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For the next two days, Zoë-Grace and Joanna revolved around each other like planets on similar but distinct paths around the same sun. They existed in the same space but rarely came within each other’s orbit. For the most part, Joanna remained in her bedroom and Zoë-Grace worked from the dining table. She followed the hospital’s instructions to the letter, providing her mother with efficient but detached care. They spoke about neutral subjects like the weather and the news. The sudden indefinite closure of schools that Thursday, only two days after the first COVID-19 case was confirmed in Jamaica, gave them lots to talk about. Joanna’s perspective was that of a former high school principal, and Zoë-Grace viewed it from her point of view as a former assistant college lecturer. Both were concerned about what would happen to the students at all educational levels if schools didn’t re-open soon.
They discussed what was happening in faraway countries. They talked about whether the Jamaican government would have the budget to keep the health care system from becoming overwhelmed at some point.
In other words, they continued ignoring the elephant in the room, pretending Zoë-Grace hadn’t essentially confronted her mother only days earlier. The tension was so high by the second day that Zoë-Grace didn’t feel like she could handle it for one more hour.
Since only a few people had her new phone number, she would wait until she went back to the center to pick up her cell phone. She could use the landline to communicate with the project manager. She considered it a blessing in disguise that she was out of touch. She had told Isaiah she needed space, and now she had it. She had memorized the text message he had sent only minutes after she’d left him on the beach.
Our mutual attraction is obvious, but as a gentleman and a military man, I’m nothing if not disciplined. If you don’t want me to kiss you, touch you, or reach out to you, I won’t. If you need me, you know where to find me. The ball is in your court. Be safe.
She missed him. She had become used to their nightly text conversations that sometimes went on for hours. She missed the little things he had done recently to let her know he’d been thinking of her. She missed the way he would drop by when he was passing, if only for a few minutes, to check on her and see the latest updates. She missed the way he had sacrificed a few weekend afternoons to help her do one thing or another at the site. She missed how considerate he was, and how he had embraced the community center project and thrown his support behind it because it meant a lot to her. She hadn’t realized how important he’d become to her until he was no longer a part of her daily life.
But she knew she’d made the right decision. While emotionally, she felt like a low-key wreck—it was a good thing she hadn’t completely fallen in love with him—spiritually, she was at peace. The Holy Spirit was truly comforting her even as she grieved the loss of their friendship. She was also somewhat distracted by the tension with her mother and the uncertainty of... well... everything because of the virus.
Three evenings after the surgery, Zoë-Grace was sitting at the dining table drafting the website copy for the community center when she noticed flashing red lights reflecting on the walls of the living room. She went over to the window and peeped out. There was an ambulance backing into the driveway of Mrs. Winters’ house next door. Curious, Zoë-Grace stepped out onto the veranda. There was an unmarked vehicle parked by the side of the road in front of Mrs. Winters’ house.
She went to Joanna’s door and knocked gently. “Mother?”
Joanna’s voice was quiet. “Come in.”
She opened the door. “There seems to be something wrong with Mrs. Winters. There’s an ambulance over there. I’m going to see if I can help.”
Joanna’s eyebrows shot up into the air. “I didn’t hear a siren.”
“There wasn’t one.”
“Hmm,” Joanna murmured as she got out of the bed and moved to the chair, which was covered with clothes. “Not a good sign.”
Zoë-Grace heard what she wasn’t saying. An ambulance with no siren often meant it was too late to help the person. She headed outside.
Next door, the back of the ambulance opened, and two EMTs covered from head to toe by what looked almost like hazmat suits removed a gurney as a man Zoë-Grace didn’t recognize awaited them on the veranda. With his white coat, his face mask, and a stethoscope hanging on his neck, Zoë-Grace surmised that he was a doctor. Did they still make house calls?
The three disappeared into the house, but the doctor stepped back outside after a minute or two.
“Doctor,” Zoë-Grace said from her spot on the bottom step, “I’m from next door. What’s happening? Is Mrs. Winters...?” She couldn’t say the word. They’d spoken only three days ago.
The doctor offered a half-smile of what Zoë-Grace supposed was reassurance. “Mrs. Winters seems to be suffering from an upper respiratory infection of some kind. She called me this afternoon and, based on her condition, she needs to be admitted to hospital. I’m sorry if the ambulance frightened you. A precaution, you understand.”
