The First Ladies Club Box Set

by J B Hawker

Yvonne rummaged in the glove compartment for the registration and handed over the documents with trembling fingers.

  The officer took the papers back to his vehicle and entered the information into his onboard computer.

  In a matter of moments, he stepped out again with his weapon drawn.

  “Yvonne Jones. Step out of the car with your hands up,” he called.

  Yvonne’s shoulders slumped and she rested her head on the steering wheel.

  When the officer repeated his order, she followed his instructions.

  She was soon handcuffed and locked in the back of the cruiser on her way back to Bannoch.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  When Dawn awoke the next morning in a strange bed, her gut reaction was resentment at yet another new foster home. But that was before she sat up and took in her surroundings.

  This bedroom was cozier than her usual accommodations, with a warm, brightly colored comforter and soft, fluffy pillows on the bed.

  Sunshine streamed into the room through crisp white curtains framing a large window. Matching dresser, desk, and bedside tables were painted a soft, buttery yellow and were complemented by a grouping of colorful floral paintings on the wall opposite the bed.

  Sliding off the comfy mattress, Dawn’s toes sank into the plush carpet, an unknown luxury in her previous experience.

  She lowered herself onto the floor and sat cross-legged, running her fingers through the carpet pile and looking around in wonder.

  Dawn recalled the night before when Hope and the pastor brought her home with them after finding out that nasty old Mrs. Jones had done a runner.

  The social worker had shown up while they were eating dinner, making Dawn so sick to her stomach she couldn’t eat another bite of the good food Gideon had cooked for them.

  Dawn had been shocked when he said he’d fix the meal while she and Hope washed and changed into clean clothes. What kind of man does that?

  When Dawn had emerged from the bathroom wearing one of her two everyday outfits, Hope had taken one look and given her a pretty pink bathrobe to change into.

  At first, Dawn was insulted that Hope didn’t like her clothes, but when she compared the tight leggings and sheer lace top she was wearing to Hope’s simple slacks and pullover, she had to admit her own clothes looked pretty bad.

  Before dinner, Hope had looked at all the things in Dawn’s bag and taken them away to launder.

  Sitting at the table wearing Hope’s robe with the sleeves rolled up and the hem dragging on the floor, she’d wanted to run away when the tall social worker walked in. Only her fear of tripping on the over-sized garment had kept her glued to the chair.

  Gideon had invited the woman to join them at the table and she’d smiled, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside Dawn, who tried to hide her surprise.

  “You must be Dawn Thompson,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “I’m Mrs. Merriweather. You can call me Merry.”

  Just like that, she’d treated Dawn like a real person.

  Hope handed Mrs. Merriweather a plate filled with pasta and salad and this sophisticated older lady accepted it graciously, making herself at home.

  The conversation around the table was all about the ill-fated church camping trip. No one even mentioned Dawn’s situation.

  After dinner, Hope had brought Dawn up to this bedroom, where she gave her a faded over-sized tee-shirt to sleep in and tucked her into bed.

  Dawn had been so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that even her anxiety couldn’t keep her from falling asleep.

  Awake now, all her worries and fears flooded back. What was going to happen to her?

  While their young houseguest was upstairs worrying, Hope and Gideon were in the kitchen discussing her future.

  “I think I owe social workers an apology,” Hope said, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Why is that?” Gideon asked around a mouthful of toast.

  “Mrs. Merriweather is nothing like the gorgons I had in mind. She was so understanding and helpful. I was prepared to do battle with her to get her to let Dawn stay, even for one night.”

  “I noticed your initial resistance to having her here. You were so tense, you ate almost as little of my good cooking as Dawn did,” he said.

  “I expected Mrs. Merriweather to object when I took Dawn up to bed. I thought she would want to take her away last night,” Hope said.

  “I sort of expected the same thing,” Gideon nodded.

  “When I came back downstairs and she pulled out that sheaf of paper from her briefcase, I expected the worst. When she told us that the document was our application to become emergency foster parents, I was astonished.”

