by Denise Daye
DEDICATION
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
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About the Author
Copyright 2020 by Timeless Papers
A
va found her father in the living room polishing his work boots. He was hunched over in the TV chair, breathing strenuously as he rubbed the brush over the worn-out boot. He’d cough occasionally, his voice dry, yet he continued to hum peacefully, just like he’d done for as long as she could remember.
Long gone were the days when she would run up to him and he would playfully lift her over his shoulders. She didn’t expect that now; she was a grown woman after all. Nonetheless seeing him shrivel and grow weaker each day broke her heart. She clicked her tongue.
“Ava, my dear!” He looked up to her with a breathless smile. “You’re awake. Always the hard-working early bird.”
She crossed her arms, her shadow flickering over him.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to work again this week.”
“I have no choice,” he said hoarsely, holding back a stiff cough. She kneeled in front of him and reached for the polishing brush.
“Yes, you do,” she said quietly. Ava gave the boot a quick polish and then placed it neatly beside the worn sofa.
“You should be resting, especially after what happened last week.”
“That was just a minor incident,” he groused stubbornly as he stood.
With a groan, Ava followed him.
“A near-heart attack is no minor incident.”
“How about breakfast, huh?” he asked, changing the subject.
She sighed and meandered into the kitchen to put together a simple breakfast of eggs and toast before her father tried to do that too.
"Into an early grave…” she mumbled to herself as she set the table.
Her father sat down and started eating, well aware of her eyes following his every move.
“I’d enjoy this food more if you didn’t look at me that way,” he spoke in between bites.
Ava sighed and sat down across from him, drying her hands on a dishtowel.
“Let it out, Ava. I know you want to say something.” His gaze was resolute.
She exhaled deeply and looked across the table. “You know what I want to say. You know.”
He picked at a piece of scrambled egg, eyeing it as if it were a gold nugget, and put it into his mouth, chewing deliberately, savoring it.
“Oh, I do know what you want to say. What I do not know is why you won’t listen to me and let it be. I am stronger than you think.”
His suddenly stifled cough did not help his case.
“You’re not,” Ava insisted. “If mom were here, you wouldn’t—”
“But she isn’t here!” he barked at her. Ava lowered her gaze. He passed a hand over his brow, a troubled expression on his face.
“I—I’m so sorry…” His eyes, flashing so stubbornly just a moment ago, were avoiding hers now.
“It’s okay, Dad. I know you miss her too.”
“I wish your mother was still with us, I really do,” he sighed.
Ava stayed silent.
“You have every right to be concerned. I’m also concerned. It’s been overwhelming for the both of us, but your mother’s medical debt is not just going to vanish.”
“I told you I could pick up a night shift at the shelter. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”
Her father managed a faint smile and touched her hand.
“That is very kind of you, but you are already working too much as it is. You still have your own life ahead of you, a bright future…Taking over my debts or working yourself to death is not the way to start that future.”
“I’m not complaining,” she assured him smiling back at him.
A spark of admiration lit up his face.
“Don’t worry; I’ll do my best, so long as my daughter is happy.”
Ava realized that this was going nowhere. So why make her father even sadder than he already was?
“I am happy. I love my work with the homeless and I have a great Dad,” she said, smiling at him warmly. What else was there to say? He was as stubborn as he was selfless; Ava knew he would not give in.
“Well, I gotta go. Can you pick me up after work later? I have to go to the postal office and it’s too far to walk.”
“Sure. I’ll wait outside the estate.”
Ava’s father gave her a kiss on her forehead before he got up and left. It was getting late and Ava had to leave as well, but for a moment she just sat there, staring at the plate in front of her. This was the 21st century. How did people still struggle with paying medical bills, living paycheck to paycheck, counting every penny twice?
“The life of the peasants,” she said to herself, as she got up to get ready for work. It wasn’t said lightly or in jest but came from the bottom of her troubled heart.
It was a beautiful morning. Birds were singing in the trees and the sun shone high above in a cloudless, blue sky. Ava left the little gardener’s house her father’s rich employer had made available for him when he first started working for the Radcliffs. As their full-time gardener, her father was expected to be close to the estate at all times. Ava found this requirement a bit ridiculous; he was a gardener, not a bodyguard. But who really knew what was going on inside the heads of billionaires such as the Radcliff family?
She stared at the enormous, castle-like estate. It was right up the road, partially hidden by cherry-blossom trees, but still visible enough to tell the rest of the people in this neighborhood who was who around here. Her whole life she had been living close to wealth, and yet she was worlds apart from the comforting feeling of financial security. What felt even weirder was the fact that she would be going to work at a homeless shelter. It felt like crossing through a portal into another dimension, one of poverty, hopelessness, addiction, and pain. This was the world she felt close to. A world where her work as a social worker was horribly underpaid, yet necessary.
