Who do i talk to, p.11
Who Do I Talk To?, page 11
“Ya think so?” Lucy allowed a big grin, showing her missing teeth.
Once everything was inside the foyer, Mr. Bentley straightened, hand on his back. “Now, where do ya want this stuff, Mrs.
Fairbanks? Seems like all I’m doin’ lately is hauling your stuff around.” He rolled his eyes—but then winked at me.
“You’ve done enough, Mr. B. I’ll get some other volunteers to move this stuff once we figure out what to do with it . . . oh!
There’s the lunch bell. DeShawn, you and your grandpa are invited for lunch. Estelle showed up this morning, decided to wrap up our hair-raising experience with a good meal.”
Mr. Bentley chuckled. “Sounds like Miss Estelle. Some woman.”
I noticed I didn’t have to ask him twice.
Estelle’s lunch perked up everyone’s spirits. She put Jodi to work after the typing class, and they served up teriyaki chicken, rice, fruit salad, and pineapple upside-down cake for dessert. A couple of the board members who’d seen the news clips showed up—Liz Handley and Peter Douglass with his wife, Avis—to make sure everyone was all right and to huddle with Mabel about how to deal with the media. Estelle must have anticipated extra mouths, because she made everyone eat and still had leftovers.
I tried to save a couple of seats for Mr. Bentley and his grandson at the table where I parked my mom, but when I looked up, they’d been hijacked to the table with the Douglasses. When Jodi finally got to eat, she and Avis got their heads together about something. Even Mr. B and Peter seemed to be talking like old times. Huh. I invite Mr. Bentley one time to our Fun Night here at the shelter, and suddenly he’s everybody’s best friend.
Still, Jodi did say she’d like to talk to me, so I tried to hurry my mother along, hoping to grab Jodi before she left. But Mom would not be hurried. “Mm, that upside-down cake is good. But I need coffee with something sweet. Gabby, would you—?”
I jumped up to get the coffee, thinking it was as good as any time to speak to Jodi. But Mabel got to me first. “Gabby, better ask for some volunteers to help you move the stuff in the foyer. Guess you can put it down here in the rec room for now. But you better keep checking the front steps—I don’t think we’ve seen the end of it yet.”
Oh brother. I’d almost forgotten about the glut of “dog stuff ” upstairs. With a sigh, I got Mom’s coffee, then caught Jodi Baxter on her way up to the counter with her dirty dishes.
“Jodi! I’d really like to talk to you, but I’ve got to do something about all the stuff total strangers have been leaving on the doorstep. And I don’t want to keep you waiting . . .”
“Oh, that’s okay. Let me help.” She grinned. “Denny and Josh are doing some plumbing thing over at their apartment. The only thing waiting for me at home is a dirty kitchen floor and two baskets of laundry to fold. I’d rather play with those stuffed animals—oh.” She dumped her dirty dishes and pulled me aside. “Actually, I’d really love to meet Dandy. Is he—?”
“In my office.” I eyed the closed door. “But let’s wait till the dining room clears out. I’ll grab a few more people to help haul stuff, and maybe by that time—whoa! What’s this?”
Tina clattered down the stairs, hefting a bag of dog food over her shoulder, followed by several of the other residents, arms loaded. “Where does this stuff go?” Tina demanded. “I got one more trip.”
I pointed to the rec room. “Uh, Jodi, could you help organize stuff in there? I’ll go upstairs and see what’s going on.”
Squeezing up the staircase past several of the kids coming down, arms full of stuffed animals and posters, I ran into Lucy at the top, who’d planted herself squarely in the way of anyone coming up from the dining room. “Two trips, missy. With as much as you can carry ’fore you go to the beauty shop or take a nap, whichever is gonna revive that fuzz top o’ yours—hey! Hey, Sheila! Ever’body’s gotta take two loads a’ stuff outta the foyer and get it downstairs ’fore they do anything else! Means you, sister! You signed the official mascot petition, din’tcha? Well?”
I scurried to the foyer and got my first armload. “Thanks, Lucy,” I said on my way back to the stairs.
“Huh. Don’t thank me . Them that can run up an’ down stairs get to carry stuff. Them that can’t get to boss all the rest a’ ya.” But she allowed a grin for the second time that day—then hollered after me, “An’ ya better check the front steps! Bunch more stuff showed up during lunch!”
