Home Fires Read online

  “It’s never too soon to love,” Joe said.

  Crotchety old Joe. Cyndi wasn’t the only one who’d changed lately.

  “She can learn a lot from you guys and from your guests, especially that old woman with the imaginary pet monkey.”

  “Can we trust her?” Cyndi asked. What she really meant was “Can I trust myself with her?”

  Joe said, “You’ve been great at loving the people who are different from you. Sometimes it’s harder to love the person who is like you.”

  Cyndi cringed at being compared to Allie, who was everything she didn’t want to be. Or maybe everything she was.

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized he had a point. She’d started reaching out to Joe and Clark and all the homeless people at Home Fires in order to make Madi proud. Along the way, she’d learned a lot about loving and caring for people, but she still struggled with loving the people who lived in nice houses, drove nice cars, had steady jobs. People who couldn’t admit they needed help. People like herself.

  “It’s an ongoing struggle, I guess,” she said. “I’ve got a long way to go, but if I have you two to help point out my flaws . . .” There was a piece of paper in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at it. It was a used sugar packet. She pressed the tiny paper rectangle flat and ironed it with her fingertip. “With critics like you pushing me to do things I resist, I might just end up a little like Jesus in the end after all.”

  “Well, we can only hope,” Joe said.

  “And pray,” Mike added.

  “But you’re going to need to recruit a new critic,” Joe said.

  Cyndi squinted at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m moving on. I’m taking the money you paid for my attorney fees, and I’m going to get off the streets.”

  Mike’s “That’s great!” and Cyndi’s “Wonderful! I’m so happy for you” mingled in the air.

  “What’s great?” Zach asked, coming in the door. “Mind if I squeeze in? Mom’ll be here soon.”

  Joe scooted over to make room for the teenager.

  “Joe here said he’s moving off the street,” Mike said. To Joe he asked, “Do you need any help finding a place? We could probably drum up a lot of good used furniture from some friends.”

  “Actually, I’m thinking about leaving town,” Joe said.

  Cyndi crumpled the little paper in her hand and rolled it into a tight, tiny ball. She dropped the small yellow sphere on the carpet under the table. “Seriously?” She furrowed her brow. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve just hung around here for so long in case my kids look for me. But they’re not going to.”

  “You don’t know that,” Mike said. “They might come around.”

  “They might, yeah, but there’s this wonderful new invention called the Internet. I think if they really wanted to find me, it would be easier to locate a Joseph Talbot, attorney-at-law, almost anywhere in the country than it would be to figure out, or even admit, that Homeless Joe is their dad. I need to start over in a place where no one has any expectations about me. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’m ready to go.”

  “Oh, Joe,” Cyndi said, laying her smooth white hand over his gnarled, calloused one. He didn’t flinch like he used to. “We’ll miss you so much. And we’ll pray for you every day. You will keep in touch, won’t you?”

  “Sure I will. I’m not going to let myself be alone ever again.”

  “What about Wolf?” This from Zach, who stared at Joe like he’d said he was moving to Mars.

  “Wolf can go with me. He’s the oldest friend I ever had. Won’t he be surprised to sleep in an apartment and eat dog food every day?”

  “He sure will,” Cyndi said. Joe moving on. Unbelievable. “When do you go?”

  Joe reached in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper.

  “What’s that?” Mike asked.

  “My bus schedule. I leave at eight o’clock.”

  “Eight o’clock on which day?” Mike pressed him.

  “Tonight.”

  “Aren’t you full of surprises?” Cyndi said. She prayed her cheerful voice would not betray the shock and dismay she felt at losing him. “Good for you. Where’s your ticket for?”

  “Chicago. I figured I could start in the middle and then decide from there. I’m hoping to find a nonprofit group that helps the homeless that’s looking for an attorney. I’m way past the age of wanting to build a career. But building a legacy might be nice.”

  Allie knocked on the door.

  “Come on in!” they all yelled.

  She let herself in and joined their circle. She pulled a sandwich out of a paper bag. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m so sick of cafeteria food.”

  “Go right ahead,” Cyndi said. She made a mental note to take some fresh snacks up to Spencer’s room.

  “How’s Spencer?” Joe asked.

  “The same. He has his bad days and his worse days. The doctors are past promising he’ll recover. I feel like they’re just putting Band-Aids over holes in the dike.” Allie unloaded an apple and a bottle of water from her sack. “Hey, thank you all for being in court this morning. It meant a lot to me.”

  “No problem,” Mike said. “That’s what we’re here for.”

  Cyndi still couldn’t word her support that enthusiastically, but didn’t disagree. Allie needed their support.

  “And, Cyndi,” Allie said, “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re going to let me work at Home Fires. We got off to such a rocky start”—that was a huge understatement—“but I won’t disappoint you again. I promise.”

  Cyndi had to go through with it. “Come tomorrow at three, and I’ll show you the ropes.”

  “I won’t disappoint you,” Allie said. “I won’t.”

  Zach beamed at his mom. Funny what a little felony could do to bring a family together.

  Chapter 45

  That night, Mike and Cyndi stood hand in hand behind the Greyhound station and waved to Joe as he mounted the steps to his new life.

  Wolf was tucked safely away in a Goodwill kennel in one of the bus storage bays. Joe, freshly shaven and dressed in clean, pressed clothes, waved back. He’d never looked happier.

