by Neta Jackson
Rochelle nodded. But the implication of this announcement left Avis speechless. Kathryn knew about Rochelle’s situation? Knew they needed a place to live, maybe even knew Conny was living with his dad, and had been talking about it with Rochelle—how many times?
Be wise, Avis, she told herself. There would be time to find out the answers to the questions swimming in her head. She had to focus on now. Rochelle was here. Conny was here. And Kathryn and her friends had just made a generous offer.
An offer that might even get Peter’s approval.
Bored with blowing milk bubbles, Conny wandered over to the book corner and sat down with some of the kids’ books on the lower shelf. Relieved that “Big Ears” was out of earshot, the three of them talked.
Rochelle said she was grateful for the offer of a place she and Conny could stay together, but she didn’t have any money right now. It’d been tough finding a job without an address, but now . . . Kathryn said don’t worry about it. She could be a “guest” until she found a job. Did she want to move in today? . . . No, because all Conny’s stuff was at his dad’s—and if Conny didn’t come home tonight, there’d be hell to pay before Dexter let Rochelle pick up the boy’s things . . . Avis jumped in. What if they went to Dexter’s place with a copy of the restraining order—and threatened to call the police if he didn’t turn over the boy’s things? . . . That was tricky, because Rochelle had voluntarily let the boy stay there . . . But wasn’t the reason he was at his dad’s so he could go to school? School ended a week ago! Rochelle now had a place to stay, and she had legal custody. It was time for Conny to come back to live with his mom . . . But, Rochelle admitted, she was afraid to confront Dexter alone.
Avis was just about to say she’d go confront Dexter herself, when Conny reappeared at his mother’s elbow, frowning big time. “Stop talking and let’s go.” He pulled on her arm. “I wanna go to Grammy’s house.”
Rochelle cuddled him. “You’ve been super patient, big boy! But I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go see the apartment where you and Mama might stay together?” She looked hopefully at Kathryn. “Is that okay? Could we stop at your place so Conny and I can see the apartment? Maybe meet your friends if they’re there?”
Fishing out her car keys, Avis noticed Rochelle’s hesitance to “go to Grammy’s.” On the other hand, checking out the apartment Kathryn and her friends were subletting was a good idea. That would give her time to go up to the third floor and talk to Peter.
Chapter 42
Brygitta and Nick were both home when Kat opened the door. In fact, they were caught red-handed moving Nick’s stuff from the master bedroom to the study. Kat made introductions, which felt a little awkward at first. But Conny’s eyes bugged out at the sight of Nick’s electric guitar leaning against the couch. “Hey! You play in a band or somethin’? Can I try it?” The boy made a beeline for the guitar.
Rochelle grabbed for him. “No, Conny—”
“No, no, it’s all right. Sure, little guy. Here, let me plug it in.” Nick dropped the laundry basket of “stuff ” he’d been carrying, and he and Conny disappeared into the study with the guitar.
Bree rolled her eyes. “Uh-oh. I can see it now. Nick and Conny auditioning for America’s Got Talent. Screaming fans. TV trucks outside.”
Rochelle started to laugh, which turned into a coughing fit. Alarmed, Kat ran to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water. Rochelle rummaged in her bag and gulped down a pill with the water. “Thanks. I’m okay now.”
“Would you like to see the room?” Brygitta said. “I’m sorry it’s not quite ready yet. Nick’s washing the sheets. I insisted. Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in his sheets, although he swears he doesn’t have cooties.”
A grin touched Rochelle’s thin face as she and Kat followed Brygitta down the hall. “Is she always this funny?”
Kat chuckled. Only when she’s nervous. But she didn’t say so.
Rochelle stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, taking it in. The large room was dominated by the queen-size four-poster—stripped of its bedding—but two padded chairs by the window were separated by a lamp table, the floor was carpeted, and the wall opposite the window boasted one long, low dresser with a huge mirror, containing four columns of drawers—his and hers. Olivia had originally chosen the foldout in the study as “cozier,” and the Candys’ second bedroom had twin beds, which Kat and Bree preferred to sleeping in the same bed, even a queen. Which is why Nick had ended up in the master bedroom.
