Uh-oh
. She hadn’t even thought about telling him. “Yeah,” she said, eyes focused on a breadstick. “Yeah, they’ll go nuts. Girls always love babies.”
“You know,” Rick said after a few minutes. “Your job is going to be really hard to do when you’re pregnant.”
She sighed. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about that today. I’m sure it’s just from the emotional up-and-down I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, but man, I was exhausted by the end of my last appointment. I couldn’t wait to get home. I took the bus—did I tell you that? I think I’m going to have to, at least in the evenings. I can probably manage the walk there okay. It’ll be good exercise.”
“I don’t know, Kim—I’m not sure you should keep working.”
She laughed. “What? Rick, I have to work.”
“No you don’t.”
“What do you mean, no I don’t? How am I going to pay my share of the rent and bills?”
“Well…you don’t have to.”
She scoffed. “Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious. We’re engaged, and frankly, as good as married—the only difference a wedding is going to make is that we’ll have a piece of paper to prove it. And a husband should provide for his wife, right? What kind of man would I be if I made my wife work while she was pregnant when she really didn’t have to?”
“But you don’t ‘make’ me—I like what I do.”
He waved a hand impatiently. “I know, I know, but that’s not the point. The point is that you’re already tired after only half a day of working, and you’ve got a long way to go. It’s going to get a lot worse. And it could be bad for the baby, couldn’t it, for you to be on your feet all day?”
She frowned. “Oh—maybe. I don’t really know. I guess it could be.”
“Yeah,” Rick said, shaking his head. “I really think you need to just stay home. The expenses for two people aren’t all that much more than they are for one—more water and food, mainly, and if we started planning our meals more carefully we could save some money there.”
“So, you really think I should just quit?”
“The sooner the better. Think how much better you’ll feel, being able to sleep in, not being on your feet all day.”
She gave him a half-smile. “That does sound nice.”
He smiled. “See? I really think this is for the best. And don’t worry about the money, Kim. We’ll make it work, I promise.”
Kim tried to keep her spirits up through the rest of the meal, but the thought of leaving the salon made her heart ache. She loved the women there. She’d been there for years now, and had built up such a loyal client base—how would she tell people like Mrs. Toll that she was leaving?
No negativity for the baby!
She spooned another bite of tiramisu into her mouth and shook off her gloom.
Time to focus on the positive, like how lucky I am to have a fiancé who wants so much to protect me and provide for his family. Just like a good husband and father should.
She couldn’t get over how much better off this baby would be than its parents. All the bad family history stopped with them. This baby would heal them.
T
HE FOLLOWING DAY WAS A
rough one at the salon. She broke the news that she was leaving, and the girls all begged her to reconsider. Even Suzie, the only one of them who had ever been pregnant, promised it wasn’t as bad as Kim thought it might be, and reminded her that she could just reduce her hours and keep making a little money.
“I’m touched that you’re all so sad that I’m leaving,” she said. “But really, I think this is for the best. And Rick needs to see that he can support his family. It’s important to him, and because of that, it’s important to me too. We’re both feeling our way through this, trying to do what’s best for us and for the baby, and we don’t have a lot of experience to go on because our families were so absent from our lives. He needs to prove to himself that he’s not his father, and I need to prove to myself that I’m not my mom—that I can devote myself to my man, and my child, and not freak out from the responsibility.” This last bit came to her as she was talking, and she had to admit it made sense. Plus it sounded a lot better than, “Rick really wants me to quit, so I’m quitting.” That argument made sense to her, but she knew it wouldn’t make sense to them.
“But how are you going to save enough for your mobile salon?” Rumiko asked as they dined on sandwiches at lunchtime.
Kim wasn’t about to admit the idea had been shelved long ago. “The possibility of that is so far down the road now—I’ll figure something out eventually. This baby needs a mama—no daycare for us! Maybe when she’s in school I’ll start working again.” Yet another lie added to the pile. Her aptitude for storytelling was beginning to bother her.
Between appointments Kim went through the schedule and wrote down all her regular clients and their phone numbers. She wanted to cancel them personally, and recommend one of the other girls to them based on their personality and the kind of treatment their hair required. She knew how attached women—and even men—could get to a hairdresser. Stylists played confidante, counselor, and pal, sometimes all in one appointment, and clients trusted you with something intimate and personal that could not always be easily fixed if you botched it. She hoped their concerns of working with someone new would be alleviated, or at least lessened, if they knew Kim had personally considered their needs and the strengths of the other stylists at the salon.