Many hands did make light work, to prove the cliché, and Estelle was shutting down the kitchen as we deposited the last bag of dog food in the rec room. Jodi had done a great job, storing most of it out of the way under the Ping-Pong table, the rest in black plastic garbage bags in the corners behind the bean bag chairs. On the spur of the moment, I grabbed an armload of the cutest stuffed doggies and went hunting for young Sammy. “Here, buddy, I have a job for you. Give one to each of the kids here at Manna House, okay? And choose one for yourself.”
I was rewarded with a high five.
“What are you going to do with all this?” Jodi asked as I unlocked my office.
I shook my head. “I dunno. Can’t think yet. Well . . . there he is. The Manna House Hero.”
Dandy lifted his head as I turned on the light. Jodi immediately got down on the floor beside him. “Hey there, Dandy, good boy.” She spoke softly, crooning his name, gently stroking his matted neck hair. The dog licked her hand. “Aw, Gabby. He’s so sweet.” Dandy laid his head back down under her gentle petting. “We used to have a dog. A chocolate Lab. We named him Willie Wonka. He died a couple of years ago, just old age. I still really miss him . . .”
I sat quietly in my desk chair while she petted Dandy. Then she turned her head to me, still sitting on the floor. “Gabby, I still want to hear why you and your mom and Dandy here are staying at the shelter. But I’ve been thinking . . . would you like to come stay at our house for the weekend? We’ve got a couple of empty bedrooms right now—I mean, Amanda’s home from college, but she went with the youth from our church on a mission trip and won’t be back for another week.”
“Oh, Jodi. That’s so nice. But I can’t leave Dandy right now. And my mom—”
“I meant all three of you! Actually, thinking about Dandy’s injury gave me the idea. I mean, we’ve got a backyard, well, at least there’s some grass, and it’s only a few steps from the porch to the yard. We could make a bed for Dandy on the porch since the weather’s decent, give him a few days to recover from his injury and a place to be outside when he’s ready. Sheesh! Stay the whole week if you’d like.”
I stared at her. The idea of sleeping in a room all to myself instead of a bunk room with four other people, one of whom snored like a chainsaw, sounded like an ad for a vacation in Tahiti. The media couldn’t find me or Dandy . . . maybe they’d go away. Huh. Philip couldn’t find me either—I needed another phone call like the one this morning like I needed a root canal. Mom wouldn’t have to climb stairs . . . and what Jodi said about Dandy being able to recover away from hordes of admirers and curiosity seekers was downright brilliant.
“Oh, Jodi. Are you sure? I mean, I have to come to work Monday—”
“So?” She got to her feet and brushed dog hair off her slacks. “Take the El. Josh and Edesa do it all the time from Rogers Park. I’m off for the summer. Your mom and Dandy can stay with me.”
Of course I could take the El. That’s how I’d been getting to work before the fallout with Philip. I’d just have to allow a little more time. But leaving my mother with the Baxters during the day . . . that seemed like too much. Didn’t Jodi have to check with her husband?
Still . . .
I grinned. “Okay . . . why not? At least for the weekend, I mean.” I jumped up and gave Jodi a big hug. “Thanks, Jodi.” I had to push the words past the lump in my throat. “Thanks so much. I can’t begin to tell you what a gift this is.”
It still took us a good hour to let Mabel know the plan and check out for the weekend, pack a bag for my mother and myself, gather up a garbage bag of laundry to do, and enlist Tina’s help carrying Dandy out to the Baxters’ minivan. We took him out the lower side door into the gangway and met Jodi and the minivan in the alley to avoid dozens of questions about why the official watchdog was suddenly leaving—making sure the door got locked again this time, of course. But I did make a point to let Lucy know what was happening.
She was not a happy camper.
“Why all a’ sudden you think that other lady can take better care o’ that dog than me, huh? Didn’t you say next to Gramma Shep that I was his fav’rite people?” The scowl on her face was deep enough to hide a quarter in.
“That’s not it at all, Lucy! It’s just a quieter place for a few days. Fewer people. A yard where he can get up and walk around without attracting lots of attention—you know, out there.” I pointed to the front doors. “And we’ll be back in a few days.”
