by Neta Jackson
Kat got off work at nine o’clock.
Nick showed up at The Common Cup just as Kat barreled out the door, intent on slipping her arms into the straps of her backpack. “Whoa! Not so fast,” he said and laughed as she crashed right into him.
“Nick!” Kat’s blue eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”
He couldn’t help the broad grin that creased his face. “Just coming from SouledOut. Had my first meeting with Pastor Cobbs and Mrs. Doug—uh, Sister Avis.” He felt his face flush. “She asked me to call her that.”
Kat giggled. “Do they know we usually call them Mrs. D and Mr. D? Probably not. Don’t think we’ve done it to their face.”
“Yeah. Afraid I’m going to slip. Anyway, thought I’d come by, walk you home. I needed to unwind. The meeting gave me a lot to think about.”
“So tell me.”
He wanted so badly to take her hand, but he just held on to the membership packet as he reviewed everything they’d talked about. “I think I’m in over my head, Kat.”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Now listen here, Nick Taylor. Of course you’re in over your head. It’s called swimming. You can’t swim if you’re still wading in the shallow end. This is what you’ve been preparing for, for years! You’ve told me yourself that God put a call on your life. Right? So now it’s time to jump in.”
Standing there, he watched the animation in her face. This was the Kat he liked so much. Upbeat. Positive. Plunging ahead. Sure of herself. Sure of him.
Maybe now was the time to talk about how he felt about her.
“Anyway . . .” She started walking again. “Don’t mean to change the subject, but this morning you said you wanted to talk to me. Guess now’s as good a time as any.”
What—? For a few precious minutes he’d totally forgotten he had to clear up whatever misimpression she’d gotten last night. Guessed he better do that first. “Oh. That. Yeah, well, just wanted to say something about what happened in the hallway last night—”
“Uh-huh. I knew that was it. Sorry about the way I acted. Just took me by surprise, you know?”
He snorted. “Took you by surprise. Me too. But I just wanted to say—”
“I know, I know. Don’t get your tail in a knot about it, Nick. She was just thanking you for reading to Conny, for being such a good buddy to him. Didn’t mean anything. Right?”
He felt flustered. “Yeah. That’s what I was going to say. Didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. But—” She stopped again and faced him. “There is one thing I need to say. And it’s a serious problem.”
Nick’s heart felt like it skipped a beat or two. She got it? But there was a serious problem?
“Don’t forget, Rochelle is HIV positive. We don’t want to freak out about it, but we can’t ignore it either. It’s passed by body fluids—blood, saliva, what have you.”
“Saliva! That’s not what I’ve—”
“Nick.” Kat laid her hand on his arm. “I know she was just being friendly, but to be on the safe side, don’t let her kiss you again, even on the cheek. What if you’d nicked yourself shaving or something! We should talk about how to protect the rest of us too.”
Nick shook his head. “You’re wrong, Kat. I mean, you’re right, we should educate ourselves about living with HIV and take any necessary precautions, but I’ve never heard it can be passed by saliva or kissing.”
Kat gave him a strange look. “Fine.”
But she walked the rest of the way back to the apartment in silence.
Chapter 7
Gracie whined and rubbed her eyes as Edesa lugged her up the stairs to their third-floor apartment at the House of Hope. She found her husband sprawled on the couch in the living room, dabs of dark-green paint in odd places on his face and clothes. Josh sat up and yawned. “You’re back. How’d it go?”
Edesa grimaced. “Could ask you the same thing. But Gracie’s falling apart. She only napped twenty minutes. I need to get her in the tub and ready for bed. Any chance you could heat up these leftovers Estelle sent home with me?” She held out a plastic grocery bag.
“Uhhh, I guess.” Josh reluctantly pushed himself off the couch, took the bag, and trudged down the hallway to the kitchen. Edesa bit back a frustrated comment. All he had to do was heat it up, for goodness’ sake!
Peeling off Gracie’s sweaty shirt, shorts, and diaper, Edesa squirted bubble bath into the tepid water filling the tub. Gracie used to be able to take a nap just about anywhere, but those days were over. “In you go, niña.”