Despite how her back ached, Kim walked home that evening, taking in the landmarks and scenes that had become familiar over the last couple months. She decided as she strolled that she would go back to the salon and visit at least once a week—she’d go crazy alone in the house all day long, and she missed her friends already. Not that it would be quite the same—she wasn’t going to sit there for the entire day and make conversation in bits and pieces between the girls’ clients. But it would be better than not seeing them at all.
She still hadn’t figured out what to do about her Club girls. She knew she had to tell them soon, though—who knew how long she’d be able to hide the pregnancy? But she had a lot to explain, and she feared she would turn out to be another bad example for them to follow. Not that it
was
a bad example—it just looked like one from the outside. She sighed. It was so difficult being in a complex relationship.
When the parking lot came into view, she saw the man she’d met a couple weeks ago. He was getting his daughter out of the car—she smiled at the girl’s gorgeous ringlets, and at the sight of a father and his little girl.
Maybe someday that will be Rick.
Though it was hard to imagine him with a girl. A rough and tumble boy might be more his speed.
The little girl took off running once he set her down. She headed for the maples, rounded one of them, then came back, slamming into her father. They both laughed and he bent to say something to her. She took off running again. When Kim got closer she could her him counting. “…Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve—c’mon, Mad-die! Almost there!—fourteen, fifteen…” Maddie slammed into him again and he cheered. “Sixteen seconds! Man, you’re getting fast. That was almost a record.” He saw Kim and smiled. She smiled back, and the little girl looked to her and stepped behind her father.
“Oh Maddie, you remember Miss…Kim, wasn’t it?”
Kim smiled and gave a little wave to Maddie. “Yeah. Hi there.”
“You remember Miss Kim. She’s the one that cuts hair. We met her right after we moved in.” He looked back to Kim. “I see you walking a lot. Let me know if you ever need a ride. I don’t go right past your salon, but I get pretty close.”
“That’s really sweet, thanks. But today was my last day.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright. I quit. I didn’t get fired.”
He chuckled. “Oh, good. I was feeling really bad for you for a minute there. Moving to a new salon?”
She beamed. “No, I’m pregnant.”
“Hey, congratulations! Yeah, I’ll bet all that standing would take its toll after a while. When are you due?”
“Not until January, but I’m already pretty tired these days.”
He nodded. “Yes, I remember when my wife was pregnant with Maddie. She would take two naps a day and still sleep nine solid hours at night.”
Kim laughed. “Well, I’m not that bad yet. But at least I can take the naps now if I need them.” She looked back towards Joshua’s patio. “I haven’t met your wife yet, have I?”
“Ah, no—she’s not here; she passed away last year.”
Kim’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my goodness, I’m
so
sorry.”
His smile was kind. “Don’t feel bad, you couldn’t have known.” He mussed Maddie’s curls and smiled. “We’re getting along alright though, right kiddo? She met the kids down the hall—the Jiminez family. Do you know them? They’re really nice people. The kids are real sweet.”
From the corner of her eye, Kim saw Rick’s car pull into the lot. “I haven’t met them yet, but I’ve seen them and their kids.” She waved to Rick as he got out of the car. “It’s cute how they all play out here together.”
“I hope the noise doesn’t bother you,” Joshua said. “I know they end up right in front of your place too.”
“Oh, it doesn’t bother us at all. We’re gone most of the day anyway. Though I guess I’ll be home now, but I don’t mind the noise.” She nodded to Rick, who was coming up the walk. “Joshua—it’s Joshua, right? This is my fiancé, Rick.”
Joshua stuck out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you Rick. Joshua Miller. We’re your neighbors in #4.”
Rick shook Joshua’s hand, and Kim felt a niggling fear in the back of her neck at the look in Rick’s eyes. What had she done wrong now? “You just getting home?” Rick asked Kim.
“Yes. I stayed a little later to clean out my station and say good-bye to people.”
Rick nodded, then turned back to Joshua. “So how are you guys liking the place?”
“It’s nice—an adjustment, but so far it’s been good. I was just telling Kim about the family down the hall with all the kids and how much Maddie likes them.” He pointed behind him to Maddie, who was chewing the end of a lock of hair and gazing out at nothing as she leaned against her father. “Maddie, can you say hi to Mr. Rick?” She looked at him briefly, then ducked away. Joshua chuckled. “She’s four—and if that doesn’t mean anything to you now, it will someday, I hear.” He smiled. “Fatherhood is amazing. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.”
