I felt slightly panicked as I arrived at work Thursday morning. I’d told Estelle I’d go with her this morning to the hospital meeting about Leroy if she needed me, but I had to decide something— quick!—about the Fall Getaway. Especially if I needed to cancel. We were supposed to leave right after lunch tomorrow, trying to miss traffic. But no way could I leave town if I didn’t have someone to look after my boys.
I need some help here, Lord. I glanced at Mabel’s closed office door as I came into the Manna House foyer. Should I ask Mabel if the boys could—? I immediately tossed out that idea. Wouldn’t work. Not for P.J., anyway. Maybe for Paul. Should I separate the boys, find different places for them? Whoever P.J. stayed with would have to get him to his cross country meet on Saturday— “Gabby? Message for you.” Angela Kwon waved a piece of paper at me. “Hope you know what it means.” She grabbed the phone, which was ringing for the third time. “I wrote what she told me. Hello, Manna House Women’s Shelter . . . Who?”
Unfolding the note, I read it as I headed for the stairs to the lower level. “Jury’s out. Harry has day off, going with me to hospital meeting. Pray. Please check if Mabel able to find someone to make lunch. If not, leftovers in freezer. Take your pick. Estelle.”
A wave of relief calmed my jitters. Now I’d have time to figure out what to do about the weekend—but not if I had to rustle up lunch. Hopefully Mabel had found a replacement to cook lunch, and not leftovers either. Ugh.
I stopped at the coffee urns to get a cup of coffee, rereading the note. Good news—I hoped—about the jury being out, which meant Fagan’s trial was almost over. But Estelle had said accusations against a police officer were never a slam-dunk. They might be deliberating for days. Probably why she wrote “Pray.” Or did she mean pray for her meeting at the hospital?
Stupid question, Gabby. Both, obviously—
“Miss Gabby? Miss Gabby!”
I looked up and saw Naomi Jackson waving at me across Shepherd’s Fold. The young girl looked a lot better these days, her blond-streaked brown hair washed and pulled back into a ponytail, her face not so pinched and pale. She met me halfway across the room.
“What time we leavin’ tomorrow, Miss Gabby? For the getaway, I mean.” She smiled shyly. “I ain’t ever been to Wisconsin before. I’m real excited about it.”
“Right after lunch. That’s the plan anyway.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. “We’ve got a few glitches to work out, though. Do you pray, Naomi?”
“Well, sure, sometimes. Ain’t too good at it, though. Why you askin’?”
“We could use some prayer about working out those glitches. We don’t want to have to cancel the trip.”
“Cancel the trip?” Her gray eyes widened. “No way! If prayin’ can help, I’m gonna start right now!” She started off, then turned back. “Would prayin’ in the chapel make it more, like, legit?”
I shook my head, smiling now. “You can pray anywhere, Naomi, and God will hear you. But it’s quiet in the chapel”—a tiny prayer room, really, tucked away on the main level behind Shepherd’s Fold—“real nice if you want to get away for some special prayer time, just you and God.”
“Then I’m gonna pray there.” Naomi marched off and disappeared into the back hallway.
I watched her go. Take your own advice, Gabby, I told myself. God had already answered my first prayer, giving me some time this morning to work on alternative plans for the weekend. A good reminder to pray about the rest of the mess Philip’s phone call had stirred up. I wished I could call Jodi Baxter and ask her to pray with me, but she didn’t get home from school until three o’clock. Estelle wouldn’t be back until . . . who knew when. So I shut my office door and prayed by myself.
Then I talked to Mabel, who was encouraging as usual. “Canceling the weekend should definitely be a last resort, Gabby. I’m sure something will work out for your boys. Paul can spend the weekend with Jermaine and me if that’ll help. Why don’t you explain the situation to Josh Baxter and see what he says? P.J.’s fourteen, could pretty much take care of himself if he has someone who knows his comings and goings. Call me tonight, let me know, all right?”
“Thanks, Mabel.” She made it sound so reasonable. I got up to go.
“Oh, one more thing.” She laughed as I gave her a look. “Some very sweet ladies from Chicago Tabernacle are coming to make lunch today. You’re off the hook with the leftovers.”
Paul showed up at the shelter after school as usual since he could walk from Sunnyside, got some help from Carolyn in the schoolroom on his math homework, then holed up in the rec room with Jermaine, who also came to the shelter after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The two of them were working on a jazz number they were creating together. I’d decided not to say anything to Paul or P.J. about the situation with their dad and the weekend until I had my ducks lined up for both boys.
But my supposedly reasonable intentions were shot to pieces the moment Paul and I walked into the apartment at five fifteen. “Mom!” P.J. met us five steps inside the door. “Why didn’t you tell us we can’t go to Dad’s this weekend? What’s going on? I asked him and he said you’d tell us. But you haven’t!”
“We can’t go to Dad’s?” Paul echoed. “I thought you were going on that getaway thingy this weekend, Mom.”
“You talked to Dad?” I stalled, hanging my jacket in the hall closet.
