The Color Of Light. Emilie Richards
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it. But I’ll tell you what I think. I think she’s scared that when anybody in authority sees the way the family’s living, she might lose her kids.”
“Taking children away is nobody’s first response. Even when it ought to be.”
“She won’t believe that.”
“Damn you, woman.”
“When will you be here?”
“Give me fifteen minutes.”
Analiese hung up the phone and stared at her bookshelves. The awards she had won as a journalist sat in a recently dusted row. One seemed to stare back at her now, an Associated Press broadcast news award for a story she had done about crowding at a homeless shelter. She swallowed something too close to tears and took the stairs back up to the apartment. This time she let herself in.
“There’s a doctor on the way,” she told everyone but Belle, whose rattling cough filled the apartment from the bedroom, even with that door closed.
“We can’t pay much,” Man said. “But we’ll give him all we got.”
“He won’t take a cent, but, Man, you have to do whatever he asks you to. Please? If he says she has to go to the hospital, then we have to get her there, even if she doesn’t want to go. Nothing’s going to happen to anybody except that Belle’s going to get better.”
“They threatened to take Dougie and me away from Mama and Daddy,” Shiloh said, earning a glare from her father.
Analiese tilted her head in question.
“Shiloh didn’t want to go to school,” Man said.
“In Atlanta,” Shiloh said. “So we left.”
Analiese nodded. “And you didn’t want to go to school why?”
“I hated it.”
Analiese knew that was the most she would get. But she could imagine the scenario. New girl. Homeless girl at that. Old clothes. Smart mouth. Disaster in the making.
“Got it.” She realized she was biting her lip. “Well, this isn’t Atlanta. We’ll figure this out, but right now your mother has to be taken care of. No ifs, ands or buts. You see that, right?”
Shiloh gave a curt nod.
“Did you eat?”
“I had pie!” Dougie seemed unaware of the tension in the room. Analiese thought he had experienced so much in his short life that he probably thought this was normal.
“How about a bagel and fruit?” She got to her feet. “Man, there’s coffee in the bag. Did you see it?”
The Fowlers were just finishing their meal when somebody knocked. Analiese opened the door for Peter, who was carrying a medical bag.
He glared at her. “I gave up house calls a long time ago.”
“You only say you did. Now you call it visiting.”
“I’ve never been sure why we hired you.”
“Me either.” She stepped aside and introduced him. Soon after her arrival Belle’s coughing had eased, and Man said she’d fallen asleep. Now, however, it began once more.
“Let’s get moving,” Peter said. “Mr. Fowler, would you go in with me, please? And Reverend Ana?”
They left Shiloh and Dougie and went into the bedroom. Belle was sitting up, and she frowned at the invasion. Luckily she was too sick to make a fuss. The introductions were made, and ten minutes later they were back in the living room.
Peter addressed Man as he scribbled something on a piece of paper. “We’ll need a chest X-ray and blood work, and I’ll write the order. These people owe me a couple of favors, so go here and they’ll do it without charging you.” He handed Man the paper. “Once I know what’s up I can prescribe the right meds unless she has to go into the hospital. I don’t think it’s that bad yet, but it will be if you don’t get her on antibiotics right away. I have samples, so you don’t have to worry about paying for those either.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Reverend Ana, may I see you outside?”
Ana walked him to the door and then through it, closing it behind her.
“That woman can’t go anywhere until she’s better unless it’s the hospital. You understand what I’m saying? We send her out into this weather for anything more than lab work and she’ll be at serious risk. If she doesn’t have pneumonia, she’s on the verge, and I’m guessing she has other problems, too, maybe even diabetes, that have to be addressed, and quickly.”
“Would you like to explain that to the executive committee?”
“I’m going to let you do that. You got us into this mess.”
“What should I have done?”
He shook his head. “Don’t ask me for absolution. I give out antibiotics and bad news. I have my specialty. You have yours.”
She thanked him. He harrumphed and left.
She continued to stand there, surrounded by empty space with no purpose other than to collect dust and harbor mice. Then, steeling herself, she went back to tell Man and Shiloh she was going to do everything she could to keep them in this apartment until Belle was well enough to leave it.
* * *
The council executive committee was comprised of five members and Analiese. Normally the church had an associate pastor who was also a member, but since Analiese’s arrival three excellent associates had moved on to become senior pastors in their own churches. The year-long search for a replacement hadn’t yet resulted in a new candidate the search committee could agree on.
The search committee was almost as contentious as the small group sitting together at the table in the council room.
As always Analiese offered a prayer at the opening of the meeting, and as Garrett outlined the situation she examined the familiar faces, wondering who would be her ally.
She thought Garrett would be willing to host the Fowlers if it in no way interfered with the running of the church and the collecting of pledges. She was fairly certain he would need an attorney to weigh in on legalities, but the church was full of them, many who would sympathize with the Fowlers’ plight. She would make certain one of that group was contacted.
Betty McAllister, first vice president, was a septuagenarian active in social causes and known for alienating members who didn’t agree with her. Analiese thought that she would be a staunch ally.
Nora Pizarro, second vice president, was sleek, sixtyish, and conservative down to her bone marrow. The only good solution was tried-and-true, and if the church had never given shelter to a homeless family in its more than hundred-year history, then that would be enough evidence the idea was a bad one.
Their secretary, John Glinton, was newly elected, recently retired from a job in the aerospace industry in Houston, and a mystery.
At twenty-four the last member, their treasurer Carolina Cooper, was by far the youngest: vivacious, entertaining and astute. Unfortunately she was also absent.
“Analiese?” Garrett turned the conversation over to her.
“First, I appreciate you turning out on such short notice,” she began. Quickly she filled in the details that Garrett hadn’t had access to, for the most part her conversation with Peter.
She ended by telling them what Man had done as she was leaving the apartment. “These people are desperate. He tried to give me his wedding ring in payment for what we’ve already given them, a dusty apartment and Thanksgiving leftovers.”
She swallowed a lump that was threatening to form in her throat and composed herself. “These people don’t want to be here. They want to be in their own home, working at jobs to support their family. Man would still be happily earning