Who Do I Lean On?
Page 31
With Paul hanging on one hand and Jodi on the other, I moved through the grinning crowd of friends and family, up the broad steps and through the front door that Harry Bentley— ex-doorman but never ex-friend—held open for me.
And I knew I was coming home.
reading group guide
1. In chapter 6, Gabby’s lawyer, Lee Boyer, tells her the House of Hope idea, while noble, doesn’t seem like a wise use of her inheritance money while she’s in the middle of a custody case and possible divorce. What do you think—is she being impetuous? Acting in faith? How can we tell the difference in our own lives?
2. In the same chapter, Mabel Turner says, “If this [House of Hope] is God’s idea, then it’s going to happen. God’s timing is perfect. You don’t have to rush it.” How do we know when something is “God’s idea”? If we run into roadblocks, how do we know when that’s the work of Satan trying to stop it and we should press on—or God allowing circumstances to show us it’s our idea, not His?
3. In chapter 17, what did Mabel mean when she says it’s not enough to “believe in God,” you have to “believe God”? What would it mean for you to believe God for something in your life situation today?
4. Do you think Gabby contributed to the downfall of her marriage as Mabel suggested in chapter 18? Why or why not? Why does Gabby have such a difficult time hearing what Mabel said? How do you understand Mabel’s apology in chapter 23? Do you think “taking responsibility” for mutual problems in a marriage helps or hinders when one is dealing with emotional abuse?
5. In chapter 27, Gabby offered one of the available apartments in the House of Hope to Josh and Edesa Baxter before talking it over with Precious and Tanya (to whom she’d already promised the two apartments). In what way was she “leaning on her own understanding” (see Prov. 3:5–6)? Now she’s in a bind! . . . What are the implications for Josh and Edesa if she tells them they can’t move in after all? For Tanya and Precious if they do? For Gabby either way?
6. Are you sometimes tempted to “run ahead of God” with your good ideas? What kind of pitfalls have you fallen into?
7. Gabby’s solution to the above fiasco: “Suddenly it seemed simple: Just own up to my mistake. Start over.” How would Gabby’s solution help in your situation?
8. Why do you think Gabby held back from telling her sons the stark, bald truth when P.J. implied that his mom was the one who “moved out” (chapter 28)? Do you agree with her reasoning for not vilifying Philip? How would you have responded in that instance?
9. Do you think Gabby did the right thing not making “a big honking deal” out of P.J.’s negative attitude toward Jermaine (chapter 32)? What is she hoping to accomplish? How would you handle a similar situation?
10. Gabby gradually changed her prayers from praying about Philip to praying for him. In chapter 33, she said, “It was hard to be angry with someone I was praying for.” Is there someone you’re angry with right now? Have you thought about praying for this person (not just about him or her)? What would your prayer be for this person?
11. On her date with Lee Boyer in chapter 34, Gabby was starting to “sense God everywhere.” Has that happened to you? Where or when was the last time an experience or place made you actively aware of God or spiritual reality (outside of church or reading your Bible)?
12. When Gabby attended the Yada Yada Prayer Group in chapter 37, Chanda challenged her about her relationship with Lee while still married to Philip. What do you think about the way Avis handled the awkward situation? How would you have handled that situation? What do you think about Gabby’s relationship with Lee?
13. After Philip is mugged and ends up in the hospital, do you believe he is sincere when he asks Gabby to forgive him? Why or why not? If you were Gabby, how would you have responded to the choice Lee presented to her at the hospital?
14. Do you think there is any hope for Gabby and Philip’s marriage in the future? What would you like to see happen with Philip? With Lee? Why?
15. What are your thoughts and feelings about emotional abuse in marriage? How can sisters support one another when some form of emotional abuse takes place in a marriage? How can the church be more active in addressing this often hidden problem?
reading in 3-D
In this and the previous House of Hope novels, Gabby Fairbanks often depended on her friend Harry Bentley, but you’ve seen Harry only through Gabby’s eyes and may not realize he is a retired Chicago cop who put himself on the line by blowing the whistle on a corrupt and dangerous colleague.
