Lauraine Snelling Read online

  “Hope just went that way.” Celia nodded toward the church. “She’s the one who puts this thing together. You need to talk to her, too.”

  Andy smiled and shrugged. How would she recognize Hope in all this crowd?

  As if reading her mind, Celia said, “Light brown skin with freckles, orangy hair in braids. ’Bout five two, dynamo. You can’t miss her.”

  Andy nodded her thanks and continued shopping. After a while she realized a string bag wouldn’t be adequate either. She needed one of those two-wheeled wire carts like some of the other shoppers were pulling around. She would have to start thinking differently if she was going to walk to and from shopping. Of course, she could take her booty home and return for more, but she hated to leave for fear she would miss something.

  Noticing a poster on the church’s door, she made her way between people sitting on the steps, visiting and enjoying the day, and started to read.

  “We have services at ten, Sunday school at 8:45, including an adult class.” The voice came from right behind her.

  Andy turned around. The orangy hair gave the woman away. “You must be Hope.” Celia had not mentioned the warm smile and laughing eyes.

  “Sure enough. Celia sent you on to me?”

  “I’m Andy Taylor, newly moved to Mrs. Marchant’s Garden.” She held out her hand.

  “Hope Benson. I run the women’s shelter here, Casa de Jesus, more commonly known as J House.” Her smile widened. “I’m also the pastor.”

  “Wow, you must keep busier than busy.”

  “Yes, and I love it.” She gestured to the crowd. “And we have a party every Saturday.” She cocked her head. “You buy that brown shingled house with the view that never quits?” At Andy’s nod, she continued. “Mrs. Getz came here to sell her paintings, up until a couple years ago when her health began to fail.”

  “I saw some of her paintings when I visited her. They’re lovely.” Andy set her bags down on the ground and rubbed her palms. “I was telling Starshine that I grow lavender in Oregon. I have a line of lavender products that I wholesale and retail. I was thinking that I might like to set up a table here at your market. What do you think?”

  “I think that’s great. Get the paperwork from Starshine, fill it out, and send it to me.”

  “Hope!”

  Hope glanced around at the caller, then turned back to Andy. “When do you want to start?”

  “Next month, about this time. It would take me that long to get my stuff together.”

  “Sounds good. Like I said, get the paperwork and send it in. I’d better go now and see what they need.” She started to turn and walk away. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow morning in church?”

  “If not tomorrow, another Sunday,” Andy answered, waving her away. “I don’t live here full-time.” Something told her Martin wouldn’t think this congregation quite proper enough for his new corporate lifestyle.

  Andy finished her shopping and trudged home. By the time she reached her entry, her hands were bloodless.

  Martin greeted her at the door and took the bags from her hands. “Maybe you should have taken the car.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but there was no room to park.” She gladly relinquished her bags, stumbled up the stairs, and plopped herself on the sofa. No sooner had she caught her breath than she heard a loud meow. She turned her head to the right and gasped at the huge tabby cat staring back at her.

  “His name is Fluffy,” Martin said, a look of disgust etching his features.

  “But he isn’t … fluffy,” Andy observed. “He’s a short-hair.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Did they bring his stuff?”

  “Oh yeah,” Martin said, gesturing toward the pile in the corner of the room. “If we put all his stuff out, we won’t have any place for our stuff.” Martin walked over to the pile. “He has a bed for every room,” he said, lifting them one at a time. There was a leopard chaise, a red velvet Victorian settee, and a black leather Harley Davidson chair. “He has an electronic, self-cleaning cat box that requires clumping cat litter. I repeat, clumping cat litter.” Andy couldn’t resist a chuckle, although Martin’s face bore no trace of levity. He picked up the bag and pointed to the word clumping. “He has two scratching posts slash cat trees with holes that he can play hide-and-seek in. And he has a variety of toys.” Martin picked up a large plastic bag, opened it, and spilled them out on the floor. “Remote control mice, cat-nip scented bubbles with a wand that we are supposed to wave to make the bubbles, and talking toys that have Mrs. Getz’s recorded voice saying, ‘Kitty kitty num-num’ and ‘Mommy loves Fluffy.’”

