It wasn’t like I was looking forward to cutting programs. We’d already done away with the monthly newsletter we mailed out. A good portion of the congregation was older and not many were computer savvy, so when the newsletter was delivered via email it had created a problem. We’d cut back on the janitorial services and lowered the heat in the church. My mind raced with the difficult decisions facing me.
Truthfully, I’d like nothing more than to avoid seeing Alex and dealing with the church’s finances. The thing was, I had responsibilities, ones that weighed heavily on my shoulders.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked before I stated my argument.
“Basketball,” Kevin said.
The word hung in the air between us. He must be joking. It was a good thing Kevin couldn’t see me roll my eyes. “I can’t cancel these appointments so we can run around a basketball court.”
“Yes, you can. There’s a thing called self-maintenance. Whether you’re willing to admit it or not, you need this. I’m not going to listen to excuses. Either you show or I’m going to come collect you myself.”
“It’s been years since I played basketball.” Before Katie’s cancer. Before that even. Years. I was rusty and out of shape. Kevin was sure to run circles around me. My entire life revolved around the church and my family. What Kevin called self-maintenance hadn’t been on my to-do list for longer than I could remember.
“You hear me?” Kevin demanded. “I said I’m not listening to any arguments.”
I sighed, accepting defeat. I recognized that tone of voice and wouldn’t put it past him to come to the office and collect me like an errant teen.
My call had been on behalf of Shay, hoping Kevin would be able to help her. I hadn’t expected more than a quick phone conversation. Now this.
For all I knew, Kevin was the answer to Shay’s prayers.
And to mine as well.
I wasn’t sure what to think when Pastor Douglas told me about Hope Center. Seeing how limited my options were, I agreed to go with him, but my expectations weren’t high. Why should they be?
When we arrived I thought the building was a hotel. I assumed the center would look more like one of the run-down shelters. One with cots shored up against the walls and people lined up early to be sure they were there in time for a hot meal and a bed. Not this modern high-rise building.
“Pastor…” I stood outside, unsure this was the right place. “This is it? Hope Center?” I called him pastor but I thought of him as Drew. That was the way he’d introduced himself to me and it was the name that stuck in my head.
“Is there a problem?”
I shook my head, biting back my surprise. We’d both been quiet on the drive over and I wondered if he regretted his willingness to help me. I kept quiet for fear my acid tongue would ruin this chance.
We found parking along the side of the building and then walked toward the entrance. I took in everything I could as we headed in that direction. I saw a line of preschool children walking with three adults. The children cheerfully bounced along, holding hands. Their smiling faces startled me. It had been a long time since I’d heard children laugh. Drew had mentioned earlier that Hope Center took in mothers with children and I wondered if these little ones were some of those. It didn’t seem likely, seeing how happy they looked.
Joyful.
I hadn’t known joy, true joy, in such a long time that witnessing it, seeing it in others, struck me like a slap in the face. Not in a hurtful way but more like an awakening. From the moment I’d lost my mother, all sense of comfort and love had been ripped away.
Once inside the building we were greeted by a receptionist, just as if we were registering for a hotel room. Only we weren’t given room keys. Instead, we signed in and were handed badges that identified us as visitors. I kept looking around suspiciously, not knowing what to expect. A decorated Christmas tree sat in the corner of the foyer with wrapped packages stacked below it.
My heart pounded like I’d been running uphill, and I knew the reason. I’d alluded to the fact that I’d made mistakes in the past, but I hadn’t mentioned what they were. Drew wasn’t my confessor and no way was I willing to spill my guts to him—or anyone else, for that matter.
I wasn’t proud of the relationships I’d had, especially as a teenager. Part of the reason I’d stolen the money to help Caden had been out of guilt. It was because of me that my brother had fallen into drugs.
I was the one who’d introduced him to Shooter.
At one time Shooter had been my boyfriend. An older bad boy who’d taken a liking to me. I’d never had anyone tell me I was pretty before or think I was anything special. Shooter did, or said so. It wasn’t until later that I learned how he got his name. It didn’t take long for me to discover he was a younger version of my dad, only instead of alcohol, he was into meth and crack cocaine. When he used, he got violent. It was only after he was arrested that I was able to break free of him. That was the chance I needed and I’d grabbed hold of it with both hands and escaped.
Shooter didn’t like me going to school, so I’d dropped out my senior year to be with him. First thing I did when he was sent to prison was get my GED. With the help of a counselor and my diploma in hand, I searched for a job that would support me enough to get away from the life I desperately wanted to escape. The job as a bank teller had been the opportunity I’d only dreamed about, and I’d blown it.
Big-time.
No one was going to be willing to give me another chance and I couldn’t blame them. But that was water under the bridge. I couldn’t think like that. Elizabeth, my prison pen pal, had once assured me that there would be more chances for me. I didn’t believe her. Yet here I was, on the threshold of an unexpected break. Seeing that my history left a lot to be desired, I was afraid, scared out of my wits that I had blown this chance, too.
Drew and I were told to take a seat and I did, sitting on the edge of the cushion, my heart beating so loud and hard I was afraid he would hear it and comment.
He glanced over at me and offered a reassuring smile. “You okay?”
“Of course,” I snapped, as if I resented the question. Lies came easy to me, always had. Wasn’t sure I could break the habit. Wasn’t sure it was possible.
Within a few minutes we were approached by two people. A man and a woman.
Drew stood as they came closer. The man grinned at Drew and the two pumped fists like they were brothers.
“Shay,” Drew said, addressing me. “This is Kevin Forester; he’s the director of Hope Center.”
I met his look and bobbed my head in recognition.
“And this is Lilly Palmer. She’s going to handle your evaluation,” Kevin said, speaking to me.
Lilly stared at me as if sizing me up and finding me lacking.
Her eyes cut straight through me. So it was going to be like that. Fine, I could take whatever she had to dish out. What little hope I’d held quickly faded. As nuts as it sounded, I wanted to take hold of Drew’s hand. The thought stunned me. I wasn’t a pansy. I could take care of myself. I had been doing it from the time I was barely a teenager. I didn’t need him or anyone else.
Besides, I barely knew the man. I was nothing to him. I was nothing to anyone.
As if he’d read my thoughts, Drew offered me a gentle smile and patted my shoulder. “You’re going to do great.”
“If you’ll come with me,” Lilly said, no warmth in her. This woman was cold.
Stiffening my shoulders and my resolve, I followed. A dozen steps and I looked back to see Drew and Kevin deep in conversation. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t need him. To my embarrassment, Drew must have felt my eyes on him, because he looked up and nodded as if to say that I had nothing to worry about.
Yeah, right.
Lilly led me into a cubicle and gestured for me to take a seat. She sat down on the other side of the desk and set her hands on top, looking me over.
“As you know, my name is Lilly,” she said. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Go ahead.” I stiffened but played nice.
“I expect honesty, Shay. If I find out you’re lying you will automatically be excluded from the program.”