Come to the Table

by Neta Jackson

  Kat’s voice on the speaker sounded almost like a whisper. “September. But Pastor Cobbs suggested doing a trial run in August—right after I’m done volunteering with the STEP program the end of July.”

  “Oh.” Edesa almost laughed. “What’s that—less than three weeks away? We certainly do need to pray! Only God can pull this off! Let’s pray right now.” Turning on both washing machines and with the phone to her ear, Edesa slowly walked back up the outside stairs to her apartment, praying every step of the way.

  “Oh, thank you, Sister Edesa. I appreciate it so much—Oh, hey, I’m here at the coffee shop. Gotta go. But if you don’t mind, I’ll call back in a day or two. I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of prayer.”

  Edesa kept thinking about the phone call as she picked up Gracie, promising Sabrina she’d return the favor by keeping Timmy soon, read a Winnie the Pooh story to Gracie before putting her down for her nap, and then fixed a quesadilla for her own lunch. Funny how Kat’s phone call was affecting her. The enthusiastic girl had come to her first with her idea, and seemed to consider her a major prayer partner in this project. But did God mean for her to be a major player in this project as well?

  Licking the melted cheese off her fingers, Edesa realized something had shifted. For weeks now, she had felt God nudging her to gently challenge Kat to a deeper walk with God, to come alongside and help channel her enthusiastic ideas into “reasonable service.” But right now, Kat’s call was challenging her.

  “Señor,” she breathed, head in her hands over her empty plate, “if You are calling me to get involved in this food pantry idea, please make it clear.”

  It was only when she finally rose from the small kitchen table and filled the sink with soapy water to wash up the breakfast and lunch dishes that she realized she’d never added detergent to the two loads of dirty clothes.

  Chapter 28

  Frustrated, Edesa threw the dish scrubber into the sink. She had no choice. Checking to make sure Gracie was asleep, she ran down the back stairs to the basement, stopped the washers, measured detergent into both machines, and ran back upstairs. Heart pounding from the exertion, Edesa listened . . . no sound from Gracie’s bedroom. She peeked in. All was well.

  So why was she suddenly crying?

  Her knees suddenly feeling wobbly, Edesa made it into her bedroom, turned on the fan, and sank down on the double bed. She still had a lot to do—dishes weren’t done, laundry would need drying, she needed to prepare for the Friday Bible study at Manna House, make supper, and pick up the apartment for the household meeting that night. But if she could shut her eyes for just a little while, until the laundry needed switching or Gracie woke up, whichever came first . . .

  But it was the phone that rattled her out of a deep sleep. Two rings, three . . . four . . . five . . . before she picked it up in the kitchen.

  “Edesa?” Josh on the line. “Thought you and Gracie might be out. Just wanted to tell you these errands are taking longer than I thought. Might not be home till supper. Will you be okay?”

  Not till supper. She sighed. “Sure. We’ll manage.”

  “Is everything all right? You don’t sound too good.”

  Get a grip, Edesa. “I’m fine. Just fell asleep when Gracie went down for her nap. Still groggy. But, Josh, I wish . . .”

  “Yeah? Wish what, sweetheart?”

  “I wish we could skip the household meeting tonight and go out, just you and me. Since it’s my birthday.”

  “Aw, honey, I know. But Bertie just moved in a few weeks ago, and you know Gabby wants to get started off on the right foot, with everyone in the building present when she reviews the house rules and stuff. I’m sorry. But we’ll do something to celebrate your birthday this weekend, okay?”

  “Okay . . . Te amo.”

  “Love you more. See you in a couple hours.”

  Hanging up the phone, Edesa took a deep breath and glanced at the wall clock. She’d slept for almost an hour and did feel better. Josh was right. It wouldn’t be good to skip the household meeting. After all, he was the property manager and she was volunteer staff for the House of Hope. What did it matter if they celebrated her birthday today or two days from now? That would give her a few more days to pray about Kat’s phone call, and then she could talk about it with Josh. Right now, she needed to finish the dishes and get started on that Bible study she had to teach on Friday before Gracie woke up.