  Andy’s laughter escalated to the point where she couldn’t speak. She had never in all her life seen Martin look or talk like this. With his straight face and his humorless tone, he could have won the best comedian of the year award.

  At long last she found her voice. “Does he seem to be a nice cat?” She turned just in time to see Fluffy get up from a furry blue sofa bed and pad over to Martin.

  “He hasn’t bitten me or clawed me so far.”

  Fluffy stopped midway across the room, arched and stretched every muscle and ligament, then proceeded over to Martin, meowed, and twined around his ankles. Martin picked him up and held him against his chest, stroking his orange fur. The cat scraped his evening shadow of beard with his coarse tongue, the sound rasping in the stillness.

  Andy could hardly believe what she was seeing. Martin had never picked Chai Lai up and held her like that. But then Chai Lai had never meowed at Martin and twined around his ankles. A thought came to her, but she quickly put it aside. Meowing and twining were not her style. She would have to find another way to get Martin to accept her compromise and put his jealousy aside.

  Andy stood up and went over to pet Fluffy. “How much do you think he weighs?”

  “They told me he weighs eighteen pounds, but that he’s not fat, he’s big-boned.”

  Andy burst out laughing. This was getting funnier by the second. “Did they give you his medical history?”

  Martin pointed to a small plastic file box. “His vet is just a few blocks away.” Still holding the cat, Martin walked over to the small portable television set Andy had confiscated from her sewing room at home. “These are his videos,” he said, taking up the remote and pushing a button.

  “Videos? What would a cat do with a video?”

  The moment the picture came on the screen, Andy howled with laughter.

  Saltwater fish of every color swam back and forth across the screen. Martin turned Fluffy’s head, and the second the cat saw them, he meowed and scrambled to get down.

  “They told me the fish are his favorite, but that we should rotate them so he won’t get bored. Personally, I would think he’d like the mouse video over the fish. But what do I know?”

  “Oh, Martin,” Andy said, her laughter interrupting her voice. “I love you, honey.” She walked over to him, twined her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  “Good morning!”

  “Good morning,” the congregation answered rather weakly, but Hope smiled at them with all the love she always shared so freely.

  “Welcome to worship at Casa de Jesus this Sunday morning. Our opening song is Our God Is an Awesome God.’ You’ll find the words in your bulletin.” She nodded to Roger, who held his guitar at the ready. He played the opening chords, and between the two of them, they led the singing.

  “Our God is an awesome God … ” Both the words and music always gave her a thrill. Much as “Holy, Holy, Holy” did those first years of her new life. Every Sunday, to open the service, they sang two praise songs and one hymn so that people would not forget the great hymns. Today her congregation broke into harmony on “Beautiful Savior,” and she had all she could do to keep from crying.

  When Roger sat down, Hope stood and tucked her bulletin inside her Bible. “I know that when you sing like that, we are all experiencing a little bit of what the music will be like in heaven. Let us pray.”r />
  As the rustling settled, she used a deep breath to calm herself, to prepare for the message. “Heavenly Father, we thank You for the privilege of worshiping You in freedom, all of us together; that we have a place to meet, to draw closer as members of Your family. We rejoice that You are our Father, the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, that with You there is no shadow of change. We ask You to bless our worship today, that we may grow closer to You minute by minute. In Jesus’s precious name, amen.”

  The “amen” returned, and Roger stood to lead the simple liturgy. He sang a line, and they all repeated it.

  “Holy Father.” They sang it back.

  “Jesus, Son of God.” His voice rose, lifting those who followed.

  “Holy Spirit, Teacher of us all.”

  Hope watched her people singing, some so serious, others smiling. Some with lifted hands. A little girl swaying in time to the music.