“It’s going to be a good day,” she muttered to herself, inhaling deeply as she walked over to her battered Camry parked on the other side of the luxurious gilded main gate. There was no way she would be allowed to drive that trash heap onto the estate, not even to the far end of the gardener’s house. Ava gave her car door the usual push with her hip to loosen the lock of the door.
She was about to get in when she saw the shimmer of her father’s faded green gab in the far distance. He was pulling a cart with several bags of dirt down to the east end of
the estate’s gardens. Even from afar it was obvious how much he struggled with the load. It broke her heart.
I wish I could make things better for you, papa. I wish I could provide more.
Standing before the steel-colored Camry, she stared at her reflection and sighed. Her blond hair looked dull; her green eyes tired.
Turning her key, she tried to open the door. Nothing.
“Ugh! Still stuck,” she groaned and looked around from left to right.
The private road stretched down a bit further until the first “commoners” houses appeared at the border of the estate’s wide stretch of land and the fences bordering them. Once she was sure no one was looking—since her car always seemed inclined to embarrass her—she pushed against it with the side of her body, grunting as she shoved her weight against the door until it opened up.
With a sigh of relief, she got in and held the wheel, breathing deeply. This car was due for the junkyard, but her income barely touched the surface of her mother’s medical bills as it was. A new car was just not in the cards any time soon.
Resting her head against the wheel, she felt her eyes burn with tears. She missed her mother terribly but sometimes it felt like all she had left of her were enormous debts that overshadowed her ability to mourn her the way every person was entitled to mourn the loss of a loved one.
A few strands of her hair fell over her face when she raised her head and stared at the rear-view mirror.
“Get a grip on yourself, Ava. Today’s going to be a good day.”
The shelter she worked at was located at a local church near Manhattan. Most of the church had been converted into a relief center for the rising number of homeless people in the city of New York. Or the “infestation problem,” as some people, such as the Radcliffs, called it.
She parked her car a block away and walked the rest. It wasn’t the safest part of town, but people around here knew she was working for the church and mostly left her alone. Her worn-out Converses and casual jeans-and-sweater combo made her even less of a target. Not that she didn’t want to dress nicely – what woman doesn’t? – but her work could get messy at times. Plus, fashion was pretty far down on her “must-haves” list.
“Ava, hey!” John’s voice greeted her enthusiastically as she was about to walk in. “You’re looking pretty this morning.”
“Thanks, John. I needed to hear that. Even if it’s not true,” she joked.
“How can you say that! I meant it!” he said acting outraged.
“Well in that case, thank you,” she chirped with a smile.
Dressed in pretty much the male version of Ava’s outfit, John must have gotten used to the looks around here. He was one of the few social workers at the shelter and had started around the same time Ava did, so they’d gotten to know each other as much as work would allow. Tall, with an athletic build and black hair, his arms seemed always ready to rip through his shirt. Much to the joy of everyone at the shelter, he’d asked her out on a date once. For days she’d fumbled with her excuses. He was a nice guy and not bad on the eye either, but the last thing she needed was a workplace relationship. Plus, the spark just wasn’t there on her end. Their friendship had taken a hit since that incident, but she was okay with that.
John checked his watch. “We still got, uh, fifteen minutes. How about a cup of coffee? Judy’s brewed a fresh pot; it’s pretty good.”
It was still early, so the lines for breakfast hadn’t formed yet. Coffee sounded good but unfortunately she had to decline. “Father Brown called me this morning about an incident with Maria; I have to check in with him first.”
“Oh yeah, that. She finally came back, after all these weeks.” He shook his head. “She is a mess, Ava. Don’t get too disappointed.”
“I’ll try not to,” she said reassuring him—to some extent, herself. “See you inside?”
“In a bit, yeah.”
She entered though one of the side entrances and took the stairs straight to Father Brown’s office. He was the director running the shelter, and the priest who’d graciously given his large church to the homeless.
She squeezed the edge of her sweater as she bounded up the stairs. When she’d first gotten the call about Maria, she’d let out a sigh of relief; but then the skepticism crept in. Where had Maria been all these weeks?
Father Brown had an open-door policy in his office—the door was literally broken off, so anyone could pop in, anytime. He sipped a cup of coffee and flipped through some papers when Ava stepped in. He raised his gaze from the papers and smiled. An older man, dark-skinned with grey hair, Father Brown often joked that he had the best part of his life still ahead of him.