“Why is the guy giving up this nice room for Conny and me?” Rochelle still hadn’t entered the room. Almost as if she felt intimidated by it, Kat thought. “And he’s already moved out—before you even knew I was coming.”
Kat shrugged. “We all had a feeling you would. Hoped so anyway.”
Strange electronic sounds came from the other end of the apartment. Brygitta snickered, but Rochelle didn’t seem to notice. She finally stepped into the room, running her hand over the thick bed mattress with the soft pad. “Thank you,” she whispered—and turning suddenly, gave Kat a tight hug.
For a brief moment Kat could almost feel the hug Rochelle’s mother had given her outside the coffee shop. She’d been taken aback at first, not expecting the hug, feeling embarrassed that Mrs. D had caught her crying. But her arms had been so strong, yet so gentle, so enfolding, that Kat felt herself melting into the hug, never wanting it to end. Even when Mrs. Douglass had gone back inside, Kat had still felt those arms around her, and it’d taken her a long while to stop crying—not from loss anymore but from the sheer comfort of being held by a mother’s embrace.
They all turned, hearing a muffled knock at the front door and then a voice calling out, “Hello?”
“My mom,” Rochelle said and scurried back down the hall, Kat and Brygitta right behind her. But Rochelle stopped so suddenly as the hallway opened into the living room that the two friends ran into each other.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Douglass stood just inside the door.
The weird electronic sounds stopped. “Grandpa!” Squealing, Conny ran out of the study and wrapped his arms around one of Mr. Douglass’s legs. The man reached down and lifted the little boy into his arms. “Hey, buddy. I’m really glad to see you.”
No real family resemblance, Kat realized as she watched them over Rochelle’s shoulder. Mr. Douglass’s complexion was dark, a coffee bean brown, while Conny had his mother’s honey-brown color. And their features were different. But even if he wasn’t Rochelle’s biological dad, maybe Mr. D was the only grandfather the little boy had ever known.
“Say, Conny,” Mr. D said. “Would you mind if I stole your mama for a little while? I have something special I want to say to her . . .” He put his hand around the little boy’s ear and whispered into it. Then aloud, “What do you think?”
“Okay.” Conny wiggled out of the man’s arms and ran back toward the study door, where Nick was leaning against the doorjamb. “We’re making music!”
Mr. Douglass chuckled. “Uh-huh, we heard.”
Kat felt kind of silly standing behind Rochelle in the entryway between the hall and living room, so she kind of nudged Conny’s mother from behind and the three of them took a few steps into the living room until Kat and Brygitta could slip over toward the dining nook. Mr. and Mrs. Douglass didn’t seem to notice them. In fact, Mr. D took a couple steps toward Rochelle. “Rochelle, could we go somewhere to talk? Up to our apartment? Or we could go for a walk, whatever you’d prefer.”
Rochelle just stood still for a long moment. Then she said, “Can Mom come too? Maybe go for a walk.”
“Of course. That’d be great. The three of us.”
Rochelle turned to Kat. “Is it okay to leave Conny here for a little while?”
Kat grinned. “Just try to pry him away from Nick.”
“Somebody calling me?” Nick stepped back to the doorway.
“We’re going out for a few minutes,” Mr. D said. “Are you all right with the boy?”
The two Douglasses and Rochelle started out the door. Then Mr. Douglass turned back and spoke to Nick. “This apartment is the beginning of your internship, my brother. Take good care of the flock.” And then he followed his wife and Rochelle out the door and down the stairs.
Kat gave Nick a funny look. “What did he mean by that?”
“Uh . . .” Nick looked sheepish. “Just a sec.” He went back into the study. They heard him say, “Hey, Conny. You work on your song for a few minutes, okay? I have to talk to these big girls here.”
Bent over the guitar, Conny twanged a few jarring notes. “No problem, dude.”
Laughing silently, Kat beckoned Nick and Brygitta into the kitchen where Conny couldn’t overhear. “What’s going on, ‘dude’?” She playfully pushed Nick with her hip. “Then I’ll tell you guys what happened at the coffee shop.” Well, not everything. Her own reaction to Mrs. D’s reunion with her daughter was still a little too raw.
