Who Do I Lean On?

by Neta Jackson

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I could just see Estelle stomping around, telling Harry a thing or two even if he wasn’t there. But my laugh quickly died. “Sounds like it might be serious. She still isn’t back? I wonder if we should call her, find out what’s wrong.”

  “Good idea. But let’s pray for her and Harry first, okay?”

  I called Estelle’s cell phone two times that night and left a message both times, but didn’t get a call back. Both boys already had homework—and I hadn’t been able to convince Paul to use the afterschool time to get his done and earn a free evening—so I spent most of the evening making sure they were doing their work and not getting distracted by their iPods or the TV. Couldn’t believe it, though, when the house phone rang and it was for P.J.—from a girl. Good grief, school had just started two days ago and girls were calling him already?

  “Can you believe it?” I told Angela when I signed in at the reception desk the next morning. “P.J. got a call from a girl last night. He’s only been at school two days. And since when do the girls call the boys?”

  Angela laughed and handed me a couple of messages. “Oh, Gabby. You’re showing your age. Girls call guys all the time these days, even make the first move. Equal opportunity, you know! And besides, that P.J. is pretty cute. Give him a few years and he’ll be breaking hearts right and left.” She winked and answered the incessant phone. “Manna House. Can I help you?”

  I pushed that image—a trail of broken hearts in P.J.’s wake— out of my head before it sent me into a deep depression and glanced at the messages as I headed downstairs to my office. A phone call from Peter Douglass, asking if the shelter could use a couple more computers. And a handwritten note from Sarge, saying a newbie had come in last night and asked for me by name. I squinted at the name: Naomi Jackson.

  Naomi . . . Naomi Jackson. I vaguely remembered a girl by that name. By the time I got to my office, I remembered. White girl, tangled brown hair with blonde streaks under a brown felt cap. Pierced nose—maybe her lip too, couldn’t remember—and high as a kite on something! I’d only been working at the shelter a few days and did her intake, shaking in my shoes because I had no idea what I was doing. Mabel had been out, but took over when she came back, and I’d been impressed how straightforward she’d treated Naomi—no-nonsense, firm, kind.

  But the kid had only stayed one day. The craving for a fix had been too strong.

  That was almost three months ago. The staff had wondered if she’d come back. I was glad she had—but why in the world was she asking for me?

  I went looking for her and found her curled up in an overstuffed chair in Shepherd’s Fold, sound asleep. I gently shook her arm. “Naomi?”

  The girl opened her eyes, seemingly confused about where she was. She still had the same stud in her nose—none in her lip, though—and streaked brown-and-blonde hair pushed up haphazardly under the same brown felt cap. But this time a black eye and facial bruise ran halfway down her cheek.

  But she wasn’t high. Recognition lighted her eyes and she half-smiled—only half because the swollen cheek hindered a full one. “Hey, Mrs. Fairbanks. You ’member me?”

  I sat down in the chair next to her. “I do. I’m glad to see you came back, Naomi.”

  “Yeah.” She wagged her head. “Shoulda come back sooner, but . . .”

  “What happened to your face? Who beat you, Naomi?”

  “Aw, it ain’t nothin’. My pimp, he got a little excited when I told him I was leavin’—but I mean it this time, Mrs. Fairbanks. I gotta get off the streets.” She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest, rocking it like a rag doll. “Them streets gonna kill me if I don’ get off that smack.”

  I watched her for a few moments, feeling helpless. How did one help a girl as far gone as Naomi? But I wanted to—wanted to gather her in my arms and hold her, rock her, kiss her hair, tell her it was going to be all right. But what did I know? I was the program director. Not a case manager or social worker. Not her mother either.

  “I got a note from Sarge saying you wanted to see me. I’m surprised you remembered my name.”

  The girl blushed. “Aw, that’s ’cause you was the first person I met when I came here the last time. I remembered that. You talked to me like I was a real person.”

  I had? All I could remember was being scared to death because she was high on drugs and might do something. “I’m glad . . .” I said, distracted momentarily by the double doors swinging open and Estelle coming in. I stood up, hoping to catch her. “Be strong, Naomi. It might be tough for a while to stick it out—but you’ll be glad you did. I’ve seen some mighty big miracles happen here. Including me.”

