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.”
“I’m not a liar,” I returned defensively, which on its own was a lie.
Lilly snickered as if she had prior knowledge of every lie I’d ever said. Relaxing against the back of her chair, she looked me straight in the eye. “I think you should know, I sat in that chair myself at one time, full of bravado and attitude. My life was a mess. I was into drugs, alcohol, and bad men. I was going a hundred miles an hour on the road to self-destruction. I’ve been clean and sober for five years. If you’d told me that was even possible six years ago, I would have laughed in your face.”
Of everything I’d expected Lilly to say, it wasn’t that.
“This is your chance to make a change, Shay. Your one chance. We’re here to help make that a reality, but what happens next is on you. It’s all on you. If you want this, you have to be the one to make it happen. You think you’re smart enough to fool me, then think again. You think you’re smart, well, I’m smarter. You aren’t going to fool me, so don’t even bother trying.
“Whatever got you here, you’re at the center now and you have a choice to make. Choose carefully. You can change the course of self-destruction or you can continue on the same path. Now, what’s it going to be?”
Her words were hard, and her look cut into me as effectively as a knife with a serrated edge. She waited and I gulped. It was as if she had read my mind. It was difficult for me to admit that I needed this program, wanted this program. I’d failed at nearly everything I’d ever wanted in my life. Failed miserably. There was nothing to say this would be any different.
Even getting the words out of my mouth seemed unmanageable. “I want this.”
“That’s good to hear, a good start. Every woman who steps through that door wants a better life. I’m here to tell you that this isn’t going to be easy. You’re going to want to quit a hundred times, but if you do you’ll go right back to where you started.
“You can succeed, Shay, but you’ve got to be the one to make that happen. Not a single woman here can do it for you. It’s going to mean tearing down that wall, trusting others, opening your life and living in the truth, and that, my friend, leaves you naked and exposed.”
She waited, as if expecting me to tell her how grateful I was. Instead, I said the first thing that came to mind. “I am not your friend.”
Lilly grinned. “You might not realize it yet, but I’m the best friend you’ll ever have. Now, you ready to answer these questions?”
Although I didn’t dare say it aloud, I was determined that Lilly would never be my friend. I hadn’t known her more than a few minutes and already I didn’t like her. She was abrupt and callous, reminding me of a few prison guards I’d known. Righteous bitches.
Turning toward the computer screen, she set her fingers on the keyboard and threw questions at me, typing in my answers. She wanted honesty and she got it. I didn’t hold anything back. Before we were finished she knew more about my family background than anyone else in the world besides my brother.
I told her about Shooter, too, and the fact that he was sentenced to life. For that I was especially thankful, although I didn’t mention that.
After I finished the evaluation, I was given urine and blood tests. “You do know I was released from prison this morning, right?” It wasn’t like I’d had the chance to buy anything illegal.
Lilly laughed. “You want drugs and alcohol, you’ll find them inside and outside of prison walls. I don’t care if you stepped off the bus on your way out the door and walked straight into this building—you’d still be tested.”
“Okay.” What she said was true enough. Drugs were as accessible in prison as they were on the streets.
Once I’d finished with the urine test, Lilly said, “Do you have any questions for me?”
“How long does this program take?”
She shook her head. “You haven’t been accepted and you’re already wondering how soon you can leave. Not a good sign, sister.”
At some point I’d swapped from being a friend to becoming a sister. Wasn’t sure if I should read anything into that.
“Twelve months,” Lilly told me before I could comment.
“And afterward? What happens to me after I graduate?” I wasn’t sure “graduate” was the right word, but it seemed to fit best. A year was a long time, not that I had any other plans.
From everything I’d learned to this point, I was free to leave at any time. The program was structured with a variety of classes, counseling sessions, and work assignments. Everyone did their part to keep the center running smoothly.
“By the time you leave, if all goes well, you’ll have a job and housing arrangements.”
I felt the faint stirring of hope take root and sprout. I quickly squelched it down. Hope was dangerous for someone like me. It led to pain and disappointment. “I’ll be able to support myself?”
“Up to you, my friend.”
So I was no longer her sister. Demoted already.
Lilly led me to another part of the building and knocked before entering a second cubicle. A woman I would guess to be in her early fifties glanced up from her desk when we entered. “Brenda, meet Shay Benson. Shay, this is Brenda Jordan.”
“Hello, Shay.” Unlike Lilly, Brenda’s smile was warm and welcoming.
I nodded toward her, keeping my lips pressed together, unwilling to say anything more, seeing that I’d already spilled my guts once.