Nick got himself a glass of water from the tap and sat down at the small kitchen table. “Okay. When you called me from the coffee shop, Kat, I was actually upstairs with the Douglasses. I thought maybe Mr. Douglass wanted to ask how I liked the job after two days, or worse, maybe I’d messed up, though Carl Hickman said, ‘Good job,’ when I left yesterday. So I was kinda flabbergasted when they said they wanted to know if I was still interested in doing my seminary internship at SouledOut—”
“Nick! That’s fabulous!” Kat squealed.
“Wait just a second, will ya? It’s not a done deal. But they said they’d been praying about the church meeting last week—got the feeling it was pretty stressful for them—and they said God had been talking to them about me.” Nick stopped, and he swallowed a couple of times, as if trying to control an emotion that threatened to surface.
Kat reached out and touched his hand. “Are you okay?”
Nick nodded. “I just couldn’t believe it. They said if I was still interested in doing my internship at SouledOut, they’d recommend me to Pastor Cobbs and—”
“In place of the Douglasses?!” Brygitta screeched.
Kat’s mouth dropped. “They’re withdrawing?!”
“Let me finish, will ya?” Nick gave them both exasperated looks. “They’re gonna propose that the pastor leave only one of them on the list—they didn’t say which one—and add me. But of course, the congregation would have to approve.” Nick shrugged. “And then you called, Kat, and Mrs. Douglass ran out.”
“Incredible.” Kat shook her head thoughtfully. “I mean, I want you to do your internship at SouledOut, Nick, but I was thinking in addition to the Douglasses. But . . . what did Mr. D mean saying that stuff about ‘this apartment is the beginning of your internship’?”
“Hey!” They were interrupted by Conny, who ran into the kitchen right then. “C’mon, Mr. Nick! I thought we was gonna do music!” He tugged on Nick’s arm, and Nick gave an apologetic grin to Kat and Brygitta and let himself be dragged back to the electric guitar.
“Huh. Lucky save.” Kat rolled her eyes. “I think we’re gonna have to get some toys for the kid. Not sure this new music duo is gonna play well for the folks above and below us—not to mention us.” She jumped up and opened the refrigerator. “Hey, Bree, why don’t we make a big lunch salad with that leftover quinoa, add a bunch of cucumbers and onions and stuff, and have some lunch ready when the Douglasses and Rochelle get back?”
Bree snorted. “You make the quinoa salad and I’ll make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We’ve got a kid living with us now, you know.”
Rochelle came back alone and didn’t say a lot, just that they’d had a good talk. “Mom and Peter feel good about Conny and me staying here with you guys. In fact, I think they really like it.” She grinned with a slight irony. “You know, close but not too close, if you know what I mean.”
Over Kat and Bree’s lunch—Conny turned up his nose at the quinoa salad but grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ran off to “explore”—Rochelle said she and “the parents,” as she called them, had decided all four of them should go to her ex’s apartment at the regular time she’d normally take Conny back that evening, take the order of protection if they needed it, but tell Dexter she had a place to stay now and was taking Conny. “Peter said Conny should have a chance to say good-bye to his dad, not just not go back. That it’s the decent thing to do.” She shrugged. “Guess that makes sense. But I don’t know—stuff that makes sense to most people doesn’t always work with Dex. One way or the other, guess we’ll be back tonight. That okay with you guys?”
All three nodded.
Rochelle took a taste of the quinoa salad and raised her eyebrows. “Looks weird, but it’s kinda good.” She laid down her fork. “Just want you guys to know I’m gonna look for a job as soon as possible. It oughta be easier to find one now that I’ve got an actual address. That was always the stumper when I filled out applications. No address. And most of the time no phone ’cause I couldn’t add minutes to my cell.”
Nick and Bree told Rochelle not to worry, she could help with the rent when she got a job. And if they knew what kind of job she was looking for, they’d keep their eye out for her.
“Anything, really. Retail, phones . . . not so much secretarial though. My typing’s a little rusty. Would love to find a babysitting job or something where I could keep Conny with me. But that’s not likely.”