  The girl squinted up at me. “You? Naw. You look like a good person—not like me.”

  “You don’t have to be good to have God do a miracle in your life,” I murmured—and suddenly bent and kissed her on the forehead. Probably not kosher. But I didn’t care. How long had it been since she’d had a kiss from someone who wasn’t trying to get something from her?

  chapter 27

  Estelle had stopped to pour herself a cup of coffee from the coffee cart and thumped the carafe down when a mere few drops leaked into her cup. “Humph, can’t even get a decent cup of coffee,” she snapped, gathering up her bags again as I arrived.

  “I’ll make you some fresh,” I said, quickly snatching up the empty carafes and following in her wake down the stairs to the kitchen. Within minutes I had a pot dripping and the rich, nutty aroma wafted through the kitchen like a lazy genie. I poured two steaming cups and doctored them with milk (for me) and sugar (for Estelle).

  “Gimme that,” she said and added another heaping tablespoon of sugar. “Why you always so stingy with the sweet stuff ?”

  I steered her to a nearby table and waited until she’d taken a few long sips. “So tell me what’s going on with Harry. What’s this emergency with his eyes? I’m worried.”

  Estelle sighed. “You should be. Don’t know if I understand it myself—but he started seeing flashes of light in his eye during the night, scared him silly. I got myself over to his apartment and tried to calm him down until we could call the Medical Center at U of I and get him in to see an eye specialist.” She wagged her head, both hands gripping her coffee cup. “He went last week and they did some laser treatment to pin down a retinal tear. Harry said it hurt like heck, but now they saying he’s got a retinal detachment. They patched up both eyes and told him to stay still till they can get him in for surgery later tomorrow.”

  “What? They patched up both eyes? How’s he supposed to see? And what about DaShawn?”

  Estelle snorted. “That’s just it. He can’t see nothin’, not supposed to do nothin’ either. We took DaShawn to school before heading to the Medical Center and Jodi brought him home with her till we got back. You know he’s goin’ to Bethune Elementary where Jodi teaches, right? Anyway, after I got Harry back home and settled, I picked up DaShawn and kept him with me for the night. Jodi took the boy to school this morning. I told Harry he can stay with me till he gets this eye thing taken care of. Between Stu an’ me an’ the Baxters, I think we can work things out for DaShawn.”

  “But what about Mr. B?” This was worse than I’d imagined. “How’s he supposed to manage?”

  Estelle’s eyes suddenly filled up and she fished for a tissue somewhere in the folds of her roomy tunic. “I don’t know, Gabby. He needs somebody with him, that’s what. Otherwise he gonna be liftin’ off those bandages an’ peekin’, just to get around. But the doc said he has to totally rest his eyes so those retinal tears don’t get worse.” She blew her nose and stood up. “That’s why I’m gonna put lunch together an’ get myself outta here. Who’s on lunch duty today? I could use some extra help . . . What day’s today anyway?”

  “Thursday.” I headed for the chore chart Mabel posted on the dining room bulletin board each morning. “Uh, it’s Kim and Wanda.”

  “Mm, Kim and Wanda. Okay . . . wait. Thursday?” Estelle slappe
d her forehead. “I’m s’posed to teach cooking class this afternoon too! Well, I can’t do it. Somebody’s got to go sit with Harry. Denny Baxter’s comin’ this evening to hang out with Harry so I can go see Leroy. I been readin’ to my boy from the Bible—seems to calm him some.”

  No wonder Estelle was edgy, with the two men in her life both laid up. I assured her I’d take care of cancelling her class and hurried off to find Kim and Wanda and ask if they could come early to help Estelle with lunch. As I came into Shepherd’s Fold, I spotted Wanda standing with Precious and several other residents in the center of the room, clapping and laughing. A gospel CD had been turned up loud on the CD player and the object of their amusement was soon apparent—little Gracie Baxter was gyrating and bouncing to the music like a toddler version of American Idol, egged on by the attention of her circle of “aunties.”