Rick smiled. “I’m sure I will. We’re pretty excited.” He wrapped an arm around Kim’s shoulder and squeezed. She felt his fingers digging into her arm and tried not to wince. “We should get in and get some dinner. Nice to finally meet you.”
“You too. Congratulations again.”
Rick turned Kim with him and walked her to the security door. He didn’t say a word as they walked down the hall. Fingers of anxiety clawed at her stomach. Usually she knew what had set him off, but this time she had no clue.
Rick slammed the door behind them, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her to the bedroom. “How long were you out there with him?”
“Just a few minutes! They got home just as I did.”
“Don’t let me catch you talking to him again, do you understand me? I saw the way he was looking at you.”
Kim’s jaw dropped. “What? No, no Rick, you misread him, he was just being friendly!”
“Is that what you call your behavior too? Just being friendly?” He slapped her cheek. “If I hadn’t gotten home you’d have been in his bed by now, you filthy whore.” He raised his arm to slap her again and she raised up her hands in defense. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and he wrenched her onto the bed. “That’s not even my baby, is it? Whose is it? Is it his?”
He drew his fist back and she shrieked. “It’s yours! I swear to God it’s yours!” She curled inward. “Don’t hurt the baby, Rick, please! Hit me all you want, just don’t hurt the baby!”
His blows fell like rain, and she tried to cry as quietly as she could. She couldn’t risk Joshua hearing her. The part of her brain that was detached from it all, the part that was able to think about grocery lists and conversations from earlier in the day while Rick meted out her discipline, noted that he had been wise to bring her into the bedroom instead of staying in the living room.
When he was done he left her alone in the bedroom, and she shook with pain and silenced sobs and fear. Blood from her nose stained the bedspread. Pain shot through her body from a dozen different places. But as she unfurled herself, gasping and wincing, she felt nothing but relief. The baby was still safe.
Joshua paused, frowning. There it was again. The last time he’d heard it he’d thought it was his imagination, or the children outside. But this time he was sure the shriek he heard was next door.
The skin on his neck prickled. He’d gotten a bad vibe when Rick and Kim had left. Something about the look in Rick’s eyes gave him a check in his spirit. He’d acted friendly enough, though he’d made it clear he didn’t want to sit around talking for long. When the security door closed after them Maddie had finally come out from behind him, saying, “I don’t like that man.” Joshua had almost admonished her for such an uncharitable comment about someone she barely knew, but then he remembered something Lara had said once about never ignoring a child’s instinct. “I know what you mean,” he’d said instead.
He knew, he just knew, it was Kim he’d heard and that Rick had hit her. His stomach clenched and he forced himself to leave the bedroom and go back into the living room where he turned on the television. He saw Maddie on the floor, coloring in a notebook, and made a note to keep her from his bedroom whenever possible.
He set about making dinner, but his thoughts kept returning to his neighbors.
What am I thinking, ‘just keep Maddie from the bedroom’? She sleeps in there. And shouldn’t you
do
something about it? You’re not just going to let him do that to her, are you?
His thoughts were so far from his task he fumbled the vegetable peeler three times.
What should I do God? That poor woman—and pregnant! Though not for long if her fiancé keeps that up. Oh, God, what should I do?
Maddie’s voice snapped him from his prayer. “Daddy, what’s for dinner?”
He took a deep breath, refocused his attention on the vegetables in front of him. The thought of eating fifty feet from the source of the shrieking made him ill. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to cook. Let’s go out.”
When Joshua and Maddie returned from dinner, the hallway and apartment were silent. He opened the door and made a beeline for the bedroom to check for neighbor noise, but even an ear to the wall revealed nothing. His eyes fell on Maddie’s bed and he frowned.
I need to get her sleeping in her own room.
During her bath, Joshua broached the subject. “So what do you think of moving your bed into your bedroom tonight?”
Maddie shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I like sleeping in your room.”
He smiled. “I like it, too, but that awesome pink room is just going to waste.”
“No it’s not. I play in there all the time.”
True
. “Well, regardless, we need to move you back in there pretty soon, okay sweetie?”
She sighed, swirling the water with a small rubber cow. “But I don’t want to. I’m afraid of it.”
Joshua thought. “Well, how about if I slept in there with you a few times?”
Maddie grinned. “You can’t fit in my bed! You’re too long!”
“That’s right,” he said, laughing, “but I
could
sleep on the floor.”
“Like camping out?”
“Sure.”
“Could I camp out too?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
She slapped at the water. “Can we build a fort?”
“Um—”
“And roast marshmallows!”