  “We worship You, we praise You, we sing Your names forever. Amen, amen, amen.” Roger had written the words and set them to simple music so that all could take part.

  “Celia will read our lesson, and then together well read the psalm.”

  Celia left her folding chair in the front row, took a couple steps forward, and turned to face the gathering. “Our lesson today is from Paul’s letter to the Ephesian people, and I am reading from The Message so we can all understand it better. Got that?”

  Hope had to smile at Celia’s small addition. Many of their people didn’t read well, and the more contemporary words made more sense to them.

  Roger led them in the first verse of “Spirit of the Living God” before the gospel.

  Hope had been preaching a series on the miracles Jesus performed, so she read the story of the man who could walk again. She prayed for guidance and wisdom, and that all would have ears to hear, and then she let the silence stretch. When she opened her eyes, she saw one of her girls wiping her eyes with the tail of her blouse. Always God amazed and delighted her when He spoke through the silence. “Ah, my dear family, let’s talk together about what Jesus did then and what He does today.” She retold the story, then asked the question: “What would you have done if you couldn’t walk and Jesus told you to get up?”

  Alphi shrugged. “I’d get up and walk. Don’t want to dis de man.”

  Titters danced like dry rustling leaves over the gathering.

  “Good thinking, Alphi. Anyone else?”

  “Had he been crippled for a long time?” came a voice from the back.

  “We assume so from the story.”

  “He be afraid and wonderin’, what if nothin’ happen?”

  “I’d think so. So why did he do it?”

  “Jesus, He look you in de eye ‘n’ take all de fear away.” A female voice this time.

  Hope waited, letting the words sink in. “So how about us, today? Doesn’t Jesus say to us, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?”

  “A whole bed?” One of the little girls squeaked.

  More soft laughter.

  “But I ain’t crippled.” A little boy stood up and spun in a circle.

  Hope nodded. “We are all crippled in one way or another. From fear, from someone beating on us, from us beating on ourselves. We are crippled inside from hate and disappointments, from not enough love and too much violence from those around us. So we need to keep our eyes on Jesus, listen for His soft command, to rise up and walk, and keep on walking so that we can learn to love and to dance and to sing. Because de man”—she grinned and winked at Alphi—“said we can, and we must. Amen.”

  She nodded to Roger, who stood and strummed the chords for “Silver and Gold Have I None.”

  Everyone sang, “He went walking and leaping and praising God.”

  After the offering and Communion, where everyone took part of the small loaf of bread and a sip of the wine, they closed the service singing the “The Lord’s Prayer,” followed by the benediction.

  Giving the blessing was one of Hopes favorite parts of the service. She raised her hands. “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face to shine on you and give you His peace. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, amen.” She made the sign of the cross and added, “Go in peace and serve the Lord.”

  “Thanks be to God.” Little Hallie broke from her mother and ran to throw her arms around Hopes leg, right around the simple robe she wore. “Jesus love me, huh, Miss Hope?”

  Hope bent over and swung the little one up to her hip. “He sure does, and so do I.” Kissing the soft little cheek, she reached out to grasp the mother’s hand. “So how’s life going? Sure glad to see you here.”

  “Ah, Hope, I just can’t believe it.” The young black mother had graduated from high school in June and from J House in August. They were living in a halfway house, one of the arms of J House that Hope would love to add on to. “I still have my job in the preschool, and I go to school at night.” Her eyes brightened with tears. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t kept on me. Sorry I wasn’t brave enough to stand up and tell everyone, but most of them know.”

  “That’s okay.” Hope hugged the young woman and handed Hallie over, then hugged them both. “What about Jimmy?”

  “He’s in rehab, but I ain’t makin’ no promises. Clean and sober and a job. That’s what I told him. He’s workin’ on walkin’ with Jesus too.”

  “Well, we miss you here, but honey, we sure don’t want you to come back, except for church, that is, and to any classes you want.” Hope turned, stretched out her hand, and pointed. “That woman right over there, her name’s Julia, you go talk to her. She’s got some good stuff for you.”