Lucy turned and stomped off like Billy Goat Gruff across his wooden bridge. “Huh. Of all the dang-blasted . . .”
I didn’t hear the rest of her muttering. Probably just as well. My mother seemed bewildered by the sudden upset to her shelter routine, and I realized with a guilty stab that Martha Shepherd hadn’t been outside the building the entire week—not since Mabel had agreed she qualified as “homeless” and could sign up on the bed list. But when Mom realized Dandy was coming along, she meekly submitted to me snapping her into the seat belt in the second seat of the Dodge Caravan.
“Wait!” I told Jodi as she started the engine. “Didn’t Estelle come with you? Where is she? I didn’t see—”
Jodi laughed. “Don’t worry about Estelle. Harry Bentley and his grandson took her home.”
Harry Bentley. Jodi and I looked at each other. “Ah. Young love,” she said, and we both cracked up.
Jodi found a through street that took her to Lake Shore Drive and headed north. I leaned back against the headrest of the front passenger seat and watched the parkland next to the lake fly by, the paths full of joggers, people walking dogs, parents pushing strollers, and bikers in Spandex and helmets weaving in and out, somehow managing to avoid running over anyone. And beyond that, Lake Michigan, a peaceful, flat line against the far horizon.
The second wind that had kept me going so far that day started to fizzle, and I felt my eyelids getting heavy. Oh God, thank You . . . It feels so good to just sit, to be taken care of just a little bit . . .
chapter 16
“Gabby? We’re here.”
“What?” I opened my eyes. Jodi was pulling the minivan into a two-car garage, next to a candy-apple-red Hyundai. “Oh, I’m sorry! I must have fallen asleep.” I glanced back into the second seat. “Good grief. We all slept like zombies—except you, I hope.”
Jodi laughed. “Got you here, didn’t I? Come on. I’ll see if Denny’s here to carry Dandy inside.”
I shook my mom awake and helped her out of the car. “Nice car,” I murmured as we threaded our way past the Hyundai. “Denny’s?”
“Ha! Doesn’t he wish. No, it belongs to Stu, our friend who lives upstairs. Estelle’s housemate.”
Denny Baxter, it turned out, was sprawled in a recliner in the living room, watching Saturday afternoon sports with two young cats parked on his chest, and he didn’t seem the least bit fazed that his wife showed up with three extra warm bodies who were going to “stay the weekend,” as she put it. “Hey, great,” he said, dumping the cats. “And you brought Hero Dog? Ha! About time these two got dethroned.” He jerked a playful thumb at the disgruntled cats. Two big dimples creased his cheeks.
Jodi got iced tea for Mom and me, while Denny brought up a large cushiony dog bed from their basement and put it on the back porch near the porch swing. “I knew we’d need this again someday,” Jodi said. “Couldn’t bear to throw it out after Wonka died.”
Denny carried a whimpering Dandy from the backseat of the minivan and settled him gently on the dog bed while Jodi showed us to our “guest rooms.” “Take your pick,” she said. “Sorry about all of Amanda’s stuff in here. Even Josh left some of his stuff here when he got married. Can’t blame him, though—their apartment is no bigger than a postage stamp . . . Say, do you guys want to finish your naps? You’ve had a long day—hey! Patches! Peanuts! Get out of here.” She snatched up the two cats—big kittens really, one calico and the other mostly black with white paws—and disappeared.
I was so tempted to crash. But it was already four o’clock. Told myself I should probably gut it out and just get a good night’s sleep that night. But I encouraged Mom to lie down in Josh’s old room—it had the least paraphernalia to trip over—with a light afghan over her, then made my way back through the Baxters’ dining room and kitchen and out onto the back porch to check on Dandy.
Jodi was in the porch swing, husking corn on the cob. “I think the squeak of this old swing put Dandy to sleep.” She grinned, stopped the swing, and patted the seat beside her. “Come sit. You okay?”
I sat. The Baxters’ backyard was narrow, with straggly flower beds running along the fence on both sides. The neighboring buildings were a combination of similar two-flats—brick, tidy, their garages facing an alley running behind the houses—and three-story apartment buildings. Trees lining the next street over and the occasional backyard softened the cityscape. A bird feeder hung from the corner of the Baxters’ garage, and flower boxes decorated the railings of the back porch.