  When the phone rang again shortly after four, Gracie was up and Edesa hoped it was Josh saying he was on his way home, but the caller ID said Gabrielle Fairbanks. “Hi, Edesa! It’s Gabby . . . I just got home from picking up the boys. For some reason our hot water is off. I’m down here in the basement but can’t see what’s wrong. Hopefully it’s just the pilot light on the water heater. Can you ask Josh to look at it? Did you have hot water when you did your laundry today?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t stay to check. I usually do the wash-and-wear in cold water anyway.” Edesa cradled the phone between ear and shoulder so she could pry open a small container of red play dough for Gracie, who was busily smashing blue kiddie clay into flat pancakes. “But, uh, Gabby, could you do me a favor and put my white load into the dryer—be sure it’s the one that’s working. I’m up here alone with Gracie.”

  “Oh, sure. Hang on a moment . . .”

  Edesa heard the banging of washing machine lids, and then Gabby came back on the line. “Um, Edesa? Not sure what happened, but the powdered soap is still sitting on top of the clothes, though the clothes look wet. Did you stop the machines and then add the soap? Maybe you forgot to start them again . . . Edesa? Edesa, are you crying? It’s not a big deal. I’ll start them now . . . Okay, okay, you hold on. I’m coming up.”

  Edesa felt better after a good cry on Gabby’s shoulder. “Don’t mind me,” she finally said, blowing her nose. “I’m fine, really. Just one of those days. Probably my monthly’s a little off. Stupid of me to feel sorry for myself just because it’s my birthday. I’m acting like a ten-year-old.”

  She kissed the top of Gracie’s head, who’d crawled into her lap when she saw her mother crying and had patted her cheek, crooning, “Be happy, Mommy, be happy.”

  Gabby snorted. “Hey, you’ve got nothing on me. I win the feel-sorry-for-myself award on neglected birthdays. Remember the year Philip kicked me out? I was sure no one would remember my birthday, and I ended up getting Chinese takeout, renting a couple movies, and barging in on Precious and Tanya for a blubber-fest.” The curly redhead started to laugh. “Later it turned out to be one of my most amazing birthdays ever.” She poked Edesa with an elbow. “Who knows? Maybe for you too.”

  The front door of the apartment opened and they heard Josh holler, “I’m home! Where are my girls? I’ve got Pastelitos de Carne to go!”

  “See?” Gabby jumped up from the kitchen table. “Now you don’t have to cook on your birthday. But I do, so I’d better run. See you at seven?” She hesitated and gave Edesa a funny look. “Sure you’re all right?”

  “Sí, sí! Go, go. But you can tell Josh about the hot water heater on your way out.” No way did she want to be the one to tell her husband he still had work to do after he’d been out all day.

  But as it turned out, it was just the pilot light that’d gone out, and by the time the residents of the House of Hope began to arrive—minus the kids, who were all watching Doctor Doolittle in Gabby’s apartment under the supervision of Sabrina and P.J.—she and Josh had feasted on the deep-fried pastries filled with meat, rice, and vegetables, bathed and put Gracie to bed, and even had a few moments to cuddle on the couch in the living room. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Josh had whispered into her ear, “I haven’t forgotten your birthday.”

  Neither had the others. Precious from 1A was the last to arrive, holding a birthday cake ablaze with lit candles out in front of her as if afraid her hair would catch fire. “Make a wish quick, girl, and blow out them candles, or we gonna be eating wax with our frosting!” Chagrined at her
earlier “poor me” tears, Edesa laughed with delight, breathed a silent prayer for God to bless everyone under the House of Hope roof, and blew—though it took three breaths to blow out all twenty-seven candles.

  Eating the rich double-fudge chocolate cake turned out to be the “spoonful of sugar making the medicine go down” as Gabby (housemother) and Josh (building guru) tackled items on the agenda—particularly the announcement that the washers and dryers in the basement would be temporarily out of commission until he got them repaired. Until then, residents would need to use the local Laundromat. Next, a review of the House Rules for the newest residents, including a reminder that Quiet Hours for loud music and noise in the stairwell were nine o’clock on weeknights and eleven o’clock on weekends. And last but not least, a request to use the temporary cardboard boxes in the basement for recyclables until the city delivered the replacement bins.

  “Anything else?” Gabby asked as the time edged toward eight o’clock. She grinned at Josh. “I think you have something, right?”