  “It was a surprise, alright. But as Merry said, there just aren’t enough foster parents to go around. She didn’t want to see Dawn shunted off to some group home, even temporarily,” Gideon said.

  “Those papers we filled out will keep Dawn here for now, or at least until someplace more suitable is found. It was so gracious of Merry to do the home inspection herself last night,” Hope said.

  “Lucky for us our house has all their requirements. Shoot, with our spare rooms, we could take in a passel of kids,” Gideon joked, then sobered, saying, “There is certainly a need for more good places for these kids.”

  Looking out the window, Gideon sipped his coffee, then turned.

  “You know, if our grandmother hadn’t taken us in, Shebana and I would have ended up in foster care. You hear such horror stories... even worse than neglectful situations such as with the execrable Mrs. Jones,” he said.

  “Yeah. I know,” Hope said, coming up behind her husband and resting her head on his shoulder.

  “There’s something I’ve never told you,” she said.

  Gideon twisted around, looking her in the eye, “What?”

  “I was raised... if that’s what you can call it... in and out of foster care,” she said, averting her eyes.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Gideon asked, frowning at her obvious distress.

  “I was ashamed, I guess.”

  “Whatever for? It couldn’t have been your fault. Tell me what happened to your parents.”

  “My mom died,” she said.

  “How? When? How old were you?”

  “There was a fire. Neighbors saw the flames. Firemen got me out. I was three,” she replied in a monotone.

  “Your parents didn’t escape?” Gideon prompted.

  “They were stoned. The report said they were cooking drugs and that started the fire. My dad was badly burned, but he survived. He couldn’t take care of me, so I went into foster care. Every so often he’d drag me back home, but between the drugs and his drinking, it never lasted. I was taken away for good when I was twelve.”

  “Oh, Hope,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  Stepping away after a few moments, Hope poured herself another cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen island.

  “My folks had alienated all our relatives with their lifestyle. No one was willing to take me. So, I went into the system. I guess I was a handful... sort of like Dawn because I was shifted around a lot. Some places were pretty bad. Some were okay, but I never let my guard down. I knew they would turn me out, too. They always did. Anyway, as soon as I was old enough, I joined up and got into the Marines. Saved my life.”

  “I can see, now, why Dawn’s situation touches you so deeply,” Gideon said, standing behind her and rubbing her shoulders until he felt them relax under his fingers.

  Hope swiveled around, saying, “What you said before about our spare rooms...”

  “Yes?”

  “I think, even after Dawn gets settled, well, I think we should keep taking in these kids in crisis,” she said, looking at Gideon with a question in her eyes.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea! But with me out at the church so much and all, most of the work will fall on your shoulders. Are you sure you want to take this on?” he asked.

  “You
should know better than anyone just how strong my shoulders are,” Hope teased. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m going to call Mrs. Merriweather today and see what we need to do.”

  Gideon pulled her up and hugged her close.

  “Maybe you’d better not call today. It’s Sunday, remember? I’d better get over to the church or there will be no sermon this morning,” he said, looking at his watch. “I’ll see you and Dawn over there.”

  Hope kissed him, saying, “I do love you, so much.”

  “Right back at you, sweetheart,” he said, tweaking her nose and turning to go.

  He bumped into Dawn in the doorway and touched her shoulder.

  “Good news, Dawn. Mrs. Merriweather says you can stay with us, at least for the time being. I’ve got deacons waiting for me at church, so I’ve got to run, but Hope will explain everything, and I’ll see you two lovely ladies at the service.”

  Dawn watched him leave and then turned to Hope.

  “Is that true?” she asked.

  “You bet,” Hope grinned. “Now, what do you want for breakfast before we go up and try to find you something to wear to church?”

  …

  Parked down the street from Mount Zion Tabernacle, Dwayne and Beto slunk low in the bucket seats of their shabby compact car.