Zoë-Grace felt Joanna come and stand behind her at the same time the EMTs bearing the gurney appeared in the doorway. The two ladies stepped back to give them space, and they brought Mrs. Winters out and down the stairs. She had what appeared to be an oxygen mask over her face.
As the stretcher moved past Joanna and Zoë-Grace, Mrs. Winters, who seemed alert, reached out a hand towards Zoë-Grace. The EMTs stopped moving but wouldn’t allow the young lady to get close enough to touch their patient. Mrs. Winters didn’t speak, but her eyes met Zoë-Grace’s and she seemed to be trying to convey a message through them. She looked in Joanna’s direction, her eyes pleading. Zoë-Grace saw the message in them. “Fix it.” Then Mrs. Winters focused her attention on Joanna. She did the same thing again, reaching her hand in Joanna’s direction and looking meaningfully at Zoë-Grace.
“I understand. I won’t wait any longer,” Joanna said.
Mrs. Winters squeezed her eyes closed, a look of relief settling on her face. They both promised to pray for her, and the EMTs gently lifted her into the ambulance. The doors closed, and the vehicle drove away, its lights flashing but the siren silent.
Zoë-Grace ran inside Joanna’s house and wrote their names and telephone numbers on a Post-It, which she took outside and handed to the doctor. Once they got the details of where Mrs. Winters would be and explained that Joanna had a set of keys to the house, he left them to lock up.
There was a solemn silence as Zoë-Grace and Joanna returned home.
Instead of heading into her bedroom, like Zoë-Grace had expected, Joanna sat across from her daughter’s usual spot at the dining table.
“Can I get you something, Mother? Some tea? The mashed potatoes won’t be ready for another ten minutes.”
“No, thank you. Can we...” Joanna looked uncomfortable. “Can we talk?”
“Of course, Mother. Let me just check on the potatoes.” On her return from the kitchen, she sat, closed her laptop, and set it aside.
Joanna’s face looked serious as she clasped her hands, then released them, over and over again. At the sight of her ashy skin, Zoë-Grace wondered if Joanna had run out of lotion.
“You know, Zoë-Grace, there used to be a time when you called me Mommy, not Mother.”
Zoë-Grace began to feel even more uncomfortable than she usually did around Joanna. She focused on a flaw in the dining table and resisted the urge to rub it with her fingers.
“You weren’t a typical baby girl, you know. My friends all told me that girls usually wean themselves before they’re a year old, while boys sometimes nurse until they’re forced to stop. But not you. You refused to be weaned, and I nursed you until you were past two years old. Back then, you had no time for your father. I was the be-all and end-all of your life. You used to light up when you saw me.
“But then I wanted another child—a boy—and the belief was that breastfeeding was a natural contraceptive, so I figured as soon as you stopped nursing, I’d get pregnant again. So I weaned you. Not only did I not get pregnant, but once that connection ended, you completely lost interest in me. You became a daddy’s girl in every sense of the word. The only thing you didn’t want Daddy to do for you was comb your hair.
“The harder I tried to infiltrate your little duo, the more you resisted me. Daddy tried to include me, but I got tired of you ignoring me. Over time, my resentment towards your relationship grew. I kept telling myself that if only I had a son, he and I would be just as close as you two. Except I never had a son, and in my mind, I began to blame first your father and then you for the fact that I didn’t get pregnant again.”
She began rubbing the spot where her wedding ring used to be. Zoë-Grace hadn’t seen her wear it since the night of the funeral.
“The blame and resentment manifested themselves in different ways—from me completely withdrawing from you, to being overly critical of you, to withholding things you needed, like affirmation and affection. I’m not proud of it, but I often accused your father of choosing you over me, of siding with you against me, and I see now that I was subconsciously trying to drive a wedge between you. The more I felt like I was failing at motherhood, the more I exalted myself in other areas like work and the church.
“And then he went and died, and I knew that because of the way I had allowed my relationship with you to deteriorate, you would most likely completely separate yourself from me. After all, you were always more likely to visit home if Daddy asked you. You were here for every Father’s Day and only the rare Mother’s Day. For his birthday, but not for mine. You had a favorite parent, and he was gone.
“I told myself that if you had the financial resources to completely establish your independence, then you would do just that. I figured if you didn’t have a reason to be here, you would stop coming home. So I gave you not just one reason, but several. I lied, I manipulated the situation, and I completely deceived you. I used any excuse I could come up with—my health, my finances, the house—to make you feel compelled to stay.