He and Estelle are “an item,” but have you been on a date with them?
He’s raising his grandson, but why?
He saves Gabby’s estranged husband from being shot, but how?
He’s found faith through the Yada Yada Brothers’ Bible study group, but can it carry him through the most frightening experience of his life?
The Yada Yada Brothers novels by Dave Jackson parallel Neta’s House of Hope novels and represent a different kind of reading enjoyment, three-dimensional literature, if you will. It’s something that only a husband and wife writing team could pull off. Each novel stands alone but takes place in the same time frame, same neighborhood, involving some of the same characters living through their own dramas and crises but interacting with and affecting one another . . . just the way it happens in real life.
This is why readers of Harry Bentley’s Second Chance, the first Yada Yada Brothers novel say . . .
• “Got it, read it, loved it, will recommend it! Can’t wait for the next book.”
• “I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the idea of parallel novels! This is absolutely amazing!”
• “Harry Bentley’s Second Chance was just as exceptional as Where Do I Go? and the whole Yada Yada series.”
Enjoy the following Prologue to the second Yada Yada Brothers novel, Harry Bentley’s Second Sight. It corresponds primarily to events in Who Do I Lean On? Neta’s third book in her House of Hope series (the book you’re holding in your hands), with a tiny peek ahead into Neta’s fourth book, Who Is My Shelter?
An excerpt from
Harry Bentley’s Second Sight
By Dave Jackson
prologue
DaShawn Bentley was tall for a nine-year-old, but to rest his knees on the dash of his grandfather’s SUV, he still had to slide way down in the front seat while he texted his friend Robbie. “R U g-o-i-n-g 2 c-a-m-p t-o-m-o-r-r-o-w-?” He hit Send. Except for that brief stay in a foster home in the suburbs, DaShawn had never been outside Chicago, especially not way out in the country, in the woods, by a lake with canoes and horses. So he was counting on some of the other guys from SouledOut Community Church going with him.
“You ever been to camp, Grandpa?”
When Harry Bentley didn’t answer right away, DaShawn looked over to see his grandfather turning from side to side as if he were trying to read the address numbers on the passing storefronts. He kept closing one eye and then the other with exaggerated winks that contorted his face like a rubber mask.
“Grandpa?”
“Yeah, what?”
“I said, did you ever go to summer camp?”
“Uh . . .” The searching and winking continued. “No. We only had day camps down on the Southside. But they were pretty good.”
Realizing his grandfather wasn’t watching where they were going very carefully, DaShawn sat up just in time to see them closing too fast on a stopped truck.
“Grandpa, LOOK OUT!”
Harry Bentley hit the brakes. Tires screeched, then WHAM! The little RAV4 slammed into the back of a huge red pickup.
There was a moment of silence, like dust settling, as DaShawn realized he’d just been in his first-ever car accident. He turned to look at the baldheaded black man next to him. “You okay, Grandpa?”
DaShawn’s grandfather was staring straight ahead. “Yeah. You all right?”
“I think so. What happened?”
Grandpa shook his head. “I was just . . .”
“Wait here!” Grandpa said as he opened the door and went to meet the men inspecting the damage. But a few moments later DaShawn was surprised to hear the construction workers’ cursing turn to laughter as they pointed to the back of their truck and then the front of the little SUV.
“So what happened?” one said as he threw up his hands. “Are you blind or something? Isn’t this truck big enough for you to see it?”
“Yeah,” said the other man. “We were stopped at a red light, for Pete’s sake! What’s the matter with you?”
DaShawn relaxed a little. At first the men had seemed really angry at his grandpa, but now it was more like they were making fun of him.