  Dwayne munched on cold French fries, grimacing at the taste before popping another limp potato strip into his mouth.

  Beto took his eyes off the church long enough to express his annoyance with his companion.

  “Why are you eating that garbage?” he growled.

  “What else is there to do?” Dwayne responded. “This is boring. What do you think we’re gonna do, anyway, even if we see that woman? We can’t snatch her in broad daylight.”

  “We can follow her, idiot! If we catch her alone, we’ll grab her, and if not, we’ll find out where she lives,” Beto replied. “Look, there she is, now. Duck down!”

  …

  Hope parked the car in the church lot and Dawn climbed out, tugging at her short skirt; wishing it were longer.

  Hope had washed and ironed Dawn’s clothes, but there weren’t many suitable items to choose from. A white tee-shirt under a cardigan of Hope’s worn with Dawn’s own miniskirt was the best they had come up with.

  Noticing Dawn’s discomfort, Hope patted her shoulder and leaned down.

  “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping and get you a few more things, but don’t worry, you look just fine,” she whispered.

  Dawn smiled and pulled her shoulders back a bit as they walked into the church.

  The Mitchell family was entering the church at the same time. Ty’Nisha and TyVon greeted Dawn and urged her to sit with them.

  “Looks like your camping trip was a success, at least for that young lady,” Tyrone said to Hope, holding the door open. “She looks like a different person than the sullen teenager we saw last time.”

  “Your kids have made her feel welcome. I know that makes a huge difference. Dawn’s had a pretty rough time, but she’s a good kid,” Hope said. “She was a big help when we ran into trouble.”

  “Our kids told us some guys attacked you. What was that about?” Berniece asked. “Ty’Nisha and TyVon made it all sound like something from the movies.”

  Before Hope could reply she was surrounded by several of the kids from the youth group eager to talk about their recent adventure.

  When the organ prelude began everyone scattered to find a seat.

  Hope took her usual place in the front pew and tried to prepare her heart for worship.

  She was having trouble finding peace in her heart with the specter of the men who attacked her looming in her thoughts.

  …

  “There are too many people around, just now, but when she and that girl leave, we follow,” Beto said. “Drive around the corner and park where we can see them when they come out.”

  Dwayne drove on, shaking his head.

  “They’re gonna be in there for ages. Let’s go get something to eat and come back. I hear these black preachers go on for an hour or more,” he said.

  “What do you know about preachers? Black or otherwise?” Beto scoffed.

  “I know enough. My old grandmother used to drag me to Sunday school in one of those “holiness” churches with all the crying and shouting. Used to scare me to death, but I heard her talking to her friends about the other churches,” Dwayne replied.

  “I suppose we can get something at a drive-thru, but then we come straight back. I don’t want to wait another week to take care of this witch.”

  …

  The monthly fellowship luncheon for the Mount Zion congregation followed the worship service that Sunday.

  In the social hall, many of the members sat around long folding tables, eating and chatting, while most of the women’s missionary society gathered in the kitchen.

  “Did you see that foster girl?” Sister Evans asked. “It looks like Hope and the pastor have introduced her to soap and water. Last time she was here, it was hard to see beyond the layers of makeup. What kind of foster parent lets a child go around like that, I want to know.”

  “From what I hear, the foster mother has skipped town just ahead of the law,” Cookie said. “How does someone like that get put in charge of helpless babies?”

  “It was a blessing when the Mitchell’s daughter invited that girl to church. That’s what got the authorities looking into things,” Dorcas pronounced with authority.

  “But what happens to the children who were in her care, now?” Cookie asked.

  “I spoke to Hope earlier this morning. She told me the little ones have gone to more suitable homes,” Sister Evans replied.

  “And what about the older girl? Is she staying with Hope?”

  “For now, anyway,” Sister Evans said.

