Thinking about her hair made me want to cringe. My daughter wanted to keep her hair long, which was nothing but a hassle for me. I knew this desire was partly because of the picture Sarah had of her mother. Before all the cancer treatments Katie’d had long, thick, dark hair. This was Sarah’s way of being like her mother. Unfortunately, my daughter’s hair tangled easily and she hated having me brush it out. For all the crying and whimpering she did while I fussed with her hair, I was surprised I hadn’t been turned in to Child Protective Services for child abuse.

The weatherman stood in front of a map of western Washington and the entire half of the state showed cloud cover. Rain was forecasted for the remainder of the week, typical of winter in this part of the state. Naturally, my children wanted it to snow, but snowfall was rare in Seattle.

Even before the news finished airing, I felt myself drifting off. My day had been full, and it would be morning before I knew it.

Checking to make sure all the doors were locked and secure, I turned out the lights and headed to my bedroom. A half-hour later I crawled into bed and nestled against the pillow. Closing my eyes, I murmured my prayers. As always, Mark and Sarah were the first ones that came to mind. I asked for wisdom as their father, how best to guide and shape their young lives. I worried about fulfilling their needs, being a good father, and feared I overcompensated because they had lost their mother.

The church family was next. My concerns there were multiple. Our numbers were growing, not by leaps and bounds by any means, but there was a slow increase and that was encouraging. We’d gone back to mailing out the monthly newsletter. Funny how a little thing like that could make a difference.

Linda had headed up the Christmas program and the choir was practicing for the Christmas Eve service. I hoped to get the tree up and decorated following church Sunday afternoon.

As I was rounding out my prayers, Shay Benson popped into my mind. My thoughts came to an abrupt halt and my eyes opened. Seeing her in church on Sunday morning had boosted my spirits. Although I’d spoken to her only a few times over the last year, I’d kept tabs on her through Kevin.

Shay had fulfilled every requirement. According to Kevin, she’d made significant progress in the last few months. She had found employment at The Corner Café, which was situated about six blocks away from the church. With help from Hope Center, she would move into one of the tiny houses supplied to graduating residents in the transition phase. He’d told me she’d be allowed to live there for a year with minimal rent until she could afford a place on her own.

Kevin had warned me not to get my hopes up when it came to Shay. The real test would come once she left the center and mingled with the real world. He was optimistic, but he’d seen too many promising women return to their former lifestyles.

Kevin never lost heart, though. I wasn’t sure how he did it. His faith was strong; I wished I could be more like him, resilient and unwavering in his efforts, refusing to let the weight of discouragement keep him down.

I wanted to believe the life lessons Shay had learned at Hope Center had taken root. Kevin had assured me she would face more than one trial in her efforts to build a new life. The good news was that as long as she maintained a good support system, attended group meetings, and stayed out of trouble, she would do well. For her sake I prayed she would.

Graduation was the following weekend. I was pleased Shay had come to personally invite me. Remembering how quickly Sarah had taken to her brought a smile to my face. Having her join us for a meal had been a big move on my part. It was the first time since we’d lost Katie that I’d invited a single woman to our home. Not until after she left did I realize what I’d done, but I had no regrets.

We’d all enjoyed her company.

Even Mark.

I noticed my normally somber son had actually smiled a couple times as Shay and Sarah told me about choosing a new name for Shay.

Bunching up my pillow, I smiled into the darkness. I’d had a full day. It seemed I’d been on the run from the minute the alarm sounded until I placed my head back on the pillow. I should be exhausted.

I was exhausted.

At the same time, I was smiling, thinking about Shay.

And feeling pleased that I’d be seeing her again soon.

The Thursday before graduation was the Bring-a-Meal night. As soon as I stepped into the cafeteria I realized the volunteer group serving was from Seattle Calvary, Drew’s church. The woman he’d mentioned several times, Linda Kincaid, was busy supervising a group of servers.

After I’d eaten I built up my confidence enough to seek her out. Cleanup was going on around me when I approached her. “You’re Linda Kincaid, aren’t you?” I said.

She turned and looked for the source of the voice until her gaze caught mine.

“Yes.” While her words were clipped, her eyes were friendly. “Have we met?”

“No…not formally. Drew…Pastor Douglas suggested I introduce myself.” I needed to remember not to use his given name, although that was the way I thought of him.

“You attend Seattle Calvary?”

“No…well, I did last Sunday, but that was the first time.”

We were interrupted when one of the volunteers asked Linda a question. “Put it in the van,” she instructed. She reached inside her pocket and handed the other woman a set of keys before returning her attention to me.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying again?”

“Nothing, really. I wanted to meet you. Drew…sorry, Pastor Douglas, has mentioned your name several times. He told me how much he relies on you.”

“He’s a good man and I’m happy to help him,” Linda said. “He’s carrying a heavy load.”

“He is,” I agreed. “Does he ever come to one of the BAM nights?” He hadn’t in the year that I’d been at Hope Center.

A touch of sadness flirted in and out of Linda’s eyes. “He routinely did, but that was before his wife got so sick. Now he feels it’s more important to have dinner with his children. Why do you ask?”

I looked down at my feet, wondering how much I should say, if anything. “He’s a good cook.” I quickly amended that. “Perhaps I should say his Crock-Pot skills are finely tuned.”

Her mouth opened and closed as though she wasn’t sure what to say. “He’s cooked for you?”

It was then that I realized I’d said too much. I hadn’t meant to imply anything, but it was clear from her shock that she’d read more into my words.

“It wasn’t like a date or anything,” I hurried to explain. “Pastor Douglas invited me to the house…he called it a parsonage, after church last Sunday.” I hesitated before adding that I’d invited Drew to attend my graduation from Hope Center.

“That was kind of him,” Linda said.

Uneasy now, I studied the other woman. “I hope I didn’t speak out of turn.”

“You didn’t,” Linda assured me. “I’m pleased to meet you, Shay.”

“I’m sorry now that I didn’t introduce myself sooner.” I’d been intimidated…no, that was too strong a word. Hesitant maybe, daunted. Perhaps it was because she was the epitome of a good Christian woman who gave unselfishly to others. And maybe, again, it was because she towered over me. But then I suspected I wasn’t the first person taken aback by her dominating presence.

We chatted a few minutes longer, the conversation friendly and light. She learned that I would be graduating that Saturday.

“I’m working as a server at The Corner Café,” I told her.

“Lloyd and I stop by there for lunch every now and again. We’ll come by one day next week.”

“That would be great.” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face, pleased with how well our conversation had gone.

All told, we didn’t spend more than ten minutes chatting. When she left, I felt like I’d made a friend. Those were few and far between. Yes, I’d bonded with several of the women at Hope Center and those ties were strong. Linda, however, was a friend in the real world and I had shockingly few of those.

—

Saturday morning, a volunteer hairdresser arrived to help each of us get ready for the graduation ceremony. My hair had grown in the last year and I was more than ready for a trim. It reached just past my shoulders. I got French braids on both sides, and then pulled them up and attached them at the crown of my head.