  “Will do.”

  Hope glanced up to see Andy with a good-looking man beside her. While he was almost smiling now, he’d been frowning through much of the service. Shaking hands and patting shoulders, she made her way over to the couple. “Hi Andy.”

  “You remembered my name.”

  “That’s not hard. You were here only yesterday. Glad you could come. I know moving in takes up lots of time.” She turned to the man. “Hi, I’m Hope Benson. I really enjoyed my short visit with your wife yesterday. Hope to see you again.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure you serve quite a polyglot parish here.”

  And you want no part of it. Such a shame. Your wife would love it here. “Yes, we have an unusual ministry.” Hope glanced around at the people talking in small groups, someone handing out cookies and coffee, children playing in and among the adults. She savored the bright laughter and was delighted to see several of the street people from the neighborhood, as well as some of the residents. Polyglot. A good word. “I do hope you’ll come again.”

  “Thanks.” Andy squeezed her hand.

  “Hey, I just thought of something. There’s a few of us meeting for coffee on Tuesday at ten.” Please, Lord, let my schedule be clear. “You might want to come.”

  “I can’t. My flight leaves this afternoon, and I won’t be back for a few weeks.”

  “Next time, then. Maybe you can bring us some of that lavender tea Starshine said you have.” She saw Hope’s husband frown. He didn’t like lavender tea? Or he didn’t like discussions about lavender tea?

  Andy smiled. “Well then, I’ll make a point of bringing some back with me.”

  “Good. I’ll see you soon.” Hope smiled at the husband, but he was too intent in getting his wife out of there to look back. She watched them leave and thought she detected a look of disappointment on Andy’s face, but she couldn’t be sure.

  A few minutes later she heard car doors slam outside. Four men entered, three uniforms and a suit. Their faces were blank.

  “You’re late for church, gentlemen.” She gave them her brightest smile. “How can we help you?” Roger appeared from out of nowhere and stood beside her.

  “We have a search warrant. No one is to leave this room. ”

  Roger looked incredulous. “Come on, Carlos. What’s with the official face?”

  H
ope knew Roger was upset; he’d known Carlos for ten years or more.

  “Just let me do my job, okay?” Carlos raised his voice. “Don’t anybody leave this room,” he said in a stentorian voice that bounced off the walls. He turned to the uniforms and gave a hand signal. “Make it thorough but make it neat.” Then he turned back to Roger. “We’ll make this as quick as possible.”

  “What are you looking for?” Hope demanded.

  Roger took her arm. “It’s gotta be drugs. You got a tip, right?”

  Officer Carlos nodded.

  Please, Lord God, let there be none here. While all the residents vowed they had nothing, to some of them a little marijuana meant nothing.

  “You don’t go messing up my undies drawer, you hear?” Celia shouted at their backs. She clamped hands on her hips and stomped across to face off with Carlos. “You know better than this. And on a Sunday mornin’ even.” She wagged a finger at him. “What’s San Francisco’s finest coming to?”

  “I can help you search the kitchen if you like,” Roger offered, stepping between Carlos and Celia.

  “You know I can’t do that. Come on, give a guy a break.”

  Hope raised an eyebrow. I’d like to give you a break. How about an arm or a leg? Hope, you know better. What happened to “Love your enemies”? Some of the people moved to the back of the commons area. Others shifted and re-formed into new groups. Some simply stood and eyed the man in charge with distrust. Why should they trust him?

  Too many of them had been on the other side of the law and knew firsthand that there was a difference between the way the police handled the rich and the poor. Maybe because she’d been on the other side, the poor side, Hope had more resentment. Her feelings were intensified by how hard she and Roger had worked to guarantee a clean house, using a plan that the police had devised. The girls all knew that even one infraction meant they were out.

  So who could have called in a tip? Someone they’d helped but had to let go? A relative who bore a grudge against one of the girls? Angry husbands were always a prime suspect. She leaned into Roger, the question in her eyes.