“You lost some of the esteem you’d always had for your dad because you thought he didn’t plan better for what would happen after his death, and I reveled in it. I saw how shocked you were when he died at that place, and I didn’t even tell you or anyone at the church that a few weeks after the funeral, I found out why he was there. The staff advisor of the high school’s chess club saw me in the supermarket and told me your father was donating some cell phone credit to the club as prizes and Daddy had told him he was going to buy the phone cards that night.”
Zoë-Grace wanted to hit the pause button on her mother’s monologue. What?! Her father had only been buying phone credit? And her mother had known this and said nothing? Zoë-Grace wanted to erupt but she could feel an inkling in her spirit telling her, Simmer down.
Joanna was still speaking. “Even though I knew it would settle things for you about your dad, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, knowing you’d put him back on his usual pedestal. I didn’t want that to happen, so I not only let you believe something that wasn’t true, but I added to it with my attitude. My thinking was warped.
“And on top of the loss of my husband, I’d lost the two areas of my life where I felt like I used to excel. I had retired from the high school, and I felt awkward at church because of the circumstances of your father’s death. Even after learning there was a reason for his being in that line that night, I couldn’t bring myself to confront the people at church who had judged him.
“In some ways, my life was spiraling out of control, and to overcompensate, I exerted more control over you.
“I saw what you were going through while you were here, having to sell your SUV, the debt, the job that sucked the life out of you, and I felt horrible, but I had to save face. I couldn’t confess then. The whole thing was backfiring—you were withdrawing even more—but I had painted us both into a corner.
“When you won the lottery, I didn’t really care whether gambling was morally acceptable for a Christian. I was upset because it meant you would have the money you needed to fix all my so-called problems and then leave. I had made our relationship about the lack of money, so having money now meant that there would no longer be any need for a relationship. And again, I lashed out at you.”
Zoë-Grace wasn’t moved by the tears on Joanna’s face, although they were spilling onto her cheeks and dripping onto the table. She was trying to process all the words that were coming out of her mother’s mouth, especially the revelation regarding Daddy’s death.
“Zoë-Grace.” Joanna raised her eyes to her daughter as she used the back of her hand to swipe at the tears. “I am so sorry. Words can’t express how badly I feel about everything... every problem I caused. The doctor said one of the symptoms of my condition was depression, but my resentment toward you started much earlier than the illness. I genuinely know what Saint Paul was talking about when he said he kept doing the things he didn’t want to do, while not doing the things he truly wanted to. That’s my story too. Mrs. Winters told me just the other day that I needed to fix this thing between you and me, and I promised her I would. So this is me, asking you what I can do to fix it.”
A sound from the kitchen penetrated Zoë-Grace’s consciousness and she rose and ran into the small room, annoyed to find scorched potatoes stuck to the bottom of the pot. Frustrated, she tossed everything—pot and all—into the garbage bin, sucking her teeth loudly. Dinner was ruined.
Her instinct was to walk out, but she remembered the plea in Mrs. Winters’ eyes as she was leaving earlier. She grabbed a paper towel from the roll on the counter and took it to the living room, where she handed it to her mother.
Joanna was the very picture of dejection as she wiped her face with the paper towel and then began shredding it onto the table. Zoë-Grace sat and took some deep breaths. She wasn’t sure how to feel or what to say, so she decided to say nothing.
It seemed Joanna wasn’t finished.
“I was awake that night at the hospital... when you prayed for me. That was when I realized that our relationship wasn’t completely over. It’s like a line I once heard in a song that said we’re not broken, only bent. I know God can fix it. But first, I’m praying that He will fix me.
“At some point in the last... I don’t know... twenty or so years, I became more concerned with pleasing church people and looking good in their sight than pleasing God. I read my Bible not to know God better but to be able to say how many times I’ve read the Bible cover to cover. I quoted Scripture not to draw people closer to God, but to show them how well I knew the Word. I served the choir not to bring glory to God, but so other people could tell me how well I could sing. I became my own idol, worshipping at the altar of Joanna and forgetting about the God who created me for a purpose.
“But that night when you prayed for me, I could tell that the prayer wasn’t about me. It wasn’t even about you. It was about doing what God wanted you to do... not for my sake or your sake, but for Christ’s sake, and something shattered inside me. I pretended to be asleep because I couldn’t even process what was happening to me. When you left, I wept and wept and wept. The nurse had to calm me down because of my blood pressure. I cried and I prayed, and I prayed and I cried some more. For these past two days, as I’ve been in my room, I’ve been talking to God, waiting to hear from Him. I’d just asked Him for a sign that it was time to come clean, when you knocked on my door to tell me about the ambulance.”