  Her mom must be around somewhere . . . which suddenly gave me an idea. I touched Wanda’s shoulder. “Is Edesa here?”

  “Mi t’ink she talkin’ to Mabel . . . Now look at dat lil gal. She de cutest ting.”

  Gracie was cute, but I had other things on my mind. “Estelle is in a bind and needs some extra help. Can you find Kim and go a little early to help with lunch?”

  The big Jamaican woman shrugged. “No problem.” She sidled off, but first she gave Gracie a tickle under her chin, which set off a ripple of giggles.

  I was just about to go off in search of Edesa, when Gracie’s adoptive mother came through the swinging double doors, sized up the situation, and swept the one-year-old into her arms. “Niña, niña, are you showing off again?” She clucked reprovingly at the grinning women. “Por favor, don’t encourage her. She gets too much attention as it is.”

  “Pooh,” said Precious. “If we can’t spoil Gracie, who will? Besides, if a girl gotta dance, she gotta dance!” Precious shimmied her shoulders and hips from side to side with a “Mmm-mm-mm” as the knot of women drifted.

  I grinned at her antics but beckoned to Edesa. “Can I talk to you a minute? I need a favor.” I’d been meaning to ask her about teaching a class on nutrition for our residents from her Public Health studies. If she had time, maybe she could cover Estelle’s cooking class today!

  “Sí.” Edesa jiggled Gracie on her hip. “But, oh, Gabby! Muchas gracias for offering one of your apartments to our little familia! I could hardly believe it when Josh told me! What a blessing that will be. When do you think we can move?”

  Even as the words spilled from Edesa’s mouth, I saw Precious freeze in midshimmy and stare at us. Stare at me, rather—a startled look that took only a nanosecond to turn from question to accusation.

  As the moment froze, I felt caught in a time warp, kicking myself that I hadn’t talked to Precious and Tanya yet about the new plan. I gave Precious a pleading look, but she turned and marched out of the room.

  Edesa hesitated. “Did I say something wrong, mi amiga?”

  I shook my head. “No, no . . . It’s my fault. I’ll explain . . . but give me a minute, will you?” I ran after Precious, but no one was in the hall and the stairs were empty. Where had she gone? I ran up the stairs and peeked in each of the bunkrooms, but still no Precious. Then I heard a flush, and a moment later Precious came out of the bathrooms into the small lounge. She stopped when she saw me.

  “Precious—” I said.

  She folded her thin arms across her chest. “So. When was you gonna tell us you promised one of them apartments to somebody else?”

  “I’m sorry, Precious. I meant to talk with you and Tanya this week. It’s just that I realized how much work it’s going to take to maintain the building, and Josh is pretty handy, and they’ve been looking for a bigger place, so I thought—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I feel ya. Your heart all bleedin’ for that poor little family, all crunched up in that tiny little apartment which, by the way, they live in by they own selves. But”—Precious shook a finger in my face—“you promised me an’ Sabrina were top of your list for this so-called House of Hope. Tanya an’ her Sammy too. But, hm, lemme see . . .” The arms crossed again and her chin went up. “. . . that’s two apartments an’ three families you done promised can move in. So. Which one of us was you gonna bump to make room for them Baxters?”

  I sank down on one of the threadbare couches in the upper lounge. This had all made sense when Mabel and I talked about it in her office, but now I felt like a certifiable jerk. “You and Tanya are still at the top of my list, Precious. I was . . . I was going to ask you and Tanya if you’d be willing to share an apartment to start with—at least until another apartment opens up. And ask Josh and Edesa to move into the House of Hope as property manager. But”—my voice cracked—“I can see I went about this all wrong. I should have talked to you and Tanya before I said anything to Josh and Edesa. I’m so sorry.” I wagged my head miserably.

  Precious just stood in front of me, arms still crossed. Finally she spoke. “But you didn’t. So . . . what we s’posed to do now?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d done it again—running ahead of God with my “good idea.” When was I going to learn to “lean not on my own understanding” like those verses in Proverbs said? Mabel always said if my “good idea” was part of God’s plan, it was going to work out in His time and in His way. I didn’t have to rush it.

