apartment for two weeks while Reverend Ana, who brought this problem to our doorstep, looks for a better situation for them and for us. Of course if they cause any problems, they will have to go immediately.”
Garrett reminded the committee that the next full council meeting was in two weeks, so John’s motion would take them to that point. He called for a vote. Analiese, who was a voting member of the committee, added her voice to the yeas.
Nora was the lone nay. “And what do we do if they’re still here in two weeks?” she demanded.
“We’ll put you in charge of evicting them,” Betty said.
Garrett held up his hand again. “Let’s not even think about that, okay? Not yet. The council will want to know what happened here, and I’m hoping we can present a united front.”
“You don’t always get what you hope for,” Nora said, getting gracefully to her feet. She was the first to leave.
Analiese stood, too. “Thank you for a good discussion and a good solution.”
After the others left Garrett remained. He was a tall man, and although she was five foot seven, she had to look up at him when he spoke. “I think it’s imperative you find another place for these people, Ana. It won’t go this well if we have to vote again. John was sitting on the fence, and the full council is less adaptable than we are.”
“And you?”
He shrugged.
She had guessed as much. “I can’t make promises. Resources in Buncombe County, like everywhere, are stretched too thin.”
“I know how busy you are, but you’re going to have to work hard at this. Find somebody to help you.”
After he left she straightened the chairs around the table and wondered if a male minister would have noticed that the chairs were in disarray. For that matter would her male colleagues have stood up to the committee and insisted that they not set a time limit on charity?
The best question: Would her male colleagues—or her female ones—have gotten into this situation in the first place?
Of course she could never know where anybody else would have stood today. But despite everything else, she did feel that a man who had died on a cross thousands of years before had been standing right beside her.
SHILOH HAD NEVER met a lady minister, and she was sure she would remember if she had met one who looked like Reverend Ana. Today she was wearing a dark skirt with a bright green shirt hanging loose over it and a pretty circular flowered scarf looped around her neck. Shiloh never worried much about what she would look like when she was an adult—there were too many other things to worry about—but for just a moment, as she opened the door to Analiese, she was sorry she was never going to look like that.
“Are your parents here?” Analiese asked.
“Daddy took Mama to get those tests about an hour ago.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “But we’re all packed, and we’ll leave just as soon as she gets her medicine. I’m sorry if we stayed too long.”
“Not long enough. I just met with the committee in charge of these things, and we’d like you to stay another two weeks while we help you find a more permanent place.”
Even if she did pray for it each night Shiloh knew better than to believe anything good would ever happen to the Fowlers. But for a moment she felt just a sliver of something like hope.
“Why?” From experience, she knew this was the question most suited for putting hope back in its place.
“Because this is a church, and even if we don’t always remember why we exist, we did remember today.”
Shiloh was puzzled and her expression must have showed it, because Analiese smiled. “In other words because we can help and we want to.”
“Why? What will you get?”
The smile softened. “Sometimes people do things just because they’re right. Your family’s having a hard time. The church is able to help.”
“Most of the time people do things because they get something out of it.”
“Like feeling good about life? Like knowing that they’re making a difference in the world?”
“Like driving to the food bank in a fancy car and doling out dented tuna cans, and then telling you you’re selfish if you ask for more than one. Even if there are plenty.”
“I think with all you’ve been through it must be hard to see how many good people there are, and how many of them are genuinely concerned.”
Shiloh knew better than to argue. Whatever the reason, her family had a roof over their heads for the next two weeks. It might be a mini-miracle, but it was a miracle nonetheless.
“Where’s Dougie?” Analiese asked.
“In the bedroom. I’m making him do his schoolwork.” She realized Analiese was still waiting to be invited in, and she stepped aside and motioned.
“What kind of schoolwork? Do you have textbooks?”
Shiloh had to laugh at that. “Where would we get textbooks? Where would we keep them?”
“What’s he doing then?”
“I make up math puzzles, and I make him keep a journal, and I go over it and correct his grammar and spelling if I need to, and we talk about it.”
“You said you didn’t like school in Atlanta. What about Dougie?”
“He was always in trouble. He can’t sit still.”
Analiese nodded, as if that made sense when, of course, it didn’t.
Shiloh changed the subject. “If we stay, may we use the stove and cook?”
“Absolutely. I didn’t get as far as cleaning the inside of the cabinets. Are there pans?”
Shiloh had checked every corner of the apartment. “A few.”
“May I look?”
“It’s yours, isn’t it?”
Analiese didn’t answer. She crossed the room and peeked inside the cabinets. “I bet you couldn’t even heat the leftovers I brought up last night.”
“It didn’t matter.”
“We’ll get you more, and linens and towels. Dishes. Silverware.”
“We have things in our car we can use.”
“Why don’t you leave them packed for now and we’ll see what I can rustle up today?”
“There’s a washer and dryer.”
“I don’t know if they’re still functional.