“Not in your room, no. No fires allowed.”
“But we
can
build a fort?”
He sighed. “Sure. Why not.” He figured he could get used to the pink. He hadn’t been looking forward to sleeping in his room tonight anyway.
But that evening as he read books to Maddie under blankets draped over chairs, he felt the urge to be in the bedroom, listening, as though his presence would prevent it from happening again.
And the next time it did happen, what would he do? Could he bring himself to ignore it? Ignore the way his skin crawled and his adrenaline surged, the way her cry pierced his ears from four rooms over? No, he had to do something. His conscience would never let him be if he sat by and did nothing.
But what
could
he do? Pound on the wall? Break their door down and demand that Rick stop? He didn’t look like a big guy, but who knew what he was capable of when provoked?
I just need to call the police.
Though Rick would know who did it—who else would hear them? The walls might be thin, but the ceilings seemed to be pretty solid; Joshua had never heard the people in the unit above them. And if he
did
call the police, and by some weird coincidence his in-laws heard about it, then it would just be more fuel to the fire. They already thought the neighborhood was sketchy. Knowing them, they were checking the police blotter for activity in his area.
But what if Maddie heard them and told George and Alisha herself? Or what if he tried to get involved and Rick went after
him
? There were a number of ways that scenario could end, and all of them ended with Maddie living with George and Alisha, at least for a time. And in his mind, any time with them was too much.
He felt like a coward not doing anything. But he had a child to think of too—this wasn’t just about his personal safety. Maybe he’d just wait and see. The next time he ran into Kim, he’d look closely for bruises, and if he felt like the time was right, he’d ask if there was something he could do.
He just couldn’t take any risks right now. He couldn’t do anything to jeopardize Maddie.
D
EBBIE WAS HOLDING ON TO
the frayed end of her rope with a death grip, but it didn’t seem to matter. The shelter was falling apart at the seams. They were down to a near-skeleton crew for a staff, and with her in charge of the ledgers she had a feeling she was practically throwing money away. Somehow the place was still running, and she credited that to the dedication of the people she worked with—and God sparing them from too many new admissions.
That, however, broke her heart. There were scores of women who needed a place like Safe in His Arms—but the shelter wasn’t equipped to help them right now. She prayed God simply diverted them to another shelter, or to a friend or a family member or
someone
who would help them get untangled from their abuser. The thought that they might be stuck and suffering kept her up at night.
She had done everything she could—taken on more hours, more responsibilities, and even taken a pay cut to make the books balance. She hadn’t told anyone yet that their finances were barely hovering above the red. She couldn’t put that on her staff on top of everything else. But now, tonight, as she looked over the budget for the tenth time, she realized she might as well tell them. That way it wouldn’t come as a complete surprise when they had to close.
A drop of strawberry ice cream plopped onto the table beside her laptop. She sighed and wiped it up. “That would be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it—gumming up your computer with ice cream?” She disgusted herself sometimes—a lot more lately than usual. She’d consumed her weight in desserts in the last month and it showed. It was the only outlet she could find to deal with the strain she was feeling.
At their weekly staff meeting she decided it was time to let them know that their need was desperate. Maybe God would hear their prayers—he’d apparently stopped listening to hers.
“Debbie—why didn’t you tell us before that things were this bad?”
The others murmured in agreement with Paula. Debbie sighed. “Because you were all working so hard already. I didn’t want to burden you with it. I’m the director, it’s
my
job to worry about the shelter, not yours.”
“Okay. So—it’s money that’s the problem, so we need to brainstorm some fund-raising ideas and figure out where we can cut costs, right?”
“Well…yes, that is part of the problem. But only part. We have three positions unfilled right now, and that’s killing us, too—especially the accounting position. I am
not
the one who should be handling the accounts and the budget, but it wouldn’t be proper for any of you to do it, either. We need to get that position filled as quickly as possible.”
Paula frowned. “So that guy didn’t work out?”
Debbie looked to her, confused. “What guy?”
“The guy you said you were going to call, like, back in May.”
Debbie felt like an amnesia patient. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t? You said you’d talked to some guy who was going to send in a resume. He worked at, like, a restaurant or something. I think it was the day you went to the hospital to visit Marisol.”
The light bulb went on. Debbie smacked her forehead. “I can’t believe it. I
cannot
believe I’m that much of a moron. The water heater broke while I was gone, and when I got back I was so wrapped up in all that I completely forgot about him.”
“Well, did he send in his resume? You would have seen it if he had, right?”