Gracie’s tears turned to giggles as the bubbles clung like gossamer fairy frocks to her tawny legs and torso. Edesa sat on the closed toilet lid, letting the child splash herself clean for the most part. In spite of her weariness, her heart swelled with amazement that God had brought them this far since that cold November day . . .
The day she and Josh, newly engaged, had discovered the Hispanic woman shivering in a doorway, clutching her tiny, three-month-old baby. They’d quickly brought the mother and child into the warm arms of the shelter where they volunteered. Who could’ve known that simple act of kindness would cause the woman to leave a note at the shelter saying if anything happened to her, she wanted Edesa to raise her baby—a note found after the woman, gone missing, was discovered in a crack house, dead of a drug overdose.
“Look, Mommy!” Gracie was piling handfuls of airy suds onto the top of her head. “See my hat?”
Edesa smiled wearily. What she wouldn’t give to soak in a bubble bath and go to bed herself. Except she still had the Friday morning Bible study at Manna House to prepare—and so far no ideas.
Finally gathering her slippery daughter into a large towel, Edesa dressed her in a clean diaper and lightweight pajamas and headed for the kitchen. Josh had the small table set and was dishing up Spanish rice, green beans, and fried chicken warmed up in the microwave. “You, my darling,” he said with a grin, “can bring home Estelle’s leftovers anytime. Do those women at Manna House realize what a gem they’ve got cooking for them?”
Edesa’s previous irritation melted. Josh was like the son in one of Jesus’ parables, who at first balked at doing what his father asked but did it anyway—which Jesus commended over the other son who said, “Sure!” but never followed through.
But supper turned out to be a wrestling match, with Gracie deciding she didn’t like green beans and throwing them on the floor. But when the rice followed, Edesa unbuckled her from the booster seat and took off her bib. “That’s enough, young lady. Time for night-night. Come on, you can choose one story and—”
“No! Want Daddy to read me a story!”
Josh held out his arms. “It’s all right. I’ll put her down.”
Edesa watched as Josh sauntered down the hallway with Gracie snuggled on his shoulder, disappearing into her bedroom. Daddy . . .
Sighing, she started cleaning up the remains of Gracie’s supper from the floor. Did that little girl have any idea how blessed she was? One day they’d tell her the story about how Josh had dropped out of college and moved up their wedding date, just so baby Gracie could have both a mom and a dad right off the bat. They’d had a Christmas wedding at Manna House—and to Edesa, the story of Joseph the carpenter being told by God’s angel, “Don’t be afraid! Go ahead, marry this young virgin and raise baby Jesus as your own,” felt very close to home.
Amazing grace. Amazing Gracie.
Floor cleaned and dishes done, Edesa finally curled up in the living room with her Bible, trying to prepare for tomorrow. Her eyes drooped . . . Why was she so tired? But a few minutes later Josh joined her, flopping on the other end of the couch. “She’s out. And I’m done in.”
“Looks like you could use a bath too,” she smirked. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’ve got paint—”
“Ha. You think this is bad? P.J. and Paul looked like little green men from Mars by the time we got done. Gabby sent them in old
T-shirts and shorts, but that outdoor paint is weather-resistant. Might be resistant to coming off their hair, legs, hands, and faces too.”
Edesa laughed. “So how’d it go?”
Josh shrugged. “Gabby’s paying the boys, so I think they’ll show up tomorrow. We got more done with three of us than just me, though I had to ride herd on them pretty hard to keep them on task. We’ll probably have to work Saturday too.” He looked at her curiously. “How’d it work out doing the shopping trip with ‘Miss Gato’?”
Edesa didn’t know whether to laugh at the green spot on his nose or groan at his question. “I don’t know. I think she and Estelle got off on the wrong foot.”
“What happened?”
She held up her Bible. “Uh . . . maybe we can talk later. I still don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow for the Bible study at Manna House.”
“Oh. Okay.” Josh pushed himself off the couch. “Do the women in Estelle’s cooking class come to the Bible study? You could always talk about Jesus feeding the five thousand with just a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish. Talk about making food stretch!” He chuckled at his little joke and disappeared into the bathroom.
