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The boy stepped forward. He was the only one of the four who didn’t seem to realize that this situation was both awkward and possibly dangerous for his family. “I’m Dougie. Are ladies ministers?”
“We certainly can be.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. She thought he might be younger than he looked. Physically he was more like his mother than his father, broad-shouldered and moonfaced. She could see a resemblance to his sister, but it was subtle.
“How long have you been in Asheville?” she asked Man.
“A while now.”
“Have you looked into some of the social services available? Because the city tries to find housing for people who need it.”
“We don’t fit their rules.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. She had just returned from a rally where she had spoken to a crowd about the need for more housing and help. Did she really need to be hit over the head?
“So you’ve tried. You’ve spoken to people who could help?”
“There’s no place for all of us,” Shiloh said. “You think we just sat around and hoped somebody would show up and buy us a house? Of course we tried!”
“You be nice, Shiloh,” Belle said. “You been taught to be nice.”
Analiese was quite certain Shiloh didn’t want to be nice. She could relate to that, having felt that way herself more than once today. And now, with the answer to this problem as clear as the answer to a prayer she hadn’t even prayed, she knew she would experience many moments in the immediate future when she didn’t want to be nice again.
A host of people were going to be unhappy with what she was about to do.
“I’m sorry, but I had to ask,” she said. “I know housing for families is hard to find.”
“We’ll pack up and go,” Man said. “We would appreciate it if you wouldn’t get the police involved.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Analiese said. “There’s an apartment upstairs on the third floor. Nobody’s living in it right now. You won’t be taking anything that belongs to anybody else, but it would be my pleasure to see it being used tonight. It’s warm and dry, and there are enough beds, I think, although you’ll need your sleeping bags, because I doubt we have sheets. Then if you’ll let me help, I’ll see if I can find somebody to help you get back on your feet.”
Man began to protest, but she held up her hand. “Please, it’s not charity. Everything’s already there just waiting for you. It won’t cost anybody anything, and your wife needs a good night’s sleep.”
“Analiese...” Ethan’s voice held a note of warning.
He was right to worry. She was going out on a limb here. She didn’t know these people, and she was inviting them to stay in the parish house without consulting a single church leader. The present council was the most contentious she had ever worked with and needed special handling, but she didn’t have time to track down the right people, wait while they secretly conversed about what a problem their minister could be, and then finally got around to calling her back with a list of rules she had to follow.
This family didn’t have time.
She smiled at Ethan. “Can you help the Fowlers bring their things up to the third floor? We can all carry something.”
“It’s nice of you and all...” Man’s voice trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the words to say no.
She took that as a yes. “Where are you parked? Why don’t you move your car next to mine?” She pointed to the staff parking area.
“Daddy, she wants to do this. Let her,” Shiloh said.
Man’s shoulders slumped, but he gave a slight nod.
Analiese had already suspected, but now she knew for certain where the power in this family lay. If she could get Shiloh on her side, she could make things happen. She turned her attention to the girl. “We had a church Thanksgiving dinner yesterday, and the leftovers went into the refrigerator. If I bring them up, will you heat them for your family? I know you ate, but who can resist leftover turkey sandwiches?”
Shiloh didn’t smile. She didn’t even look happy. She just shrugged. “We’ll see.”
* * *
The expansive third floor of the parish house was for the most part used for storage, although much of the space was empty. The apartment that Felipe and his family had inhabited had been carved out of it more than half a century ago as a way to save the church money. If the Church of the Covenant could offer housing as part of their employment package, that saved on salary.
After several years Felipe had balked and given notice so he could look for a job that didn’t include housing. With his children growing older the family needed a larger, homier place to live. The personnel committee had quickly offered a new deal, salary only, and the apartment had been vacant ever since.
In the intervening months discussions had ensued about what to do with the third floor. With Covenant Academy at their disposal on Sunday mornings, there was no need for more classrooms. The staff didn’t need storage; they needed to get rid of useless supplies and outdated equipment. The apartment needed rehabilitation before it could be used as a rental, and the location made rentals difficult anyway. Nothing had been decided.