“I would have, you’re right.” She frowned, thinking.
Paula shrugged. “Maybe he changed his mind.”
“I doubt it—he seemed pretty eager to get out of the deli and back into accounting.”
“Maybe something else came along.”
Debbie sighed. “Maybe. Man, that’s so frustrating.”
“Maybe you should call a temp agency.”
She propped her head in her hands. “You’re right, you’re right.” She heaved a sigh. “Alright kids. Time for some serious prayer. I’ll call a staffing place and see if we can get at least a couple of the positions taken care of, and we just need to pray that God brings the right people here and that we get the money we need to continue operations.”
Shawnee placed a hand on Debbie’s arm. “And then I think you need to go home.”
Debbie laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Tammy, one of the counselors, arched her brows. “When was the last time you
didn’t
come in to work?” Debbie tried to answer but couldn’t remember. “I thought so. You need a mental health day, bad. Let’s pray, and then the lot of us are going to bodily remove you if you don’t remove yourself.”
They were true to their word. She was escorted to her office to pick up her laptop and purse, then directed to her car. They were right to make her leave, and she knew it, but the thought of all that needed doing made her antsy.
She was halfway out of her parking spot when an idea came to her. “Please, God, let him be there,” she prayed as she pulled out into the street.
By the time she reached Zelman’s Deli, she was shaky with hunger and nerves. She walked in and her heart sank—she didn’t see him behind the counter.
Maybe it’s just his day off
. She shot another prayer to heaven as she got in line.
“Next!”
Debbie stepped up. “Turkey and avocado on wheat—and is there a manager I could speak to?”
The sandwich maker pulled a loaf of wheat bread from the basket behind her. “Sure. Hey Lori, customer wants to talk to you,” she called towards an open door at the end of the shop.
“I’ve got a sort of weird question for you,” Debbie said to the woman that emerged. “I was here back at the end of May, and I got to talking to one of your employees. He told me he had been an accountant—”
“Oh, yes, Joshua.”
Debbie’s heart thunked. “So you know who I’m taking about?”
“Oh sure, about this tall, brown hair, late thirties?”
“Yes! Is he working today?”
“No, he doesn’t work here anymore.”
Debbie’s heart flopped. “Oh no. Do you have a way of getting in touch with him?”
“Sure, I have his contact information—but I’m sure you understand why I can’t just give that out.”
“Of course, of course—but if I gave you
my
information, would you be willing to pass it along?”
The woman shrugged. “Sure.”
Debbie pulled a business card from her wallet. “Remind him that we talked back in May, that he said he was going to send me a resume. Tell him to call even if he ended up with another job.”
Please let it work out with this guy
, she prayed as she ate. A bubble of hope floated through her chest, but she tried not to think too much about it. No point getting excited over it—she’d learned the hard way that men had a way of letting you down. She never thought she’d think it, but God was starting to fall into that category too.
Here’s your chance to prove yourself, God. I have no right to ask you to validate yourself to me, but I’m asking anyway. You know how badly I need you right now. Show me I can trust you.
Guilt spread through her at the prideful thoughts. She apologized as she finished her sandwich and headed home.
Now she
really
needed that ice cream.
J
OSHUA HUNG UP THE PHONE
and stared at the note he’d dictated from his voicemail.
Is this finally it, God?
He picked up the phone again, trying not to get his hopes up, and called the number he’d written down.
The phone was answered. “This is Debbie.”
“Hi, Debbie, my name is Joshua Miller. I just got a call from my old manager at Zelman’s Deli, saying you were in looking for me today—”
“Oh, yes! Hi! I’m so glad you called. I hope you’ll forgive me for tracking you down like that, but I really felt like I needed to try to find you and just be sure you didn’t want the job.”
Joshua frowned. “Wait—what makes you think I don’t want it?”
“Well, I never got your resume.”
“You’re kidding! But I sent it the day we spoke!”
She laughed. “Oh man, the post office did us wrong. So does that mean you
are
interested?”
“Seriously? The position is still open?”
“Not only is it still open, we’re in desperate need because I’ve been the one in charge of the books, and I don’t know what I’m doing at all.”
Joshua gripped the phone tighter, fighting the urge to jump on the table and shout. “Name the time and place for the interview and I’ll be there.”
“Well, not to sound too desperate, but how about the Java Stop on Fifth and Park in half an hour?”
His mind raced. What would he do with Maddie? “I can do that,” he said, still thinking. “I may have to bring my daughter, but I think I can keep her occupied long enough for us to talk.”