It took me a long time to fall asleep after the phone call with Philip. I could hardly believe it! His father had offered him a decent way to get back into the commercial development business—not a bailout, like his mother had been ready to do, but a chance to prove himself over a period of time, a chance to rectify his mistakes and start over. And he’d turned it down?
Guilt nagged at my spirit. Maybe I should’ve been willing to at least consider moving back to Petersburg so he could’ve taken them up on the offer.
Funny thing, though. The guilt trip didn’t come from Philip. Even though he asked if I’d consider moving back to Petersburg, he wasn’t surprised by my no. In fact, he said he’d already turned down the offer, realizing it wasn’t realistic to expect the boys and me to drop everything and move back there.
No, he was making a choice. Putting his family first.
It was so . . . so incredibly amazing, I hardly knew what to do with myself. I finally threw off the covers, got up, and put a load of laundry into the machine in the basement, then scrubbed the stovetop, which had needed it for at least a week. I checked on the boys—both of them asleep, Paul with an arm flung over Dandy, who was curled up on his bed, P.J. splayed out on the bed still in his clothes, desk light on. “Your father really does love you,” I whispered to each one as I kissed their cheeks and turned out the lights.
But I still didn’t know the answer to the next question.
Did I still love Philip?
Did Philip love me?
The boys were ecstatic when I told them the next morning that their dad would be back in a few days. But I was still in shock when I arrived at work. And worried. Did Philip have a Plan B? What was he going to do for a place to live? Even more critical, what was he going to do for a job?
Estelle came in late that morning, bustling around the shelter kitchen like a banshee on the loose, trying to put lunch together on time. I came out of my office and leaned on the counter. “You okay? Need some help?” To be honest, I was so distracted that morning I figured I’d be more productive chopping vegetables than pushing my computer mouse around anyway.
She snapped up my offer in a nanosecond, handing me a potato peeler and a ten-pound bag of Idaho potatoes, while she peeled onions for a vegetable soup, fussing the whole time. “Was s’posed to look at a couple apartments this morning. First one, the so-called bedrooms were ’bout as big as your broom-closet there”—she pointed a knife at my office off the dining room—“and the next one, landlord never showed. Lord, have mercy! If I don’t find an apartment soon, don’t know what I’m gonna do. Leroy s’posed to get released from the nursing center this weekend.” Her knife flew so fast chopping the peeled onions, I was afraid a couple of her fingers might end up in the soup.
“Can’t you ask them for an extension? I mean, they can’t release him if he doesn’t have a place to go, right?”
“That’s what I’m gonna do, ask ’em for another week at least! Got a meeting with the staff there tomorrow mornin’ at ten. Maybe you all can pray for me during Edesa’s Bible study.”
“Mrs. Fairbanks?” The male voice made me jump. Will Nissan appeared out of the stairwell and headed toward the kitchen. “My Thursday classes got cancelled, so Nana and I came a little earlier today—oh, hi, Miss Williams. I’m Will, Lucy Tucker’s great-nephew.” He held a hand across the counter toward Estelle.
“Mm-mm. Whoever you are, son, I like your manners.” Estelle shook his hand. “Whatchu need . . . coffee? Got some leftover sweet rolls from this mornin’.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Just wanted to tell Mrs. Fairbanks here that I think we’re making some progress. Lucy says she’s willing to go visit the condo where my grandmother lives—you know, give her an idea of what it’d be like to live there with her sister. Would tomorrow afternoon about three be okay?”
“That’s fantastic, Will! I’ll make sure Lucy’s ready to go.” I looked at him quizzically. “If Lucy does move in with your grandmother, what about you? Is the apartment big enough for all three of you?”
He ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Not really. It’s only a two-bedroom. I’ll have to move out to make room for Aunt Cindy—Lucy, I mean. I put my name in for student housing at UIC, but they don’t have anything available ’til semester break. So, yeah, it’s a little tricky. I need to find something temporary for six weeks, maybe eight. But”—he shrugged—“it’ll work out. In fact, I’m looking forward to living near campus. I’d like to get involved in more stuff than just going to classes. Oh, been meaning to ask. Have you heard anything from Mr. Philip? I was wondering if he’s going to stay in Virginia or come back to Chicago.”
I smiled. “Last I heard he’s coming back here. In a day or two, in fact.”
“Hey, that’s great. He’s been a real help to me on some of my architecture projects. Could use some more of his advice. Well . . .” The young man grinned and lifted a hand in a wave. “Guess I better get back to my girls.” He laughed and disappeared up the stairs.
We watched him go. “That there is a nice young man,” Estelle murmured. “Hope Lucy knows how lucky she is to have family like that.” Then she eyed me with a lifted eyebrow. “So Philip’s coming back to Chicago. How come I think there’s more to the story than that?”
Philip called again that night to say he was arriving at O’Hare the following afternoon—Friday—and the Baxters had said he was welcome to use them as home base until he found an apartment. “I hate to ask, Gabby, but could I leave my stuff in your basement for a few more days? Another week at most. I’m sorry it’s been this long.”
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.