  I looked up at Precious and heaved a sigh. “I think I need to go back to Josh and Edesa and tell them I spoke out of turn. That I’d already promised that apartment to someone else.”

  Precious sat down on the couch beside me. “You’d do that?”

  Suddenly it seemed simple. Just own up to my mistake. Start over. I nodded. “I could tell them they’re first in line for the next apartment that opens up.”

  “An’ when would that be?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’ll try to find out.”

  We just sat on the couch not saying anything for several minutes, but I could feel the tension dissolving between us. Then she said, “You serious about makin’ this right?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. Then this is the way it’s gonna go down. Step one. You got this big idea how to stretch two apartments an’ fix everybody’s problems. Step two. You talk to me an’ Tanya about it—though right now you talkin’ to me an’ I’m gonna go talk to Tanya. She don’t have to know you already jumped the gun and talked to the Baxters. Step three. Tanya an’ me gonna talk about it and decide if we like the idea of sharin’ an apartment—which gonna be five people in three bedrooms once Sabrina’s baby get here.”

  “I know. I—”

  “Zip it, Miss Gabby. I’m talkin’ here. Step four. Tanya an’ me will tell you what we think of your big idea. Then you’ll know what ya gotta say to Josh and Edesa. Maybe nothin’ if we take you up on it.”

  I felt confused. “What do you mean? I was going to go downstairs right now and tell Edesa I can’t offer the apartment after all.”

  “An’ I’m tellin’ you I just want a chance to be part of the decision—since you first off made me an’ Tanya think we each gettin’ our own place.”

  Now it was my turn to stare at Precious. Who was this woman who had accumulated more spiritual wisdom in her streetwise noggin than I had in all my “churchy” years growing up? Was she really willing to consider this idea after I’d changed the plan without telling her? Finally I spoke. “I . . . I hardly know what to say. Just promise you’ll be honest with me, even if the answer is no. And if it is no, the sooner I can say something to Josh and Edesa, the better.”

  Precious snorted and stood up. “Since when has Precious McGill ever shied away from speakin’ my mind? Now let me go find Tanya and tell her about this big idea. Gonna be easier for her to be honest ’bout how she feel if you’re not there.”

  chapter 28

  It was hard for me to talk to Edesa about filling in for Estelle’s cooking class today and not say anything about the problem with the apartment. But she seemed excited about teaching some nutrition basics eve
n on short notice and the apartment didn’t come up again. “This is what I want to do when I graduate, Gabby,” she said, her dark eyes dancing. “I can wing it today—but next time, give me more notice so I can prepare properly!” She laughed, her face breaking into that wide Edesa-smile that seemed to turn on highlights from within her warm mahogany skin.

  Lunchtime came and went, but Precious and Tanya didn’t show. I set aside two plates for them with the baked chicken, green beans, and macaroni on the lunch menu. Estelle had disappeared as soon as food was on the counter, leaving Wanda in charge of supervising serving and cleanup.

  After lunch, Edesa put Gracie down for a nap in one of the beanbag chairs in the empty rec room and used the time before the two o’clock class to prepare some notes. When I peeked out my office door at two thirty, she was using that day’s menu to illustrate the five basic food groups. “. . . and the cheese sauce in the mac ’n cheese counts as protein from the dairy group. But if you look at the basic food groups on the paper I passed out, what was missing? . . . Tawny?” I closed my door with a smile. Edesa seemed as happy as if she had a class of thirty instead of just the five who showed up.

  But still no sign of Precious and Tanya. I started to feel anxious. Should I go look for them? I didn’t want to make them feel pressured. But if I had to tell Edesa that the apartment offer was off, I wanted to do it before she left. Otherwise I’d feel like a wimp doing it over the phone.

  I picked up one of the stuffed dogs still stacked around my office and glared at its mopey face, beginning to regret I’d let hurt feelings get tangled up in the decision. If I backed out on Josh and Edesa now, I could hardly blame them if they got tired of waiting and rented something else—and that would be the end of my good idea. A property manager and his family right on the premises, a couple I knew and trusted and who were already volunteers at Manna House . . . it would’ve been so perfect!