Jesus feeding the five thousand? That was in all four gospels, wasn’t it? Edesa turned to the concordance in the back of her study Bible. Jesus feeding the people. Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all . . .
Gabby Fairbanks helped Edesa arrange several of the couches and chairs into a circle the next morning. Gracie was being doted on by two of the Manna House residents waiting for the Friday morning Bible study to start.
“Hope more women show up for the Bible study.” Gabby shoved one last chair into place. “A lot of the residents have gone out. The rain last night cooled things off and it’s a pretty nice day, not too hot.”
Edesa shrugged. “Can’t worry about that. Jesus said if even two or three gather in His name, He’ll be present with us.”
The curly headed program director wagged her head. “See, Edesa? Nothing gets you down. How do you do it?”
Edesa looked up at the mural overlooking Shepherd’s Fold. A life-size Jesus had been painted on the wall, surrounded by a ragtag flock of sheep in all different colors: black, tan, brown, white. Most of the sheep looked a bit worse for wear. Some had dirty, patchy wool, a few looked worried or sad, several had bandaged wounds, one had a torn ear. Edesa pointed to the small brown lamb tucked in the arm of the Good Shepherd. “That’s me. Not very strong. Not very brave. But as long as I remember who’s got me in His arms, I know I’m okay . . . Oh, Gabby!” She gasped. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Gabby had fished out a tissue and was blotting her face. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just thinking about my mom and how she’d love to hear what you just said.”
Edesa gave her a warm hug. “Naming this room after Martha Shepherd is a fitting memorial—and you, dear friend, are more like her than you realize.”
“What’s with all this lovey-dovey stuff?” A familiar voice broke into the hug. “We gonna have a Bible study this morning or not?”
Edesa grinned at the wiry woman who’d flopped onto one of the couches holding a squirming one-year-old. “Precious! What are you and Timmy doing here?” Precious McGill was one of the single women living at the House of Hope with her daughter, Sabrina, now seventeen, and grandson, Timmy.
“Came for the Bible study, whatchu think? Well, that, an’ the fact that Sabrina is off lookin’ for a summer job an’ I’m stuck watchin’ Lil’ Turkey here. Had an idea Gracie would be here too. I got some toys from the playroom, thought they could play together durin’ the study. I’ll keep an eye on ’em while you teach.”
“Precious,” Gabby murmured, “if you keep calling that boy Lil’ Turkey, it’s going to stick . . . Oh, here come a few others.” The program director raised her voice. “Ladies? If you’re here for the Bible study, Edesa’s ready to get started.”
Edesa was glad to see Penny, LaDonna, and Beverly among the several women who wandered into the circle and took a seat. After yesterday’s shopping trip, the Bible study today might be particularly relevant. No Shawanda, though. Like Precious, Shawanda and her two children lived at the House of Hope and came back to Manna House for her case management meetings and some of the activities. But the Bible study hadn’t been high on the young woman’s priority list.
After passing out the stack of hardcover Bibles some church had donated to the shelter, Edesa began with a prayer. “Señor, we want to thank You for sending Your Son, Jesús Cristo, to live among us here on earth, showing us by His words and deeds the truths You want to teach us. Help us to have open ears, open minds, and open hearts today as we study Your Word. Amen.”
A few amens peppered the circle, along with childish voices in the far corner playing with a shape sorter under Precious’s supervision.
“The story we’re going to read today is found in all four gospels. Penny, would you read Matthew, chapter 14, verses 13 through—”
“What page number?” Penny interrupted.
Good thing they were all using the same Bible. Page numbers worked as Edesa also assigned the same story in the gospels of Mark, Luke, and John to different women. It took awhile to read, even though the story was short, as some were better readers than others. But finally the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand had been read four times.
“Tell me what stands out for you in this story.”
“You the teacher,” LaDonna complained. “Ain’t you s’posed to tell us?”
But at Edesa’s prompting, several of the women ventured comments.