“Yeah, just called him. I wanted to ask if he’d come see me run in the sectionals on Saturday. Might be my last race this fall if we don’t go to State. But he said he didn’t even know where he’d be this weekend. What’s that mean? What’s going on?”
I sighed. There was no avoiding laying it out for the boys. I ushered them into the sunroom—a misnomer today, which was again gray and drizzly—and we curled up on the window seats for a talk. As simply as I could, I said the same people who had attacked their dad before were threatening him again, and he was concerned it wasn’t safe for the boys to come there this weekend. So I was looking for someone else they could stay with while I was gone.
“But what about Dad? He shouldn’t stay there either!” P.J. spouted.
“True. He’ll probably go to a hotel or—”
“Why doesn’t he just stay here?” Paul asked. “You’re gonna be gone.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but P.J. jumped in. “Sure! Then we could just stay here and wouldn’t have to go anywhere. And we’d be with Dad for the weekend, like usual.”
The trouble was, it made sense—from the boys’ point of view. How could I tell them I didn’t even want them around Philip until that whole mess got straightened out? “I don’t think—”
“And then I could take care of Dandy!” Paul grinned. “You said Lucy wanted to go on your trip and needed someplace for Dandy to stay.”
My boys were two steps ahead of me, ironing out all my problems. But would they be safe? I needed time to think! Besides, all I could think of in the moment was whether Philip would sleep in my bed, the twin I’d brought from my childhood home when my mother died. The thought unnerved me. I wasn’t ready for Philip to share my bed, even if I wasn’t here!
“Let me think about this, boys. I need to make supper and we can talk later, okay?”
I fed the boys tuna sandwiches, chips, and applesauce—the easiest thing I could throw together without having to think about it. My mind was a whirling dervish. It was already six o’clock on Thursday night, and I was supposed to leave town in less than twenty-four hours. Paul’s idea was tempting. It would solve all the glitches in one fell swoop! The boys would get to spend time with their dad after all. Paul could take care of Dandy. I could pack and get ready for my weekend instead of spending all evening trying to patch things together. And Philip would get away from the penthouse—and not have to pay for a hotel room with money he should be using to get himself out of debt, which was no small thing.
Except . . . Philip in my space for a whole weekend? Would it be harder to keep the boundaries I’d established since I got back on my feet? And what would he do when I got home on Sunday? The danger at the penthouse would still be there—until he paid off his debt to Fagan, anyway.
I needed to talk to somebody.
I dialed Jodi Baxter.
When she answered, I spilled out the whole complicated mess with hardly a pause for breath. “So what do you think?”
“Whoa. Slow down, Gabby. You’ve got several things going on here. Philip’s being threatened again? I thought that went away when Fagan got arrested. Isn’t his trial this week?”
“Yes. It went to the jury today. But apparently he’s still got his goons on Philip’s tail, trying to get his money back.”
“So what is Philip doing about it? Paying the money back, I mean. They’re obviously not going to leave him alone until—”
“I don’t know, Jodi! That’s not my business. Right now I’m just trying to get things covered for the boys while I’m gone this weekend. And they want to stay with their dad—rather, they want their dad to stay with them. I’ve got to decide something tonight, or cancel the whole thing.”
A pause. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Okay, what do I think about Philip staying at your place this weekend . . . basically sounds like a good idea, works out for everybody all around—if the boys would be safe, that is. But, Gabby, what I think isn’t important. You need to feel at peace about it. You know, the whole boundaries thing you mentioned. Why don’t we pray about it? There’s a scripture in Philippians that says something like, ‘. . . let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God that goes beyond understanding will guard your heart and your mind.’ Fourth chapter, I think. You need that peace, no matter what you decide. So . . . okay to pray?”
Which she did. But right in the middle of her prayer, I butted in. “Jodi! Pray for Philip’s safety too. Frankly, after what’s happened already—the horrible beating he got that put him in the hospital and then Fagan threatening to shoot his knees out—I don’t blame him for taking it seriously. I’ve been so focused on my plans for the boys falling through this weekend that I haven’t been concerned enough about the reason for it.”
“Of course,” she said, and added impassioned prayers for Philip’s safety. But she was quiet for several moments after she said, “Amen.” Then . . . “You know what, Gabby? All of us ought to take this threat seriously. I’m going to talk to Denny and see if he and maybe some of the other guys could hang out with Philip and the boys this weekend—just so he’s not alone with them. I mean, if he’s not at the penthouse or hanging around there, he’ll probably be okay. But like you said, their threats need to be taken seriously.”
“Oh, Jodi, do you think . . . I mean, would Denny do that? I wonder what Philip would think about that. He hasn’t exactly been Mr. Sociable, if you know what I mean. I mean, he can be— he used to be Prince Charming, you know. But he doesn’t know Denny or Josh that well, and to tell the truth, I think he’s kind of embarrassed by all this. You know, the gambling debt and threats and everything.”
“Well, let me talk to Denny anyway. You need to decide what you want to do about Philip staying with the boys at your place. Just one thought: We prayed over that building, remember? Not just the building but all the people in it. At some point, Gabby, you’ve got to let go and trust God for your family.”