A far cry from the Fairbanks’ parklike suburban home in Virginia, the lush lawn spilling over with flowering bushes and flower beds. And yet this tiny urban yard felt like an oasis of peace. “Incredible,” I murmured.
“Yeah, well, my family likes to pretend I have a green thumb. Denny made the flower boxes, and Amanda stenciled them—but the flowers would all be dead if Stu and Estelle didn’t help me out.”
I shook my head. “Didn’t mean the flower boxes. You and your husband . . . I mean, you brought me and my mom and a sick dog home without even telling him, and he didn’t bat an eye.”
“Oh, Denny. He’s pretty unflappable.” She laughed—then stopped herself when she saw the tears sliding down my face. “Sheesh. I’m sorry, Gabby. Me and my big mouth . . . Do you want to talk about it?”
I mopped my eyes with a bedraggled tissue I pulled out of my jeans pocket and shrugged. “Don’t even know where to start . . .”
Jodi laid a hand on my arm. “Try the beginning. When did you two meet?”
Jodi was a good listener, asking a question from time to time, but mostly just letting me talk. And once I started, I could hardly stop. Not sure how she put it all together, because I jumped all over the place. Even told her about getting jilted by Damien, my high-school Romeo who turned out to be Casanova instead. “But Philip was different. He never messed with other women. I thought he really loved me . . .” I bit my lip. “And I loved him. Still do, I guess. My heart used to do flip-flops every time he walked in the room. He used to hold me, whisper in my ear, tell me I added spice to his life . . .”
Jodi handed me a clean tissue and waited patiently through another torrent of tears.
“But then . . . I dunno. He and his dad didn’t get along in the business. Philip started trying to prove himself or something. Now he . . . he’s like a different person! Not overnight or anything—guess that’s the problem. Not sure when things started to go south. I got used to feeling like I was in his way, started second-guessing everything I said or did, worried about how he might react. And then . . . then this move to Chicago. Suddenly I felt like I’d landed on Mars, gasping for air . . .”
It was hard telling Jodi about Philip refusing to let my mother stay with us, deliberately losing the dog, and then locking me out of my own home. Jodi with her “unflappable” husband. Kind Denny. Funny Denny. Easygoing Denny . . .
I blinked back the hot tears that seemed to lurk behind my eyeballs. What did I do wrong to get treated like a dog?!
I shook my head, trying to regain my composure. The squeak, squeak of the porch swing and birds flitting in the trees played like a simple melody against the far-off drone of traffic. I finally sighed. “Really, if I hadn’t run into Lucy and ended up with the job at Manna House, I don’t know what I would have done. Jumped off the roof or something.”
“From what I’ve heard, Manna House considers you a blessing.”
I looked sideways at Jodi. “Huh. Don’t know about that. But . . . do you know what Mabel said to me when I applied for the job of program director? She said she believes God brought me to Chicago because He has a purpose for me at Manna House. Like that’s the real reason God brought us here.”
“Really?” Jodi’s eyes went wide. “She said that?”
I nodded. “Sometimes that’s the only thing I hold on to. That, and this note Edesa left for me the other night.” I pulled the crumpled note out of my jeans pocket and handed it to her.
Jodi read it, absently tucking a strand of her shoulder-length brown hair behind one ear, a smile softening her pleasant features. She looked up. “Sounds like Edesa, all right. Isn’t she something? She’s older than Josh, you know—just a couple of years, but I think he fell in love with her while he was still in high school.” She looked at the note again. “Hm. Isaiah 49. Yeah, I love that verse. ‘See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands . . .’ Powerful stuff. Did you read the rest of the chapter?”
I nodded. “Like a dozen times. But I don’t know what she meant by that.” I pointed to the last line of the note.
Jodi read it aloud. “‘Dear Gabrielle, your parents gave you the right name. Live it!’” Now her smile widened. “Well, let’s find out!”
“Find out? What do you mean?”
She jumped up and pulled me off the swing. “Come on.”
Two minutes later Jodi had booted up the computer in their dining room, which seemed to double as the family office, and was clicking through Web sites. I hunched over her shoulder, wondering what she was doing. “How do you spell your name?” she murmured. “Gabrielle, not Gabby.” She typed it into a search box as I spelled it out.