“Don’t know why people didn’t bring they own food.”
“How did Jesus talk to so many people with no microphone?”
“Why’s it say five thousand mens? Musta been a buncha women an’ younguns too, ’cause it was a boy who gave Jesus his lunch.”
“Yeah. Now that was a smart mama who sent him off that day”—a comment greeted with general laughter.
Precious had wandered closer to the circle, still keeping an eye on Timmy and Gracie. “I’m thinkin’ the disciples wanted to send all them folks away because they own stomachs was growlin’ an’ they forgot to bring anything to eat. Just like a man. My two cents.” More laughter.
LaDonna snickered. “Yeah, but says here Jesus put the brakes on that. Told ’em, no, we gonna feed ’em. Bring Me what little you got.”
Edesa beamed. They were getting it. “Think about that, mi amigas. Even though Jesus had just been teaching these people ‘many things’ and healing their sick, at the end of the day He was concerned about a more immediate need: these people were hungry. They needed food. Not just spiritual food. Something to put in their stomachs.”
“Humph. Somebody oughta tell some o’ the preachers in this town ’bout that,” LaDonna muttered. “They talk a fine talk, but ask ’em for some money to feed your kids? Like as not, they gonna send you someplace else.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Edesa saw Estelle Bentley leaning against the open doorway, arms crossed across her big white apron. How long had she been standing there? “Estelle,” she called, “you work with food all the time. Do you have anything you’d like to add?”
“Uh-huh, I do.” Estelle moved closer to the group and leaned her hands on the back of one of the couches. “Jesus called Himself the Bread of Life. Used to wonder why He did that. But the way I see it, our souls need Jesus the way our bodies need food to survive.”
“Didn’t Jesus cook breakfast on the beach for His disciples after He rose from the dead?” Precious added. “I mean, that Man could eat.”
“Uh-huh,” Beverly said. “My mama useta read Bible stories to us kids, an’ seemed like Jesus was always eatin’ with folks—rich folks, poor folks, sinner folks, sick folks, women folks, ha-ha, even short folks like that Zacchaeus fellow.”
Loud guffaws this time.
Edesa felt goose bumps prickling the back of her neck. In reading the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand, she’d w
anted the women to see that Jesus was concerned about their physical needs as well as their spiritual needs. But they were recalling other Bible stories and making connections. If only Kathryn Davies had been here for this discussion! It might have been a good launching pad to talk about—
A wail broke into her thoughts and Precious darted back to the corner. “No, no, Timmy. No hittin’! Gracie, sweetie, are you okay, baby?”
Edesa realized she should wind this up. “Ladies, let’s come back to this topic next week. In the meantime, read those Bibles! Just choose one of the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John—and read it through this week. Those are the Jesus stories. Come back next Friday with more thoughts and questions about Jesus, the Bread of Life.” She looked around the circle. Could she squeeze out five more minutes? “Before we leave, mis hermanas, let’s pray for each other . . .”
Edesa sat Gracie on the counter between the kitchen and dining room on the lower level and handed Estelle a sippy cup. “Can you spare a little milk, Estelle?”
“For you? No. For Miss Sugar here? Anything.” Estelle chuckled as she got out a jug of two percent and filled the sippy cup. “Here . . . you two stayin’ for lunch?”
Edesa shook her head. “No. Just waiting for Miss Gabby. She’s giving me and Precious and the babies a ride back to the House of Hope. Her boys are helping Josh paint the back porches and she wants to check in. And I want to be sure Gracie gets a good nap today. Going food shopping with your cooking class was fun, but . . . you-know-who kind of fell apart later.”
“Who? Miss Gato?” Estelle winked.
“Ha-ha. Very funny. Though . . .” Edesa frowned. “Kathryn did act kind of funny before she left the store yesterday. I don’t know, Estelle, what do you think? She wants us to teach some kind of nutrition class together. I think she means well, wants people to ‘eat right’ both for their own health and for ‘the environment,’ whatever that means. I thought going along on the shopping trip with some of the ladies here would be an eye-opener. But she seemed . . . how do you say? Perturbado.”