With Ethan following her, Analiese preceded the Fowlers, who were taking down the tent. She unlocked the apartment door with one of her many keys and saw there was serious work to be done. “I didn’t think about the dust.”
“We can do a quick once-over,” he said. “It’s easy enough to wipe down surfaces and sweep the floor. The good news is that it’s not freezing up here.”
Heat had risen from the rooms downstairs, and she was guessing the temperature in the apartment was at least sixty. She crossed the living room and found the thermostat in the hallway beyond it. Sixty exactly. She turned the dial to seventy-two and heard the reassuring thump of the wall furnace in the living room.
“I can see why your sexton relocated,” Ethan said from the living room. “When was the last time anything was done to this place?”
“The usual repairs and inspections, but nothing more.” She peeked into each of the two small bedrooms on the other side of the hallway and was reassured to find beds, two singles in one, a double in the other, although the dressers were gone. There was also a sagging sofa and a chair in the living room, and a small round table with mismatched chairs in one corner for dining. None of this had been good enough to take along when Felipe and family moved.
“I’m turning on the refrigerator,” Ethan said. Then, after a pause, he said, “It’s clean enough inside, and it seems to be working.”
Analiese found an old towel under the bathroom sink and wet it down. Back in the living room she wiped the dust off the table and chairs. Ethan had already found a broom and was sweeping cobwebs into a pile.
The space was small, but over the years attempts had been made to maximize storage. A pantry off the kitchen held a variety of shelves. Beside that a cubbyhole had been carved out for a stacked washer and dryer that had also been left behind. Wide wall shelves had been installed to the left of where a television had been. Shelves had been added in each of the bedrooms, too, and after the table was clean and she’d rinsed her towel, she started on those in the living room.
Ethan had left the door into the apartment open, but there was a timid knock, and Analiese paused to greet Man, who was poised on the threshold, a sleeping bag under each arm.
“Come in, and welcome.” She smiled at him and pointed. “The bedrooms are through there.”
Man looked as if he wanted to say something, but Shiloh came up behind him with two more sleeping bags. “Mom needs help getting up the stairs, Daddy.”
Ethan emptied his dustpan into the kitchen garbage pail. “Ana, do you know where the hot water heater’s located?” She gave her best guess, and he followed Man out of the apartment to search for it.
“You don’t have to clean. We can do that,” Shiloh said.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said this apartment hasn’t been used in a long time. You don’t deserve to breathe in our dust. We’ll get the worst out quickly.”
“This has just been sitting here? With nobody living in it?”
Analiese heard everything behind the girl’s question. How unfair it was that Shiloh’s own family had been sleeping in a car—or so Analiese assumed—while this apartment stood empty. How magnificent the simple, dusty space seemed after having no place to go. How people weren’t even remotely created equal, no matter what the Declaration of Independence proclaimed.
She kept her answer brief. “A family lived here, but they moved into a house not too long ago.”
“It’s big.”
Analiese considered that. Big in the eye of this beholder. “You’ll be comfortable enough. Tomorrow we’ll talk about what you can do next.”
“I don’t want to think about that right now.”
Analiese understood. Shiloh wanted to enjoy the luxury of a private apartment while she could. “I didn’t have time to wipe down the bathrooms, so you’ll need to check, and maybe rinse out the sink and tub before you use them. Ethan will make sure the hot water heater is on, but you might need to wait twenty minutes or so to take showers.”
“We can use the shower?”
Analiese kept her voice light, although that was a struggle. “Use anything you find in here. It’s yours for the night.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
Analiese faced her. “I know you will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I think you’re good people who’ve fallen on hard times. But that doesn’t change who you are.”
“We had our own house. In Ohio. We had a vegetable garden and a dog, and Dougie and I both had our own rooms. Then the auto parts factory where Daddy always worked closed down.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how difficult this has been for all of you. How long have you been on the road?”
“We went to South Carolina where my aunt lives. She’s my mother’s sister. We stayed with her for...” She appeared to be counting in her head. “Eleven months. Maybe even a year. We’ve been on our own for maybe six months.”