“Should you be accepted, Brenda will be your case manager,” Lilly explained. “She’ll be the one who will work with you as you progress in the program. If you’re able to follow through, remain in the truth, and be willing to do what’s necessary, then Brenda will be the one to help you with life outside these doors. You got a problem, you look to Brenda. You need to talk, and you will, then you come to me. Got it?”
“Got it,” I returned without emotion, although I wasn’t entirely sure I did. Lilly smiled and nodded.
It was the first time I’d seen the counselor crack a smile. “That’s a good start,” she said approvingly.
Lilly left me with Brenda. Sitting down with the case manager, I answered a few questions, some of which had already been asked by Lilly. About thirty minutes into our session, her phone rang. Brenda reached for it and after the initial greeting her eyes switched to me.
“Give us five” was all she said.
Sure enough, about five minutes later she stood and directed me to follow her. On the way I happened to get a look at the wall clock and was surprised to realize it was already late in the afternoon. The time had zipped by.
Brenda led me to the front reception area and I returned my visitor’s badge. When I turned around I saw Kevin Forester and Drew had joined us. Both were dressed in shorts and had towels looped around their necks. They looked like they’d just finished running a marathon.
Drew leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees as he sucked in oxygen. “You’re killing me, man.”
Kevin slapped him across the back. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Come on, Kev, I’ve got—”
“I’ll see you next week,” the other man said, cutting him off.
As if he didn’t have the wherewithal to argue, Drew reluctantly nodded. “Next week.”
“Same time as today.”
“Gotcha.”
“You don’t show, then I’m coming for you.”
“I said ‘gotcha.’ ”
Another slap on the back and Kevin said, “Good.” He looked to me then. “I’ve made arrangements at one of the women’s shelters for the next two nights,” he said.
I blinked, unsure if that meant I hadn’t been accepted or what. Then I remembered that either Drew or Lilly had told me that it would take a couple days to have the committee review my evaluation and get the urine and blood tests back.
“Okay.”
“I can drop you off at the shelter on my way back to the church,” Drew offered.
Nodding, I accepted the ride. I wanted to thank him, but the words got stuck in my throat.
The sense of hope was back again. Unwilling to trust it, I shoved it out of my mind. When I’d first arrived at Hope Center, I hadn’t known what to think, especially after meeting Lilly. Now, with everything within me I wanted this chance. I was smart enough to recognize I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help.
I followed Drew back to where he’d parked the car. Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for me. It wasn’t until he was in the driver’s seat that he spoke. “So, do you think Hope Center is going to work for you?”
The center had been adequately named, although I wasn’t about to tell him that. I shrugged. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“Good.” He leaned slightly forward, inserted the key, and started the car’s engine.
We rode in silence on the way to the shelter. “Will you be the one to tell me if I’m accepted into the program?” I asked.
“No, you’ll either hear from Kevin or from Lilly.”
“Okay.” So this was it. I probably would never see him again, which was fine.
We rode in silence for a few minutes more. Stopping at a red light, Drew kept his focus straight ahead. “It looks like I’ll be at the center once a week for the foreseeable future.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what that meant. Perhaps this was his way of telling me he’d be around and he’d have a chance to keep tabs on me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“You going to check on me?” I asked, somewhat defiantly, like that was the last thing I wanted or needed from him.
“No. I probably won’t see you again.”
“Sure. No reason you should.”
He glanced my way again. “I will if you like.” The offer seemed genuine.
I shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. The thing was, I sort of would like it if he did. Knowing he would be around and keeping up on my progress was incentive to do well.
“The church comes in to serve dinner here once a month,” he mentioned at the next red light.
“You do that?”
“Not me personally. A group of women from the church see to it. Introduce yourself.”
“Oh.” As if any of those church ladies would want to meet me.
“Linda Kincaid is the one who manages the program. You won’t have any trouble identifying her. She’s nearly six feet tall and has a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair.”
“Sure thing.” I did my best to hide my sarcasm. No way was I seeking out this other woman.
“You need anything, you let her know and she’ll tell me.”
Not happening.
Drew pulled up in front of the shelter. “Once inside the shelter, give the director your name. There’s a bed for you there for the next couple nights.”
I looked over and nodded a couple times. “Thank you,” I whispered, somehow getting out the words.
“I’m glad I could help,” he said.
And then to my complete surprise, Drew turned his head away from me as if he didn’t want me to read his expression. “You might think I was the one who helped you, but Shay, you’ll be surprised to know you were the answer to my prayer.”
Me? An answer to a prayer? Too stunned to react, I climbed out of the car wondering what he could possibly mean. I wasn’t given the chance to ask as he drove away, leaving me standing with my small suitcase on the side of the street.