  Josh—the only male in the gaggle of females crowded into the Baxter living room—scrambled to his feet. “I do. Señora”— he bowed dramatically and held out his hand to Edesa—“right this way.”

  Laughing, Edesa took his hand. “What?” Her confusion— or maybe sheer curiosity—grew as he led her out the apartment door and started down the stairs, followed by all the House of Hope residents, most of whom were as curious and excited as Edesa. On the first floor, Gabby opened her apartment door and called to the kids to join them for a surprise.

  Which made for a noisy troupe piling out the front door of the House of Hope and spilling onto the sidewalk. By now Edesa could hardly imagine what in the world Josh had up his sleeve, especially when he said, “Close your eyes!” and led her several yards down the sidewalk.

  Then they stopped. Edesa felt everyone crowding around and heard a few gasps. “Okay, you can look,” Josh said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

  Edesa opened her eyes. Parked in front of her was a navy blue minivan with a huge red bow on top. Her eyes widened. “Josh! You bought . . . a car? How can we—”

  His arm gave her a big squeeze. “I distinctly remember both of us agreeing a few weeks ago that we definitely needed to get a car,” he murmured. “And don’t worry. It’s secondhand, a 2003 Chevy Venture. It’s in terrific shape, and I got it for a very good price—even less than we agreed we could spend. Just sorry it took me all day.”

  All day. She leaned into him. “Oh, Josh. I’m sorry . . .”

  “For what, sweetheart?” He handed her a car key. “Go on, look inside.”

  By now, Gabby, Precious, and the other residents were clapping, oohing, and aahing, and once the minivan was unlocked, the kids scrambled in and out. Edesa was thrilled to see that they could carry at least seven passengers in the three rows of seats, with room in the back for . . . hauling food for the food pantry?

  Where did that thought come from?

  “See?” Gabby whispered to her as Josh finally relocked the car and removed the big red bow to make it less attractive to car thieves. “Didn’t I say you just might get an awesome birthday after all?”

  Why was she so tired? Josh, bless him, had gone up and down the stairs after the house meeting Wednesday evening, running their clothes through the sort-of-working dryer before he took it apart the next day, so she couldn’t blame running up and down stairs. And she did manage to finish planning her Bible study during Gracie’s nap on Thursday, so she wasn’t really feeling anxious when she went to bed last night. But she still felt as if she was dragging when Josh, driving the “new” minivan, dropped her off at Manna House at ten Friday morning to give her time to set up for the Bible study at ten thirty.

  Sweet of Josh to keep Gracie till she was done teaching. She waved good-bye to them at the door, then headed for the kitchen on the lower level. Coffee . . . she needed a good strong cup of Estelle’s coffee to pick her up. But on second thought, she made a cup of peppermint tea instead. Maybe she was fighting a touch of the summer flu. Her mama had sworn by peppermint tea for whatever ailed you.

  After a brief hug for Estelle in the kitchen and poking her head into Gabby’s office to say, “Hola!” Edesa hurried back to Shepherd’s Fold on the first floor—and was surprised to run into Avis Douglass’s daughter. “Rochelle! And Conny! Hey there, little guy.” She gave them both warm hugs. “What are you two doing here?”

  Rochelle was certainly looking better in the few weeks since she’d come off the streets and started living with the Crista University students. Though still slender, her face had filled out, her honey-toned skin seemed more golden, and her dark eyes were bright. She must be managing the HIV with proper meds and good food, which was encouraging.

  “Oh, we’re on a mission for Kat.” Rochelle grinned at Edesa. “She asked if I’d check out places to get flyers printed for the new food pantry at SouledOut—you heard that the pastors gave the go-ahead, didn’t you? One of the copy shops is nearby so I decided to drop in, thought you might be here. Are you still teaching your Bible study on Friday mornings?”

  Edesa felt pleased that Rochelle—who’d been an occasional guest at the shelter—would remember the Bible study. “Sí. In fact, I’m getting ready to start now. Can you stay? I’m teaching on a special prayer the apostle Paul prayed for people he cared about—”

  Rochelle shrugged. “Sure. And . . . I’d like to talk to you afterward, if you have time. Uh, is Gracie here? Maybe Conny could play . . .”