  “Taking in foster kids can be really hard, with all their problems. My Aunt Josie took in a couple of kids and looking after them nearly killed her,” Cookie said. “Do you think Hope is up to it? She’s never had kids of her own, after all.”

  “She seems to have done a good job of dealing with difficult children so far,” Sister Evans said with a chuckle. “She handled a flash flood, getting lost in the mountains, and even being attacked by strange men just this week. I’ll admit I had my doubts when Pastor married her, but she’s turned out to be a real blessing and a fine First Lady.”

  “Pastor’s ever so much happier, too,” Cookie added. “Even though they are of different races.”

  “Anyone Pastor married would be different than him. Don’t you remember him telling us about being Native American, black, and white?” Sister Evans asked.

  “I guess he’d be in a mixed marriage all by himself,” Cookie said, making the others smile.

  “When we voted to make Mount Zion a community church, we all agreed that we wanted to live as one family of God, with no regard to ethnicity or race. Pastor and Hope are a good example of that,” Dorcas said, nodding.

  “Help me carry these cakes out to the dessert table,” Sister Evans said, picking up a big German chocolate cake and leading the way.

  In the social hall, sitting at a separate table, the members of the youth group were digging into their casseroles and gelatin salads with gusto.

  “I’ve been hungry ever since the camping trip,” Ty’Nisha said, eying the cakes now arrayed on a nearby table. “I’d never skipped so many meals before.”

  “Or walked so much,” Aleeshia added, washing down a big bite of potatoes au gratin with a swig of lemonade.

  “You girls are just soft,” Colton teased. “I could’ve hiked twice that far.”

  “Yeah, that’s why you were moaning about your sore feet all the time,” TyVon said.

  “Okay, so it was a bit harder than our usual camping trip, but parts of it were amazing,” Colton said.

  “And parts were pretty scary,” Ty’Nisha added.

  Dawn nodded her agreement.

  Aleeshia turned to her, saying, “Tell us again about the b
attle you had at the trailhead while the rest of us were slogging our way to the store.”

  “Yeah. We’ve heard the summary, now give us the scoop. What really happened?” TyVon asked.

  Hesitating only a moment, Dawn launched into a detailed and only slightly exaggerated account of the episode with the drug dealers, reveling in her audience’s attention.

  Across the room, Hope observed the group with a smile. Seeing Dawn opening up and beginning to relax warmed her heart.

  “Look, Gid,” she said, drawing her husband’s attention away from his dessert.

  Following her nod, Gideon saw the young people and shared Hope’s reaction.

  “I think it would be a really good thing if Dawn were able to remain here as part of our youth group. Don’t you?” he asked.

  “You know I do. But, will it be possible?” Hope asked. “And can we be sure she would want to?”

  “We can just ask her,” Gideon said, taking another bite.

  “No. Not until we know if it’s possible. I couldn’t bear to get her hopes up and disappoint her. She’s had too many disappointments in her short life.”

  “Okay. Tomorrow I’ll check with CPS and see what we can do. Are you sure you want her to be our first foster child... for the long haul, I mean?” Gideon asked, setting down his fork. “Taking on a teenager might be like diving in at the deep end.”

  “Maybe. But it’s what I want to do. I don’t want to see Dawn palmed off on another stranger or have to relocate, yet again. We have the room and we can afford the extra expense. If she wants to stay, I want to have her.”

  Just then, a burst of laughter from the young people caught their attention in time to see Dawn give Colton a playful punch in the arm in response to his teasing.

  Hope looked forward eagerly to the next day’s shopping trip. Having a daughter would answer a need in her heart she’d never even known she had.

  …

  In his study at the church on Monday morning, Gideon reviewed his calendar, answered his messages, made a brief outline of his upcoming sermon, and sat back, reaching for his phone. He found the number in his contacts and dialed.

  “Hello. This is Gideon Hopkins. I’d like to speak to Mrs. Merriweather, please. Thank you,” he said, pulling up a pen and paper to make notes while waiting for the social worker to come on the line.