Читать книгу Gabriel's Discovery - Felicia Mason - Страница 11

From where he stood saying farewell to picnic-goers, Gabriel watched Susan Carter embrace her daughters. The scene filled him with a longing he’d, until now, managed to mostly ignore. For all his talk about being willing to wait for a wife and the family that would eventually come, the fact of the matter was simple: Gabriel Dawson was lonely.

Not the sort of loneliness that made people do irrational and potentially dangerous things, like meet an Internet chat buddy for the first time in a secluded location. He instead suffered from the same affliction that plagued a lot of single people his age: the “no one to talk to at the end of the day” blues.

That wasn’t the sort of thing a single minister liked to broadcast, particularly given the matchmaking penchant of some of his parishioners. He led an active life, always had, but sometimes—like now, watching Susan and her daughters—he had to wonder if he filled his time with projects and people in an effort to escape what would otherwise be unbearable.

His sort of loneliness couldn’t be cured with a pet, though he’d seriously considered adopting a dog from one of the city’s animal rescue groups. Growing up, his family always had dogs in the house and yard, at least three. Gabriel came from a large, loud family. People were always underfoot and in his business. That’s the sort of thing he missed. Though his brothers and sister lived all across the country now, they still remained as close as e-mail and phone calls, and two trips back to Carolina each year.

“This was a lot of fun, Pastor Gabriel. Thanks for keeping up the tradition.”

Not given to long moments of introspection, Gabriel deliberately shifted so he didn’t have to look straight at Susan and her daughters as he spoke to people.

“I’m glad you came,” he told a man who was there with his wife and family. The wife looked disgruntled and the children tired.

It had been a long day.

“Are you going to the fireworks later?” Gabriel asked.

“We’ve had about all we can take for one day, Pastor,” the woman said. “These guys have school tomorrow.”

A chorus of “aw, Mom” followed that pronouncement as the family moved toward the parking lot.

Gabriel smiled. He’d expected to have trouble landing a pastorate the size of Good Shepherd because, at thirty-eight, he remained a single man—unusual, but not unheard of. Most congregations preferred that their leader come as a package: a lovely and devoted wife who would be expected to either sing in the choir or teach Sunday school, along with one, two or three perfect or near-perfect children rounding out the Christmas card picture. Though he didn’t have that—yet—he’d been remarkably blessed. And he loved the people of Good Shepherd—even if he couldn’t come right out and say that the thing congregations wanted for their pastors he also wanted for himself.

His gaze drifted back to Susan. She hugged the girls close to her and then appeared to wipe their eyes as she stood up.

“Pastor Gabriel!” A husky eleven-year-old tackled him in a bear hug.

“Tommy! You’re going to knock the man down.”

“He’s fine, Mrs. Anderson,” Gabriel said, giving the child a hug in return, the Down syndrome boy one of the most loving and gregarious members of the church.

“Did you have a good time today?”

“The best!”

“Gimme five, my man,” Gabriel said, holding up his hand.

The two slapped palms and laughed at the ritual they shared.

“Thanks for everything, Pastor,” Mrs. Anderson said. “Come on, Tommy. It’s time to head home.”

“Okay,” the boy said, giving Gabriel yet another hug. “Had fun, Pastor Gabriel.”

“Me, too.”

The encounter left Gabriel smiling. Not two minutes ago he’d been standing here having a private pity party, only to have the reason for his being at Good Shepherd show itself moments later. It wasn’t about him. It was about spreading the Gospel and being a good shepherd.

“Okay, Lord,” he said with a chuckle after the two moved on. “I hear You.”

Later that night, before turning in, Susan looked in on Hannah and Sarah. Their distress still weighed heavily on her.

Proud of her six-year-olds for having the courage to tell her their fears, Susan at the same time felt a sense of remorse over the impact her life work seemed to have on them. It was one thing for an adult to worry about issues like domestic violence, abuse, poverty and homelessness, and another issue entirely for two otherwise healthy, happy and secure children to spend their days constantly on the lookout for trouble.

Susan thanked the Lord that they were too young to remember their father. If they ever asked—and she could frankly say she didn’t look forward to that possibility—she’d be honest with them.

For now, though, as far as the twins were concerned, Reggie Carter was merely a man they didn’t know who smiled at them from the pages of a photo album. Photographs were all Susan had left of their father to share with Hannah and Sarah. Everything of value that she and her husband once owned had been hocked, traded or sold to support his drug habit. He’d been an all-star on his high school track team, but even the mementos of that brief glory period disappeared after he died. Susan always suspected his mother of clearing out their apartment before Susan had a chance to save anything for her daughters.

Now, as she looked in on the twins—both sleeping peacefully in twin beds, their pink-and-purple bedroom a little girl’s haven of comfort and toys—Susan fretted about how they were growing up.

Granted, the home she’d made for them was comfortable, filled with books, plants and country crafts that Susan either bought or made. “Cozy and inviting” is how her friend Tina described it. But Susan and her girls lived on Galilee Avenue, right next to the shelter that claimed so much of Susan’s heart, soul and time. Right in the heart of the city’s most drug-and gang-infested blocks.

The women who resided at Galilee on a long-term basis all struggled. Some still lived in fear of the husbands, boyfriends or other family members who beat or threatened them and their children.

Was this any place to raise her own?

She’d negotiated into her compensation package the apartment located above the Galilee Foundation’s office.

Grateful for a home, Susan still wondered if maybe it was time to move away to one of the city’s better neighborhoods. She’d diligently saved money from the first opportunity she’d been given. Interest rates weren’t too bad. Maybe the time had come to start looking at homes. She had halfway decent credit, though the time with Reggie and the debt that he’d racked up and she wound up being responsible for would in all likelihood count against her.