In a few moments, the loud voices quieted as the drivers got down to the business of exchanging licenses and insurance cards. The other driver began shaking his head as if he didn’t care about all of that, and DaShawn heard him say, “We can report this if you want, but my truck ain’t even scratched. That big hitch can take a hit and keep on truckin’, know what I mean?” He pointed at the RAV4. “You’re the one with the messed-up bumper, and it was your fault, so reportin’ it’ll only raise your insurance rates. Do what you want. But if it were me . . .” He shrugged.
“You sure neither of you are hurt?” Grandpa asked.
The two men looked at one another. “Nah. We’re good.” Then with a smirk, the driver added, “But run into me again, and I’ll claim whiplash and sue ya dry.”
“Hey.” Grandpa held up both hands in surrender. “I’m really sorry, guys. Thanks.”
“No problem. Just watch where you’re goin’ next time.”
The men returned to their truck and drove off as DaShawn’s grandfather came back to the car and got in. He sat there in a daze until a car behind them beeped its horn.
“You okay, Grandpa?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He blew out a lung full of air as he wiped a hand over his head and stepped gently on the gas to cross the intersection and pull to a stop behind some parked cars along the curb. He sat there staring out the front window, then glanced momentarily over at DaShawn. “Can you read that parking sign up ahead there?”
“Sure. Says, ‘No parking when snow is over two inches deep.
Tow zone.’”
“But . . . none of the letters are smeared or anything?”
“Uh, no. But you don’t have to worry, Grandpa. It don’t snow in July.”
“’Course not.” Harry laughed as he continued “winking” at the sign, then began rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. “Musta got somethin’ in my eye. Left one’s all blurry. But . . . hey, it’s probably nothin’.”
“That why you didn’t see that truck, Grandpa?”
“No . . . well, maybe. I was distracted, I guess, tryin’ to read signs.”
DaShawn grinned. “I know. I know what you were doin’. You lookin’ to find some nice restaurant to take Miss Estelle to for dinner tonight, huh?”
“Hey, that’s none of your business.” His grandfather grinned and put the car in Drive as he pulled away from the curb. Then he turned back to his grandson and arched his eyebrows while pursing his lips. “Actually, I already got plans for tonight.” He bobbled his head from side to side. “Big plans.”
“Oh yeah? What’s up?”
“Promise you won’t tell?”
“Promise.”
“I’m gonna ask her to marry me.” He slapped his breast. “Got a ring in a little box, right here in my pocket.”
“Really?” DaShawn’s eyes got huge.
“Yep. After dinner I’m gonna take her sailing on the Tall Ship Windy. And right during the Chicago fireworks, when they’re lighting up the whole sky, I’m gonna pop the question. Whaddaya thinka that?”
DaShawn didn’t answer. He just sat there grinning like he’d witnessed Santa coming down his very own chimney.
“Harry, this place is too expensive,” Estelle Williams whispered as she scanned the menu for Riva’s Restaurant on Chicago’s Navy Pier. Their table looked out over the harbor as the sun’s golden rays ricocheted off the glass and steel of the city’s magnificent skyline.
“Don’t worry ’bout it. Just order what you want.”
Estelle shrugged and returned to the menu. But there’d been an edge in Harry’s voice. In fact, ever since he’d picked her up this evening, he’d seemed uptight. She glanced at him again. “Harry Bentley . . . you tryin’ to wink at me?” She closed her menu and lowered her head to position herself more in his line of sight.
“No, I’m not trying to wink at you. Why would I be doin’ that? Haven’t we been seein’ enough of each other to be beyond flirting?”
“Well, I should hope so. Harry . . .” She reached across the table and pushed his menu down, forcing him to look at her. “What’s the matter with you?” The frown lines in his forehead were deeper than usual. “DaShawn told me you were in a car wreck this afternoon, but I didn’t see any damage. You okay?”
Harry leaned back in his chair and stared out at the boats. Then he closed his eyes and rubbed them with the knuckles of both hands. “Yeah, I’m okay. It was nothin’, Estelle. No one was hurt. Just messed up my bumper a little.”
