EPILOGUE
Maybe if Molly jiggled her headset a little more, it would break, and they’d have to get the I.T. guy back in to fix it. Or maybe the power would go out, and the computers would switch off.
Molly would never, ever be ready to flip the switch to open Migration’s hotline.
It would take bravery she didn’t possess. It would take way more than a plastic badge in her pocket, more than a new office four doors down from the Golden Spike Café. It would take more than three new desks, computers and chairs.
It would even take more than the small, sparkling diamond on her left hand, the one that kept freaking her out every time she forgot about it and saw it fresh all over again. Yes, it helped that Colin was standing next to her, that Nikki was at the next desk. She needed more than just guts, though. She wasn’t sure what. But she was pretty sure she didn’t quite have it yet.
Flipping the switch wasn’t so much as a switch as it was pushing the button that made their phones go live. Pushing that button meant that Migration would be ready to go. That it would be ready to help women who needed it.
It would mean they had all the answers.
And Molly knew they didn’t.
She looked up at Colin, who stood next to her. “What if –”
He cut her off. “You’ll know what to do.”
“But –”
“Just do it. You’re fully staffed with volunteers for what, the next two months?”
To Molly’s right, Nikki nodded and fiddled with her own new headset. “More like for the next six months. You’ll never have to be in here again, if you don’t want to be.”
Molly stared. “I want to be here.”
“I know you do. But you’ve already done so much, bringing in the counselors, training everyone in all your free time from the café, and I work with you, so don’t deny it’s taken over your life.”
“Amen,” said Colin fervently. Molly knew he was proud of her, and she also knew he wished she was working less. A lot less.
Nikki flapped a binder in her direction. “We’re prepared. Every volunteer knows what to do. What to say.”
“No one knows what to say all the time.”
Colin smiled at her and went into a crouch at her side. “You taught them that, too.”
“Oh, crap. So it’s time.” Terror made her bones feel as weak as tissue paper.
Nikki nodded. “Do it. Flip the switch. No one will call, anyway. What are the odds that the phone will ring even once on the first day?”
Molly put her head on the desk next to the fancy keypad that had myriad transfer capabilities, all of which Molly knew how to use. Theoretically. They’d tested every functionality. But they hadn’t needed all the bells and whistles when it really mattered. Not yet. “We advertised. Someone will call.”
“Not much, we didn’t.”
“Excuse me?” Molly thought of the checks she’d been writing from the album sales fund. Big checks. “We advertised in the New York Times. The Washington Post. We were featured on HuffPo and the Guardian and they did that segment on the Today Show.”
Colin squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“People are going to call. Oh, God.”
“Molly? It’ll be okay.”
His voice was soothing, but not quite soothing enough to make her push the button that pulsed on the screen at her, getting redder and angrier by the moment. LIVE, it read. It meant that they were live and receiving calls. On the other end of that button, there was a guy named Steve in Eureka who was watching to make sure all connections ran smoothly, that their internet connection was robust, that technical glitches wouldn’t put a caller in danger.
Only Molly and her volunteers could accidentally do that. Oh, God. The LIVE button seemed to mean more. It could be the difference between life and death for someone someday. This was huge. Enormous.
This was too much.
Colin stood, kissing her cheek as he rose. “You’ve got this. Do it.”
She slid a glance up at him. “Are you bossing me?”
“Would I do that?”
“Because you’d better not be.” Riled, she moved her mouse and clicked the LIVE button before she changed her mind again. “Holy crap. I did it.”
Nikki gave a short whoop. Colin clapped.
Molly leaned back in her new chair. “Oh, man.”
The phone rang.
Lord. Molly held her finger over the keypad. “Should I get it?” She looked at Nikki. “Should you?”
Nikki, her eyes wide, pointed at Molly.
Swallowing the deep breath she didn’t have time to take, Molly hit the “Answer” button. “Migration, are you in a safe location?” Her voice shook.
“I’m on my cell phone. I’ve got the kids with me. I saw your ad, and I cut it out, but I didn’t think I’d have to call – we’re in the car, and we can’t go back, but I don’t know where to go.”
Molly stared at her screen. Apps of all sorts littered the desktop. Five seconds ago, she knew how to use each one. Now her mind was completely blank.
The woman on the other end of the line said, “Hello? Are you there?”
Colin’s hand rested on Molly’s shoulder, warm and strong, as reassuring as his body was to her at night. He believed she could do this.
Nikki believed she could do this.
And deep down, Molly did, too. “Okay, tell me where you are. We’re going to get you some help.”
Colin grinned at her and Nikki did a silent happy dance in her chair.
The woman was in Florida, running away from a boyfriend who had hit her with his fists and then walloped their son with a length of wood. While they talked, Molly confirmed they didn’t need an ambulance, then pulled up the resource-management guide and directed her on the fastest route to the police department. She told the woman which words to say to the officer inside. She had the woman say them back to her.
“Okay. I’m parked in front of the station.” The woman’s voice was thin, as if it were a guitar string stretched too tight.
“You’re doing the right thing. What he did was not okay. It’s all right to take care of yourself and your children. Now go in there. While you’re in talking to the officer, I’m going to be texting you the directions to the safe house nearest you, okay? All you have to do is click the link, and your phone will guide you there. Does that make sense? I’ll send you a bunch of other resources for you to look at when you have time.”
The woman was crying now. “Yes.”
“I’ll stay on the phone with you while you go inside.”
“What if I say the wrong thing?”
Molly’s heart was thumping so loudly she wondered if Colin and Nikki could hear it. “It’s totally okay if you say the wrong thing. We all get scared. Just keep telling the truth about what’s going on, okay? That’s all that matters.”
“Thank you…Okay, we’re inside. Thank you again.” The line went dead.
Molly stared at the screen. “Oh, my God. What if I screwed that all up?”
Nikki pumped her fist. “You were perfect.”
“She’s right, my love.” Colin caught her hand and kissed it. “You just made a damn difference, you know that?”
Molly finally swallowed the lump in her throat that had lodged itself there at the beginning of the call. “I was so scared. But I wasn’t a hundredth as scared as she was. How do you get the bravery to do that? To go?”
Nikki said, “You don’t. Until one day, you just do. Remember what the counselor said? We can help. But we can’t make them do anything.”
“I hate that,” said Colin.
Both Molly and Nikki laughed.
He frowned. “I really do. I wish we could make every woman get help, and –”
The front door opened, and he broke off.
Molly swung her chair around to face the door. They weren’t expecting anyone, and it was a tiny call center – it wasn’t set up to receive people. Not yet, at least.
The sun glared through the glass, and the woman in the doorway was just a black outline.
Molly stood. “Hello? Can we help you?”
With a thud, the woman dropped a suitcase to the floor. “What’s up?”
Molly’s heart rose back into her throat. “Lana?”
“I’ve had a crappy trip. So don’t hug me. Don’t make a big deal about it.”
Don’t hug her? Don’t make a big deal?
Yeah, right.
Lana was about to get a lesson in how Molly didn’t get bossed around anymore. Molly threw herself at her sister so hard they almost fell over together.
And Lana hugged Molly back every bit as tightly.