I surprised myself by inviting Philip to stay with the boys in our apartment at the House of Hope—and by feeling it was the right thing to do. I was also surprised how quickly he accepted. “That’s generous of you, Gabby. Are you sure?”
When Josh heard about the plans, he got the brainy idea of leaving little Gracie with Grandma Jodi on Saturday so “all the guys”—Josh and his dad and Philip and Paul—could go see P.J. run with the Lane Tech cross country team. “Then we could grill steaks in my folks’ backyard or something.” That got the boys excited—how could Philip say no? And so it was decided.
Sammy was disappointed that he wasn’t needed to take care of Dandy for the weekend, but since he and his mom lived right across the hall, Paul said he could help take Dandy for walks, which seemed to satisfy the little boy.
I decided to leave my Subaru with Josh while I was gone— much better than leaving it parked all weekend near Manna House—in exchange for a lift to work the next morning with my suitcase, as well as picking up Dandy and taking him back to my apartment. That gave Josh an idea. “After the boys get home from school, we could use the Subaru to pick up their dad and bring him here. If Mr. Fairbanks leaves his car at Richmond Towers, that’ll confuse anyone who might be on the lookout for his car leaving the parking garage.”
Even Philip thought that was a smart idea.
With the whole Baxter family covering my family—God’s peace in skin is what it felt like—I was able to concentrate Friday morning on last-minute details for our trip to Wisconsin. Estelle was back and helped Angela Kwon pack up the food for the weekend while Edesa led her regular Friday-morning Bible study, then Edesa and I checked with all the ladies who were going, to be sure they had adequate sweatshirts, socks, and other warm clothes in case the weather got cold. Once again I had to tell Lucy she could not take her wire cart in the van—there was just no room. For a few minutes I thought she might back out of the trip altogether rather than part with all her worldly goods, but she finally agreed to store her cart in my office, taking what she needed in a pillowcase.
I was able to catch a few minutes alone with Estelle in the kitchen while everyone was eating lunch. “How did the meeting about Leroy go yesterday? Did social services find a place for him?”
She nodded but kept on scrubbing a pan with baked-on cheese in the sink.
“Are you feeling good about that?”
No answer. Scrub, scrub, scrub.
“Estelle, don’t make me guess what you’re thinking. I care about you! Did something happen in the meeting to upset you?”
The scrubbing stopped. “Oh, the meeting was fine. They found a psychiatric facility for Leroy with a nursing unit. The doctors are happy. Harry’s happy. ‘Now you don’t have to worry about him, Estelle,’ he says. And that was that.” She glowered. “That’s the problem.”
She tackled the scrubbing again. “He’s my son, Gabby. Can’t just wash my hands of him like I done before.”
“Like you . . . whatever do you mean, Estelle?”
“When I moved out and let him stay in the house. I shoulda known them drug dealers in the neighborhood would take advantage of him. They just moved in, made my house a drug house, Gabby, and threatened to hurt Leroy if he said anything about it! That wouldn’t have happened if I’d stayed with him, now, would it?”
“But you can’t blame yourself, Estelle. You moved out because it wasn’t safe for you—he wasn’t safe. Look at what happened with the fire! Bad enough that he set the fire and got burned. But what if you’d been there? You could have been seriously hurt.”
“Wasn’t the way it was.”
I blinked. “What? But you told me earlier—”
“Harry’s been doing some sleuthin’—he an’ that former partner of his, Cindy. The day before the fire, I was worried ’cause Leroy wouldn’t answer his phone. I couldn’t go down to the house, so Harry said he’d check up on Leroy for me. That’s when he discovered all them druggies had moved in. Harry didn’t tell me, didn’t want to upset me. Just ordered them drug dealers to move out—or else. Now we findin’ out the fire was set in retaliation, made it look like Leroy did it.”
My eyes widened in shock.
“An’ you know what’s worse?” Estelle shook a spatula in my face. “Them drug dealers are sayin’ that Officer Fagan put them up to it, else he’d take away the ‘protection’ he’d been givin’ them.”
“Oh, Estelle.” Unbelievable! I hoped the jury would put that evil man away for a long time. Made me shudder, all the harm he’d done hiding behind his blue uniform. “I’m so sorry. But . . . isn’t it good that Leroy will be in a safe place now, can’t be taken advantage of ?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Lets me off the hook now, don’t it?”
“But what else could you do?”
“Nothin’ today. Ain’t got no place to take care of him. But I been thinkin’ . . . maybe when the insurance money for the house comes through, I could buy me a little Chicago bungalow. Except . . .” Estelle’s shoulders sagged and she leaned against one of the big counters. “Except, Harry an’ me, we’re engaged now. Supposed to get married. But he got DaShawn. No way he gonna agree to take Leroy in too. I dunno, Gabby. Maybe I should give Harry’s ring back, set him free.” Her eyes teared up. “Do my duty as a mama and take care of my boy.”