“Hmm.” She studied the man she’d come to love. Something wasn’t right. “Harry, what’s the problem? Come on. Somethin’s troubling you. Is it Mother Bentley again?”
“No, she’s doin’ fine. You know that. You take care of my mom more than I do. It’s just . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment. “My eyes been bothering me a little. Think I’m getting allergies or something.”
“Your eyes?” The implications clicked through her mind like a calculator. “Is that why you had a wreck? Maybe you shouldn’t be driving, Harry.”
“It wasn’t a wreck, Estelle. Just a little fender-bender. And I can see quite well enough to drive. Besides, it’s just my left eye. Probably got something in it.” He flipped open his menu and squinted at it. “Now, come on. Let’s put that behind us and have a nice dinner.”
“Maybe you need glasses, Harry. You know most people our age do need glasses, at least to read. I should get some myself.”
“I already have a pair of reading glasses, Estelle.”
“Then why don’t you use them? I’ve never seen you wear them.”
“Estelle . . . don’t worry about it, okay? Just order.”
She stifled her next comment and opened her menu again.
The man was nothing if not stubborn. Well, if he insisted on paying for it, she’d enjoy her meal. “I think I want to start with some lobster bisque and one of these salads—baby greens with balsamic vinaigrette and sliced almonds.”
When the sun had finally set and they’d finished their dinner, Estelle was so full of scallop fettuccine and asparagus Parmigiano—not to mention the bites she’d snitched of Harry’s double-cut pork chop with black current sauce and his garlic mashed potatoes—that she passed on the dessert, and they just lingered over coffee. But their conversation mostly involved brief answers from Harry every time Estelle tried to introduce a new topic. She noticed he’d actually turned his chair slightly away from her and spent most of his time looking out at the boats as they came and went across the lights of the city shimmering off the water. Occasionally, he checked his watch as it approached nine o’clock and then, resting an elbow on the table, he held his head in his hand for a moment, shaking it back and forth slightly as though he were deciding the course of the universe.
She had to do something to pull him out of this funk.
“Harry . . . Harry, let’s top off the evening with a ride on the Ferris wheel. I’ve always wanted to do that, and it’s such a beautiful night. I bet we could see the whole city from up there.”
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Why not?” He sat up in hi
s chair as though relieved. “Let’s do it. I’ll call for the check.”
Harry felt bummed. His special evening with Estelle had crashed and burned . . . at least in terms of what he’d planned. Why hadn’t he taken her for a sail on the Windy? Why hadn’t he given her the ring?
It was that episode of Grey’s Anatomy—the one where they discovered that a guy who was going blind in one eye had an inoperable brain tumor. Memory of it had popped into his mind just as he was turning into the Navy Pier parking garage with Estelle. He wished he’d never seen that show, but he had, and all evening he couldn’t get it out of his mind.
What if that was happening to him?
It was nearly eleven by the time he’d taken Estelle home and picked up DaShawn from his mother’s. He’d been tempted to let the boy spend the night at Great Grandma’s, but tomorrow was Sunday, and Harry had to have him packed and over to SouledOut Community Church an hour early to catch a ride in the van with the other kids going to summer camp. If it was a church camp, why did it start on Sunday? It made no sense to Harry.
Harry dumped the boy onto the bed, pulled off his shoes, and let him fall back to sleep in his clothes. He could take a shower in the morning.
Harry knew he should go right to bed himself, but he couldn’t . . . not yet. Not until he had more of an idea what he might be facing. He couldn’t ask Estelle to marry him if he was going blind! Or what if he died of a brain tumor? The ring in his pocket nearly burned a hole in his chest. Passing up his plans for a romantic proposal on that sailing ship tore him up. He wanted so badly to declare his love for her, but he couldn’t go through with it, not until he knew.
He sat down at the table in the living room where he and DaShawn shared a computer and turned it on. When the browser came up, he typed “blind spot in eye” into the search engine and clicked the Return key.