  Edesa shook her head. “But we can get him some books or drawing supplies to keep him busy.” Conny, however, had already made a beeline for a plastic bin of Legos someone had left in a corner of the big room.

  The next five minutes were busy as they dragged the assorted couches and chairs into a semicircle, and right at ten thirty, eight or nine women straggled in—a pretty good turnout for a pleasant summer day. Edesa had long since given up evaluating the success of the Bible study on how many of the residents turned out. If only one woman is touched by something in the Word, that’s enough, she often told herself.

  Her Scripture passage was from Paul’s letter to the Colossians, chapter 1, where the apostle prayed for the tiny church. Passing out the shelter Bibles—some in Spanish—Edesa asked various women to read his prayer requests for this group of people: that they’d understand the will of God . . . that their lives would be pleasing to God . . . that they’d prosper in the work God had given them to do . . . that they’d draw on the strength of God to persevere when things got tough . . . and finally, that they’d give thanks for their inheritance in the kingdom of God.

  As usual, the women—many struggling just to hold body and soul together—had a lot of tough questions.

  “How we s’posed ta know what the heck the will of God is?”

  “Don’t think losin’ my apartment was the will of God!”

  “Did you say prosper in the work we s’posed to do? Humph. Gotta get me a job first.”

  But some said they could sure use some strength from God when things got tough, and a few admitted some of their choices probably didn’t please God, so they could use prayer for better ones next time.

  “No easy answers,” Edesa said to Rochelle ruefully as they pushed the couches and chairs back into place an hour later. “But it’s good. The women always challenge me and make me wrestle with the Scriptures too.” She flopped down on one of the threadbare couches they’d just arranged back into one of several “conversation groups” around the room. “Whew! Teaching wears me out. But you wanted to talk? We usually stay for lunch, but I think we still have half an hour . . . Oh, there’s Josh and Gracie! Hi, honey! Give us a few minutes, okay?”

  With a wave toward the couch, Josh headed for the corner with Gracie and squatted down beside Conny, who was still engrossed in building a complicated Lego structure. Rochelle curled up on the other end of the couch but seemed distracted as she watched what was going on across the room, where Josh
seemed to be asking Conny questions about what he was building and pointing out things to Gracie. Finally she murmured, “He’s really good with Gracie, isn’t he? Josh, I mean. Even though she’s adopted.”

  Edesa smiled. “Yes, he is. From day one, he’s loved her like his own.” She is his own, she felt like adding.

  “Yeah, I can tell.” There was a long pause. Then . . . “Nick Taylor is good with Conny too.”

  A prickly feeling crawled up Edesa’s spine. “Rochelle, what’s going on? Are you and Nick . . . ?” She stopped, not sure what to say.

  Rochelle’s cheeks flushed. “I . . . don’t know. He’s really taken a shine to Conny and seems to respect me as a mom. I never wanted to be a single mom, but, well, things didn’t work out with Dexter. In fact”—she rolled her eyes—“he’s been making things real difficult. But when I see Nick with Conny, I think, that’s the kind of man I’d like to be married to, the kind of man Conny could look up to. Except, well . . . he’s white.” She eyed Edesa nervously. “Like Josh.”

  Edesa chuckled. “Sí, like Mr. Pale Face over there. Believe me, girl, mixed marriages have their challenges. We have been very fortunate.”

  “Yeah. You guys seem to be making it work.” Rochelle studied her nails for a moment. “To be honest, I’d like Conny to be raised by a decent black man, someone like my dad or my step-dad. Black boys still have it tough, developing a positive identity and defying the stereotypes. But that was before I met Nick, and . . . well, he’s a really great guy. And I’m thinking, maybe it would be okay. Him and me and Conny.”

  Seeing the serious expression on Rochelle’s face, Edesa reached out and took the girl’s hand. “Rochelle, I agree. Nick Taylor is a really nice guy. But tell me this. Has Nick ever said anything to you, that he’s interested in you that way?”

  Avis’s daughter laughed nervously. “I don’t know! I mean, not exactly. But he treats me really nice—a lot nicer than Dexter ever treated me. I feel . . . respected. And sometimes I catch him looking at me, you know, like he finds me attractive.”