  Cyndi wiped a tear away.

  The bus started with a cough and a groan. It pulled away, and all that remained of the months they had spent with Joe was a cloud of blue diesel smoke, a soup kitchen, and a new perspective on love and forgiveness.

  “Let’s go home,” Mike said.

  “Sounds good,” Cyndi answered. “I’ll fix us a pot of tea. But since we’re downtown, can we drive around and look for Clark for a few minutes?”

  “Of course.”

  They’d memorized these streets in the past months. They’d been up and down them so many times . . . on foot, in cars, together and alone. Cyndi knew every alley, every bridge that offered shelter from the elements. She knew the names of the regular caseworkers at every shelter. She knew the phone numbers of CPS and the rescue mission by heart.

  As they wove up their regular grid through downtown, Cyndi pressed her forehead against the passenger’s side window, staring into the night for a glimpse of their girl. All she wanted to do was bring her home safe.

  “Come on, Clark. Where are you?”

  Mike looked over at her. “We’ll find her. We will. Maybe not tonight, but someday.”

  After they’d covered every street twice, Mike called it a night. “We’ll come out in the daylight tomorrow. We won’t give up.”

  Cyndi’s heart still ached for the child. She closed her eyes for the short trip home, crying out, “How long?” in silent prayer. By the sound of tires on pavement and the number of turns, she knew they were pulling into the driveway.

  “Cyndi?” Mike said. He put a hand on her knee.

  She opened her eyes.

  A young woman sat on their front porch.

  Could it be?

  It was.


  Cyndi opened her door and jumped from the car while it was still rolling.

  “Clark!” she cried. She ran into the arms of the waiting girl. “Is it really you? You’ve grown! And your hair!”

  Clark had grown out all the pink. Her dark brown hair lay soft and clean around her neck. Her grin was wider than her face.

  Cyndi wrapped her arms tight around Clark and let tears of relief flow. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

  Mike encircled both of them in a hug and whispered, “Thank God.”

  Thank God, indeed.

  Cyndi pushed away from Clark so she could see her again. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Where have you been? Come on, come inside.”

  Clark picked up a backpack and followed Mike in. “I ran away the first day.”

  “You—you what? We were so worried. We couldn’t find you.”

  “I wanted to come back, but I couldn’t. I knew he’d find me.”

  “Why didn’t you call? Or let us know you were okay?”

  “I couldn’t risk him finding me again. But now it doesn’t matter. He has no right to take me again. Today’s my birthday. I’m sixteen.”

  “Are you here to stay, then?” Mike asked.

  Cyndi held her breath and held in her prayer.

  “Is that okay? Could I crash here for a while?”

  Cyndi’s happiness overflowed. “For as long as you want,” she said with a grin so wide it hurt. “For the rest of your life, if you want. Our home is yours.”

  To Get Help

  I wish I could send you to a national organization who is solving the problems of homelessness and food insecurity, but the best resources, at least in my area, are locally run.

  If you or someone you love is houseless or sleeping outside, search online for local homeless shelters or walk into any church to find out what resources are available.

  If you or someone you know is a victim of intimate partner abuse or other domestic violence, please seek help. Call your local police, or the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233.

  To Offer Help

  Volunteer at a Hot Meal Program

  Help staff a homeless shelter

  Donate $50 at agapecoc.org to fill a waterproof backpack with winter supplies. Click “support church” and designate “fill a pack” on the donation page.

  In Portland, OR, volunteer for Night Strike to build community with people under the Burnside Bridge at bridgetowninc.org

  Find out what is happening in your community and join in!

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to the men and women who volunteer tirelessly on behalf of the houseless, the invisible, the hungry, the poor, the frightened. You make our world a better plan.

  To the people at Loaves and Fishes, at Share House, at the Winter Hospitality Overflow, at Agape Church of Christ, at Marriage Team, and the many, many others who stand in the gap to see and to serve those who need it. Thank you.

  To my critique group, my beta readers, my walking buddies who heard and listened to this story as it formed in my heart and mind and as it shaped me in my quest for answers.

  To Ron and Lori Clark at Agape Church of Christ, who always remind me that people deserve to be treated with dignity and that every person is loved by God.

  To Mara for serving in ways we never see or hear about. You are an example to me.

  And always, especially, thanks to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who sees me in my messy life, who rescues me, and who loves me no matter what.

  About the Author

  Patty Slack hopes her stories transport you to places you’ve never been. From the hills of Pennsylvania Coal Country (Closing the Gap) to the farmlands of West Africa (Saving Sorrow) to the Inside Passage of wild Alaska (True North), Patty hopes to take you on a journey.

  Her love of travel and fascination with all kinds of people has exposed her to varied and fascinating cultures. But Patty, like Cyndi, discovered that it can be harder to love the people in your own neighborhood than it is to love people halfway across the world. She will never perfect the art of loving well, but, with God’s help, she plans to keep trying.

  Patty and her family find themselves at home in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Hikes in the Columbia River Gorge and the perfect climate for growing fruits and vegetables more than make up for the long drizzly winter.

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads.

  Other books by Patty Slack

  Closing the Gap

  Saving Sorrow

  True North

  To learn more about Patty Slack’s fiction or to contact the author, visit clayinkpotpress.com