She scooped up all the pieces of the paper towel and held them in her hands.
A hundred responses ran through Zoë-Grace’s mind, but not one of them would have been the appropriate thing for a Christian to say to the mother she was determined to honor, so she remained silent.
Zoë-Grace slowly got to her feet. She struggled to find a modicum of grace within herself, and when she did, she said, “Thank you, Mother. If you don’t mind, I think I need a little time to think. The potatoes were ruined. I’m sorry.”
Joanna struggled to meet her daughter’s gaze. “Don’t worry about it. Are you leaving?”
Zoë-Grace could see stark fear on her mother’s face.
“No, Mother. Not tonight. I’m going for a walk.”
Her thoughts raced as she walked to the closest intersection and back. Something she had been hoping for and anticipating for a long time had finally happened, but she’d never come up with a plan for what she would do if it ever did.
Yes, she’d been upset with Joanna since learning of their true financial situation, but she’d also been waiting for Joanna to admit to treating her daughter unfairly for years... for decades. And now that Joanna had finally voiced the words, Zoë-Grace didn’t know what to do with the information.
Her instincts were telling her to get into her car and head back to her cottage. She could get the community center up and running, and then she could head back to Kingston and try to get back to life as she had once known it.
As soon as she started coming up with a list of companies to which she could send her resumes, Aunt Ruby’s voice popped into her head, as it so often did. OK, Zoë-Grace, what do you know about this situation? She pondered the question silently for a few moments before settling on the answer. I know Mother was wrong. Now I know she knows she was wrong. What am I going to do with this knowledge?
She continued to pace the sidewalk. The still small voice of Aunt Ruby said, You’re going to do what God told you in His Word: you’re going to honor your mother. You’re going to continue the process of forgiving her. You’re going to extend some of the grace that God has extended to you, so that you can move forward with your life and in your relationship with God. You’re going to close this unhappy chapter of your life and you’re going to move beyond it. And you’re going to start now.
Out loud, she said, “Lord, please help me to forgive.”
She headed back in the direction of the house, entered through the back door, and went into her bedroom. She stood for a moment, her energy spent, and took some deep breaths—in through her nose, out through her mouth. Then she opened the door, went back to the living room, where a crestfallen Joanna was still sitting at the table, and said in a quiet yet firm voice. “I forgive you, Mommy.”
__________
That Saturday morning found Isaiah pacing close to his assigned gate in the departure lounge of Montego Bay’s international airport. Aunt Ruby, seated nearby in her wheelchair, called out to him, “Come sit with me,” she indicated the row of seats close to her, “and tell me why you’re so agitated.”
Isaiah opened his mouth to deny it, but he couldn’t. He was indeed agitated. He moved to sit at the end of the row, within easy reach of her wrinkled, spotted hand. She held one of his in both of hers in that way she had, and silently commanded him to look into her eyes.
“What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you this restless.”
What was going on with him? Where should he begin? He absentmindedly noticed that he had started bouncing his right leg as soon as he sat and forced himself to stop.
Aunt Ruby continued, “Is it work?”
Among other things. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.” Her one-word instruction left no room for deflection.
“You know I love you, Aunt Ruby. And you know that with all the uncertainty right now, there’s no way I’d leave you to fend for yourself on a day like today. I’ve never seen this airport so busy.”
He looked around, taking in the hundreds of people who filled almost every available seat.
Aunt Ruby said, “Well, we knew we wouldn’t be the only ones who don’t want to take a wait-and-see approach to the airport possibly closing down.”
“True. The number of cancellations at the resort in the past two days has been astounding. Occupancy has dropped by more than fifty percent. That’s my major concern, actually. I mean—” he shrugged, a wry smile spreading across his face, “—I don’t necessarily need to work right now, but so many other staff in the hotel industry depend on their jobs to feed their families. It’s the early stages now, but I can just imagine the fallout if the occupancy rates continue to fall like they’ve started doing.”
Aunt Ruby pressed her lips together.
“And I’ve gotten to know the staff, you know. You find out who has four children in school and who’s taking care of their sick parent and who just started doing their degree part-time. I’m just wondering what’s going to happen to them if our worst fears are realized.”