She’d like to find a place where she wouldn’t have to worry if the girls played out front, someplace that had a backyard, room for a dog to run and maybe for Susan to plant a garden, some flowers and vegetables.

Unable to resist, she tiptoed into the room again and placed a kiss on each girl’s forehead.

“Thank You, Lord, for giving them to me,” she whispered. “Thank You for keeping them healthy.”

The prayer of thanksgiving, a frequent one, always crossed her heart and her lips when she gazed at her daughters. At the time of her pregnancy, Reggie had been using drugs a lot. She had worried for the entire nine months that he may have passed on something to her that she in turn might transmit to the babies. That hadn’t been the case, and Susan remained ever so grateful.

These children, her precious, precious gifts from God, brought joy to her each day. Susan didn’t know what she’d do if harm ever befell them.

That thought made her think of Jessica and her daughter Amy. “Thanks for bringing Amy back, too,” she added to the casual prayer.

With a final look at Hannah and Sarah, Susan slipped from the room and sought her own rest.

By Wednesday, her mind still on doing right by her girls, Susan decided to take a look through the real estate ads in the Colorado Springs Sentinel. A headline on the front page caught her attention before she could turn to the inside section. The mayor and police spokesman provided an update on the crime wave and the city’s effort to stamp out what one source in the story said were the signs of an organized crime group seemingly overnight claiming a chokehold on Colorado Springs. The mayor refuted that theory, though.

“That’s the problem,” Susan said, tapping the newspaper with her pen.

“Talking to yourself again, boss?”

Susan looked up to see Jessica standing in front of her desk, a Cheshire-cat smile on her face.

“No,” Susan said. “And what are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a few last-minute things before I leave.”

“You shouldn’t even be here today,” Susan said. “Your wedding is on Saturday. That’s just a few days away, you know.”

Jessica waved a hand. “With all I’ve been through, the wedding is going to be the easy part.”

It had been an incredibly stressful few weeks for Jessica. Recovering from surgery and dashing to New Mexico with Sam to reclaim her kidnapped daughter had just about done Jessica in. Now, however, all seemed right in her world. No one deserved happiness more than Jessica, Susan thought.

She came around her desk to give Jessica a hug. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride, and this time, the happily-ever-after will be for a lifetime.”

Jessica’s eyes misted as the two women hugged again. Then, seeming to pull herself together, Jessica picked up the newspaper. “This thing is turning the entire city upside down.”

Returning to her desk, Susan hit a few keys on her computer. “It’s also affecting us,” she said. “Our intake numbers are through the roof. If it keeps up like this, we’re going to have to find another building for long-term shelter.”

“Another building? But where? How? I’m scrambling as it is trying to bring new money in. And how in the world would we pay for something like that?”

Good questions, Susan thought. She’d been asking herself similar ones since they’d gone from accepting two or three women a month to that many each week. Not everyone needed long-term shelter, but even so, they were just about at capacity at Galilee.

“I don’t know,” Susan said. “The Lord always opens a window when He closes a door.”

“I’m expecting the auction to bring in about one hundred grand,” Jessica said, citing their optimistically high goal. “But that money, no matter what we get from the gala, is already earmarked for operating expenses and the emergency houses, not new capital outlay.”

Jessica wasn’t saying anything that Susan didn’t already know. “I’m working on a few leads,” Susan said. “If we can just get some more buy-in from a few key players, I think some of those closed doors will spring open.”

The director of development didn’t look too convinced, but Susan had other things on her mind. Like how to convince the pastor of Good Shepherd, the church closest to the shelter and therefore the one that should have the greatest interest in helping the neighborhood, to understand that he could be instrumental in turning things around.

Gabriel arrived promptly at nine forty-five for his ten o’clock appointment with Susan. He didn’t like admitting that he’d spent a great deal of the last two days thinking about her.

When he walked into the Galilee Women’s Shelter, though, he got the first surprise of the morning. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting, but the cheery reception area, with its ficus trees and spider plants, looked more like a well-appointed physician’s office than his image of a battered women’s shelter. After checking in with the receptionist, he took a seat and fingered the leaves on the ficus. Real. Not plastic.

Somehow that made a difference.

A quilt on the wall arrested his attention. He got up to take a closer look. The scene depicted on the fabric illustrated a door closing on a woman, but a window near her opening with light and sunshine pouring through. Women waited for her on the other side, hands extended in welcome. The window portion of the quilt featured light and vibrant-colored fabrics—golds, blues, reds—while the life the woman was leaving was depicted in dreary browns and dark streaky blues and grays.

The artist who’d created the piece had put a lot of time and effort into it.

Bible verses in a flowery script ringed the border of the quilt. Gabriel tilted his head to read the one on the left.

“It says, ‘Come unto me all ye that labor and are weary and I will give you rest.’”

He turned. Susan Carter stood there looking like sunshine on a cloudy day. A flowing gold pantsuit flattered her. He extended a hand in greeting.

“Good morning.”

“Prompt.”

“That’s the marine in me.”

Susan cocked her head. “I didn’t know you were a marine.”

He nodded. “Two tours.”

Susan filed that information away. It might come in handy somewhere down the road.

Gabriel faced the quilt. “This is phenomenal.”

“Thank you. We like it a lot. I thought we’d begin by giving you an overview of what it is we do here. I’ll show you around the business office here, then we’ll go next door to the shelter. Can I get you a cup of coffee to start?”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’d like that.”

Susan directed a comment to the receptionist. “We’ll be in my office, then walking through. I have my phone if anything comes up.”

Susan turned a smile on Gabriel. “Ready?”

He nodded. With another look at the quilt, Gabriel turned to follow her.

Just then, a woman burst through the front doors.

“Help me! Help me!” she screamed. “He’s got a gun!”