“How are you this morning?” he asked waving her to one of the two chairs opposite his desk.
“I’m alright. How about you?” she responded, sitting down.
“Life’s a joy, although I wish I could say the same about these poor souls under this roof.”
She nodded. “Is Maria still here or did she leave again?”
The pastor pushed back in his chair and got to his feet.
“Come with me,” he said walking out in his usual, slow limp. He was a bit on the robust side, but he looked healthy enough to just be considered ‘well-fed.’ Ava followed him.
“She showed up some time around midnight. Maybe one a.m. She looked…” He sighed, his voice grave. “She looked really bad.”
Ava’s face was drawn, her lips pursed into a frown.
"I think she must have relapsed," Ava confided.
“That’s what I think too. She asked for you as soon as she came. She looked battered and flushed, and she was soaked from the rain. Almost ran away again when she heard you weren’t here.”
"I wish I’d been there."
“You are here now, Ava, and that’s what matters. She wouldn’t stay initially, but with the promise of getting you first thing in the morning, and also a hot bowl of soup and a fresh change of clothes, we were able to get her to stay.”
Ava sighed and shook her head. Maria had come to the shelter several months ago after she had finally left her abusive boyfriend. She looked pretty beat up. Rough hair that didn’t look like it’d seen a brush in a while, or even shampoo; tattered clothes; bruises on her hands. She even had a red patch on her swollen right eye.
“I’m not a charity case, you know…” were Maria’s first words when she first met Ava. “I’m just out of luck and in need of a dollar.”
Her tone was aggressive and her eyes hard, but Ava remained smiling. She’d seen them all before—the ones who’d beg and the prideful ones. It really didn’t matter; here they were welcome and safe. But unfortunately, just like Maria’s case, if there were drugs involved, the road to recovery and to a better place was as long as the Great Wall of China—if not longer.
They pushed into the main auditorium, which now mainly served as a dormitory for the women.
“Morning, Ava!” Gloria, an elderly resident waved her wrinkled hand.
“You’re looking swell this morning, Mrs. Gloria,” Ava responded warmly. Bobby, a toothless man in his 70s, chuckled.
“You don’t have to say that to old Gloria, Ava. You’re the one looking swell,” Bobby joked. Gloria did not take that well.
“Funny you think you get to make such comments. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Gloria chastised him.
“I sure have,” Bobby said as he pulled out a comb and ran it over his bald, shiny head as if he was a model. The group broke out into laughter. Gloria and Bobby were two of the oldest residents at the shelter, always bickering but somehow inseparable.
Farther Brown smiled at Ava. “They really love you here. We are blessed that God sent you our way. ”
“It makes me happy to help, so I guess I’m the blessed one. But I’m also worried about Maria. I really, well…”
“I know, Ava,” Pastor Brown cut in and glanced at her as they walked. “I just want you to know that what
ever happens is her choice. You just can’t save them all.”
Ava spotted Maria sitting quietly on a worn mattress, her legs folded up. She seemed shrunken, broken once more. Her skin was pale and the bruises on her face and arms were back again. Ava took in a deep breath.
“I can try,” she said to Father Brown as she strode up to Maria. She was as determined as ever to start her work with Maria from scratch, and to finally save her.
How can a body ache like this from exhaustion?
Ava’s eyes felt as heavy as stones when she finally left the shelter that evening. As she did during most of the drives back home, she thought about her father. He loved his work as a gardener, which was great, but he also was notorious for neglecting his doctor’s advice about taking things easy, and that worried her.
Hot summer air brought pearls of sweat onto her forehead. Her AC was busted, so she rolled down the windows. Luckily there was little traffic, so she was able to get back to the Radcliff estate without getting stuck for hours in traffic jams.
As usual, she parked outside the main gate and honked three times, the signal for her father to come out.
First five minutes passed, then ten… she wanted to honk again but she knew how much Lucy Radcliff hated when she did that and she didn’t want to get her father in trouble.
“Come on Dad...”
The car rattled steadily as she drove it a few feet closer to the golden gate in the hope he would see her, the engine spluttering as always. It wasn’t her intention to block the way, but as always in her life when things should not go wrong, they did. With an abrupt loud roar, the car stalled and died on her. She desperately turned the key, but nothing happened. The engine was as silent as the night. She stepped out to see if she could find her father. He might be able to bring another round of life into that old thing.
“Dad!” she shouted over into the garden’s direction. Nothing.
“He’s probably in the back,” she guessed as she walked up to the security system and dialed the staff. Nobody answered, so she hit the button again. BEEP BEEP.