“Yes. Somebody like Naydia could see her whole family impacted. Most of her customers are tourists, and she has her own children and her brother’s family depending on her.”
“Exactly. Once I see you settled in with Maya and Daniel, take care of that land purchase in Alistair Bay, and get back here in a week and a half, I’ll check in with Naydia and make sure she knows she can call me if she needs anything.”
“I’m sure Zoë-Grace will help her out.” She looked at him knowingly. He refused to take the bait, and she continued, “Speaking of Zoë-Grace, do you know what happened to her?”
Isaiah wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean? Something happened to her?” He had to force himself to look less concerned than he felt. There was no need to give Aunt Ruby more reasons to look at him the way she already was.
“I’ve been trying to call her since Thursday, to let her know I was leaving and leave a little gift with her—nothing big, just a couple of keepsake bookmarks I had with me—but her phone goes straight to voicemail. I left the bookmarks with the Fairweathers.”
Hmm. That was strange. He hadn’t tried to reach out to her since he’d texted her immediately after she’d left the beach. Had it been only four days? It seemed like so much longer. He missed her. A lot.
“Have you spoken to her?” Aunt Ruby wanted to know.
How could he confess that she’d told him not to? He adored Aunt Ruby, but he didn’t want her to have a front-row seat to his heartache. He needed to keep his disappointment close to his proverbial vest, at least until it didn’t hurt to hear Zoë-Grace’s name. He was surprised by how much he missed her. It almost felt like he was experiencing a physical ache in his chest when he thought of her, which was more often than he’d like to admit.
Isaiah became aware that Aunt Ruby was watching him closely. What had she asked him? He’d forgotten the question. Oh, now he remembered.
“I haven’t spoken to her in a couple of days, no.”
Aunt Ruby used her chin to point in the general direction of his shirt pocket, where his phone was sticking out. “So give her a call.”
Isaiah hesitated. “Well, um, the thing is... I don’t think she wants to hear from me. We had a bit of a disagreement on Tuesday.”
To Aunt Ruby’s credit, it wasn’t in her nature to pry too much, and she didn’t ask any probing questions. She just sat there quietly while he mulled the situation over in his mind. The silence stretched until he said, “Perhaps that’s why she wasn’t answering your calls.”
Aunt Ruby scoffed. “I doubt that. Zoë-Grace and I have our own relationship separate from anything that was going on between the two of you. Give her a call, would you? See if she answers. Maybe something has happened to her.”
Isaiah sighed. What’s the worst that could happen? She could see his number pop up and ignore the call, or worse, reject it. He retrieved the phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. Opening the messaging app, he typed a quick note so she wouldn’t automatically delete the message. “Hi. I’m about to share a voice note from Aunt Ruby.”
He tapped the microphone to record a message and held the phone up to Aunt Ruby’s mouth.
“Hello, Zoë-Grace. With everything that’s happening, I decided to return to Florida a few weeks earlier than planned. I’m at the airport now. Isaiah is accompanying me to Florida, but he should be back soon. The Fairweathers and I haven’t been able to get to you for a few days. I gave them a keepsake for you, so please reach out to them. You can call me in Florida at—” She recited the number before ending the voice note with her customary blessing.
“Well, God bless and keep you, Zoë-Grace. I pray for His perfect will to manifest in every area of your life. Keep safe, my friend. Goodbye.”
Isaiah contemplated adding his own voice note but decided against it. He didn’t want Aunt Ruby to be privy to the message. Instead, he allowed his fingers to fly across the screen.
Zoë-Grace, I hope you’re OK. I know you asked me to give you some space, but Aunt Ruby insisted. Like I said, the ball is in your court. I won’t reach out again unless you contact me first. This number will be roaming until I come back in 10 days. Stay safe.
As he pressed the arrow to dispatch the message, pre-boarding for their flight to Orlando was announced. He got to his feet, grabbed his backpack—his preferred form of hand luggage when he was traveling—and reached for the handles of Aunt Ruby’s wheelchair. They would be among the first to board the plane. As he handed over their travel documents, he took a look around the departure lounge. Farewell for now, Jamaica, he whispered to himself.
But as he wheeled Aunt Ruby onto the jetway that would lead to their plane, he couldn’t help but feel like he was heading in the wrong direction. He sighed. He’d be back here in a week and a half. Maybe by then, things would have returned to normal, and Zoë-Grace might be ready to reach out to him. Hopefully.