Kat’s mind did a double take. Babysitting? Of course! Olivia had quit her nanny job—and Rochelle needed one. Breathlessly, she spilled her idea. “Does anybody know the name of the family Olivia was working for? We could call and—What?”
Rochelle was shaking her head. “I . . . Most families won’t hire me.”
“Why not? Of course they would!”
Rochelle stared at her plate with its half-eaten sandwich and small serving of salad. “Not when they find out I’ve got HIV.”
Now it was Kat’s turn to stare. Nick and Brygitta seemed just as astounded.
“I’m sorry.” Rochelle looked miserable. “Mom said I needed to tell you guys. Maybe you won’t want me either, now that you know.”
Kat looked helplessly at her other housemates. What did she know about HIV? Not much. But there was medicine now, wasn’t there? . . . and laws about discriminating against people with HIV in the job market . . . and basic safe practices. They even had them posted in various places at CCU, assuming there were people living with HIV within the college community.
“I know you’re wondering how I got HIV.” Rochelle’s eyes came up and she had that fierce look Kat had seen before. “Well, I’ll tell you. My husband. Dex and I got married young, and I’ve never had sex with anyone but him. That’s how my mom and dad raised me. But Dex . . . he gave it to me.” She snorted with disgust. “He’s a real looker, a ladies’ man, had girls running after him. But I didn’t know about the HIV until after I left him.” Tears welled up in her beautiful brown eyes. “See? Even now Dexter is about to ruin something beautiful!” She stood up so suddenly her chair tipped over and fell on the floor with a crash. “I’ll . . . I’ll get Conny and go. I should’ve told you . . . I’m sorry.”
“Wait!” Nick stood in her way. “Rochelle, you don’t have to go. Everything’s happened so fast today, we don’t blame you that you’re just now telling us. It’s a lot for one day. But our invitation stands—right, Kat? Bree?”
Kat nodded. Bree did too.
“We want you, Rochelle—you and Conny. Because God’s been putting all this together, and we know He’ll take care of this too.” And in a gesture Kat had never seen before, Nick took both of Rochelle’s hands in his, closed his eyes, and began to pray. “Jesus, thank You for Rochelle and Conny. Thank You for bringing them here to be with us. We know it was You, Lord, because none of us could have put together this crazy, wonderful plan . . .”
Kat didn’t close her eyes. She was staring at Nick, seeing him as she’d never quite seen him before, and her heart felt as if i
t were doing flip-flops. What was it Mr. D had said as he’d gone out the door? “Take care of the f lock.”
God had given Nick a pastor’s heart. Even here. Now. Could she live with that?
Yes, oh yes.
Chapter 43
Avis wrapped the black silk head wrap around her twists to keep them in place and slid between the sheets, scooting over until she was cuddled against Peter’s broad bare back, her arm resting along his side, their bodies like spoons. She lay with her head on the soft pillow, feeling the energy that had kept her going all this startling, astounding day draining out of her body.
She was tired. Exhausted even. But her eyes were wide open, staring into the velvet darkness. “Peter?”
“Mm.”
“Isn’t it amazing to think that this morning we had no idea where Rochelle and Conny were, and tonight they’re sleeping in the room right beneath us?”
“Mm-hm.”
Rochelle and Conny . . . safe. Together. Here in this building. Oh Lord, it’s almost too wonderful to comprehend! Thank You, Jesus, thank You. Thank You for protecting them, for bringing them home . . .
How long had her Yada Yada sisters been praying for Rochelle and Conny? Months. Well, years if she counted everything that had happened since Rochelle had fled her abusive marriage and then discovered Dexter had infected her with HIV.
She really needed to call Jodi and Estelle and Edesa with the good news. Well, she’d see them at worship tomorrow. And she’d call the rest of the sisters tomorrow afternoon to tell them how God had answered their prayers.
And yet . . . she shuddered. Rochelle and Conny’s situation had been even worse than she’d imagined. She never once thought Rochelle would risk letting Conny stay with his dad. And it’d been touch-and-go that evening too.
“Peter?”
“Mm.”
“You really stood up to Dexter tonight. I was proud of you. And so glad you were there.”