The lump in my throat cut off the rest of what I wanted to say, and I just hugged him hard.
Harry and Estelle insisted on serving the coffee and brownies to us all—“Estelle’s Double-Rich Double-Fudge recipe,” Harry bragged—as everyone started begging for details. “Where’d he pop the question, Estelle?” . . . “Did you have to twist her arm, Harry?” . . . “Do you guys have a wedding date yet?”
As my teeth sank into a second piece of Estelle’s brownies, I suddenly realized Harry said he’d asked Estelle to marry him last weekend—the same weekend he’d saved Philip from another serious attack by that terrible Fagan person. I started to ask Harry if he’d asked Estelle before or after that traumatic event, but held back because I saw Philip gingerly make his way through the crowded room and extend his good hand to Harry. “Congratulations, Bentley. Happy for you. And I hear I’ve got you to thank for saving my skin last Sunday. Don’t know how you sent those cops to the right alley, but—thanks.”
Harry pursed his lips a moment and then nodded thoughtfully as he slowly shook Philip’s offered hand. “Glad you’re okay, Fairbanks.” He looked hard at Philip. “But the one you should really thank is the Man Upstairs. Might not have sent those cops to the right place if God hadn’t let me go through hell.”
Philip seemed taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“My eyes. God allowed my sight to give out on me not long ago, real scary time. But I learned to use my other senses a lot more, ’specially my hearing. It was the things I heard over your phone—the buses goin’ by, other sounds—that told me where that shakedown was happenin’. Learned somethin’ the hard way— God can use anything, even the pain in our lives, to do some good.”
I was so astonished by their interaction, I had to slip away into the bathroom to gather my wits around me. I was glad Philip took the opportunity to thank Mr. B for coming to his rescue last weekend. Maybe . . . maybe that was even the reason God allowed him to end up here at the house blessing tonight. I held on to the sink, my shoulders slumping. Oh God, I’m sorry—sorry all I was thinking about was me and my feelings. Maybe you wanted Philip to be here tonight, to talk to Harry, or just to witness a group of people giving You the glory for putting the House of Hope together.
Harry’s words just a few moments before suddenly echoed in my head. “God can use anything, even the pain in our lives, to do some good.” The comment hit me with such force, I had to sit down on the toilet seat. It was true. God had caused a lot of good to come out of my pain! It didn’t excuse what Philip had done, but tonight’s house blessing for the House of Hope would never have happened if I hadn’t ended up homeless and close to losing my sons—
Knock! Knock! “Sister Gabby, are you in there?” Edesa’s voice. “People are getting ready to go home, but the Douglasses want to have one last prayer.”
“Uh . . . coming! Give me a sec.” I took several deep breaths, patted a wet washcloth on my face, and finger-combed my frowzy curls before opening the door. The group had gathered back in the living room, forming a haphazard circle. I slipped in between Jodi and Denny and took their hands.
“Ah, there you are, Gabby,” Peter Douglass said. “Just wanted to ask what’s next for the House of Hope so we can commit the next steps to prayer before we leave.”
On the spot again! I thought fast. “Well, actually Josh and I found out today that the tenant in 2A is moving out next weekend— which is good, as it frees up another apartment for the House of Hope. But that’s sooner than we thought, so we need God’s guidance in selecting our next residents. Same for the other two apartments, of course—and also pray that the tenants who move out would find good places to go.”
Peter Douglass nodded, closing with a simple prayer asking for guidance and wisdom in filling the House of Hope with the people God would bring. And then there was a flurry of goodbyes, more congratulations for Harry and Estelle, reclaiming of coats and food dishes. Jodi had been helping with the cleanup, so she and Denny and Philip were some of the last to leave. We were saying good-bye when I felt an urgent tug on my arm.
“Mom? Mom!” Paul darted eager looks between Philip and me. “If that apartment on the second floor is gonna be empty, why doesn’t Dad just move in there? Then we could see him more often and not hafta wait till Fridays!”