“You’ve been on the road that long?”
“For a while we stayed outside Atlanta in an old camper. Daddy got a job packing boxes, but it was temporary, so we moved on.”
“Why did you come here? Do you have family nearby?”
“We heard there might be jobs. Maybe some kind of construction for Daddy, or working in a restaurant.”
Even in a town like Asheville, where visitors and residents seemed to make a point of being individual, Man would stand out, and not in a good way. Piercings and tattoos, ragged jeans or hipster hoodies, were one thing, but at first glance Man seemed to be someone whose last hope had ended, and whose energy had drained away with it. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and burrow deeper, and nobody would see that as an asset.
Analiese didn’t want to tell the girl that local construction had slowed until the economy could rebound, and that any service position Man would be able to get would not pay enough to support the family. As a matter of fact she wouldn’t be surprised if Shiloh had already figured that out.
She switched subjects. “It must have been hard for you and Dougie to go to school.”
Shiloh shrugged, and Analiese knew she had been right. She wondered when they had last seen the inside of a classroom.
Ethan came back. “It’s a good-sized heater, probably fifty gallons, and it looks fairly new. The water should get hot quickly.”
Shiloh scooted past him. “I’ve got to get more stuff.”
There was coughing from the stairwell, and in a moment Man returned, one arm around a pale and perspiring Belle. He led her to the sofa, and she collapsed, leaning forward with her hands on her knees.
Analiese could see that every time she tried to catch her breath, the coughing got worse. “She’s had the cough awhile?”
“It’ll ease in a minute. Too many years of smoking.”
This didn’t sound like a smoker’s chronic cough. This sounded like a woman struggling not to turn her lungs inside out. “Won’t the emergency room see you, even if you can’t pay?”
“She won’t go. Too many people poking around in our lives.”
Analiese realized that was something of a warning. If she poked too hard the family might just disappear.
Which would certainly resolve her upcoming battle with the council over taking them in.
Dougie and Shiloh arrived hauling battered suitcases that were so old they didn’t have wheels. Dougie’s was small but still a feat for a boy that young.
“How old are you, Dougie?” Analiese asked. “You’re a strong guy.”
“Guess.”
She smiled. “Maybe eleven?”
“Nine!” He did a little victory dance, then took off to examine every corner of their new quarters. While the rest of the family was exhausted, Dougie was clearly galvanized.
“You calm down now,” Man told his son, but with no enthusiasm.
“I’m going down to get the leftovers,” Analiese said. “I bet hauling everything up two flights of stairs worked up everybody’s appetites.”
“I can eat a horse!” Dougie shouted.
“I’ll help, Ana,” Ethan said.
They left together, Dougie’s exuberant shouts filling the apartment and still audible from the second floor landing. On the first floor she led Ethan to the kitchen, flipping lights as she went.
The room was as neat and well organized as a television test kitchen. The committee that oversaw potlucks and social hours was headed by a woman who had once run the cafeteria at a state penitentiary. Analiese opened the refrigerator and stared at all the neatly packaged and labeled leftovers.
“You’ll get in trouble for this.” There was no condemnation in Ethan’s voice.
“It’ll be nice to get into trouble for something that matters so much. Not the hymns I chose or the stoles I wear with my robe.”
“Or the design for the rose window.”
“Call me crazy, but I truly believe something other than a bearded European Jesus with a lamb on his lap would be more fitting for the twenty-first century.”
“They’ll see it your way eventually and come up with something everybody can live with. But this?” He shook his head. “Not so sure.”
She set out the leftovers as she spoke. “We’re all forced to take stands. It’s part of being human. This is just one night, and more people will understand than won’t.”
“Ana, are you deluding yourself?”
She knew what he meant, but she refused to acknowledge it. “No, I really think many people will support what we did here.”
“You know that’s not what I was asking.”
She took out the last of the leftovers and closed the refrigerator before she faced him. “You think they’ll be here more than one night.”
“I do.”
“It could be just one.”