__________
After taking Joanna for a follow-up doctor’s visit that Saturday morning, Zoë-Grace returned to her cottage, eager to escape the polite tension that still existed in the house. Between working from Joanna’s dining table and ensuring her mother was OK, she had been busier than anticipated. She barely had time to miss Isaiah and their nightly conversations via text messages or voice notes.
She stopped at the community center on her way to the cottage and picked up her cell phone, which was exactly where she had left it on Tuesday. When she turned it on, she was flooded with notifications about missed calls, text messages, and voice notes. The Fairweathers had called her several times in the past few days, but it was a voice note from Isaiah, sent on the previous day, that caught her attention first. He had reached out to her!
She was disappointed when she saw his text that indicated that the voice note wasn’t really from him, but she couldn’t help but smile when she heard Aunt Ruby’s greeting. She was sorry she hadn’t been able to talk to her before she left. There was so much she wanted to share regarding what had happened with Joanna.
On the other hand, she wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or saddened that Isaiah was off the island, as well. After all, hadn’t she been praying that the Lord would close doors that needed to be closed and open doors that needed to be opened in order for her to walk in His perfect will? If in His divine wisdom, He allowed the door to a relationship with Isaiah to be closed by removing him from the country for a while, who was she to mourn the ‘missed opportunity’? She wasn’t over Isaiah, not by a long shot, but she knew that God had a good plan for her life, even if it was clear that the captain wasn’t meant to be a part of it.
__________
A week after the first COVID case was confirmed in Jamaica, the government announced that schools were being closed for two weeks to minimize the potential for the virus to spread. Non-essential public sector workers were required to work from home where possible for seven days.
Then the first COVID-related death was announced.
Once it became obvious that not only was the virus a clear and present danger, but people were actually dying of it right there on Jamaican soil, a sense of uncertainty seemed to hover and then settle like a heavy fog over the citizens of the country. Rumors that there would be a national lockdown circulated, and people began to stock up on what they considered the most essential items: sanitizers, bleach, non-perishable food items and, of course, toilet paper. Zoë-Grace had seen news reports of the run on toilet paper in the USA, but she was surprised when she tried to buy her usual supply and found that her local supermarket was out of most brands. She bought several cases of what was available so that her apartment, her mother’s house, and the community center would have stock for the foreseeable future.
The day after the work-from-home mandate was announced, the center began to be inundated with calls from people wanting to know if the shared workspace they had heard about was operational. Others were interested in the homework center, since their children had been thrust into an online learning environment and most students in the community didn’t have their own devices and lived in homes without consistent internet access.
On Wednesday of that week, Zoë-Grace consulted with the members of the board of the center, and they all agreed that while the official opening would be postponed for the short term, they would open the facility on a phased basis to meet the needs of those in the immediate community. Instead of having a grand launch and ribbon-cutting ceremony at the beginning of July, plans were being made to quietly open the doors at the end of March. That gave them just under two weeks to get everything in place to open the computer and homework centers and canteen. They expected to have the shared workspaces up and running a week or two after that. They would need to work day and night to get everything in place to fulfill the new protocols regarding physical distancing and sanitization.
That Thursday, Naydia, in her role as a member of the community center’s board, was interviewed by a local radio station. She did a great job of articulating the center’s short- and long-term plans. She mentioned that they would need staff, and by the following morning, only a week and a half after the confirmation that COVID had arrived in Jamaica, the board began receiving dozens of applications for daycare workers, homework center supervisors, canteen staff, receptionists, computer lab technicians, and janitorial staff. Many of those interested in working at the site brought in their applications personally, and a mask-wearing Zoë-Grace found herself meeting with interested applicants all day Friday.
She reached out to an amused Maxwell, with whom she had finally made contact, and the other professors at the college about possibly volunteering at the center a couple of hours per week and inviting their friends to do the same.
It had in many ways been the longest and the shortest week of her life. At night when she returned to her cottage, she could do little more than fall into bed and whisper a quick prayer for wisdom, tenacity, courage, and supernatural energy to continue the next day. As often as she thought of her mother, she thanked God for allowing them to move beyond the bitterness and resentment of the past and into a new paradigm in their relationship. But Zoë-Grace didn’t have much time to dwell on the fact that Isaiah was out of the country and, quite possibly, completely out of her life.