Read Online Saturday Morning by Lauraine Snelling - Free Book Online
Authors: Lauraine Snelling
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thought while she ate her eggs. “The duty roster needs to be updated to work this new girl in. Someone needs to go to Costco. And the checklist needs to be gone over for the market tomorrow.” She paused, glanced at the clock, then at Roger. “We need to see if Starshine is back. I’d like to talk to her if she’s in. Oh, and I have a meeting with Peter Kent at eleven thirty, and you”—she looked at Roger—“have one this afternoon at … ”
“Two o’clock,” he supplied. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll do the Costco run first thing this morning.”
Celia ignored Adolphs whines for more pats. The dog was never satisfied. “And I’ll do the roster, call Starshine, and go over the market checklist.”
Hope’s thoughts were already elsewhere. Intake was always Hope’s department. Please, God, let this child be clean . While she knewthe prayer was pretty hopeless, she nevertheless lived up to her name—and hoped.
Casa de Jesus started as a dream in Hope’s heart after she gave her life to her Savior. It became a reality thanks to a grant from an unknown benefactor that covered purchasing the building. Money came in from several sources: her church gave her a small budget for daily expenses; the Saturday Market, held in what used to be the church’s parking lot, brought in money through space fees charged to the vendors and through the sale of deep-fried dough called elephant ears, chai, and coffee to the shoppers. A good portion of their budget came from Social Services.
Still, they struggled to keep the doors open. Every day brought a new challenge that tested Hopes creativity and her resourcefulness.
After breakfast, Hope and Roger worked side by side to clean up; then they were off to their individual duties. It was a little after nine when Hope left the kitchen. She waved to the two girls cleaning the common area as she headed toward her appointment.
“Good morning, Officer Langley.” Hope reached out and shook the young woman’s hand. They had met before under similar circumstances and had found that they shared a common goal, helping the girls and women get off the street and into a safe environment.
“Sorry to spring this on you,” the officer said, “but you know how things are … ”
“Could you use a cup of coffee?” Hope asked.
“No thanks. Celia kept our cups full.”
Hope smiled at the girl sitting beside the woman in uniform, then extended her hand. “Hi there, I’m Hope.”
No response from the emaciated teen dressed in black leather short shorts and a black bustier that only emphasized a flat chest. She wore four-inch spike heels and fishnet stockings that had seen betterdays. Her bleached blond hair had been teased to near extinction, and her long jagged bangs fell like a curtain over her eyes.
As she did with all the young girls who came through the doors of J House, Hope wanted to tuck the hair behind this girl’s ears, wash her face, and hug her close. It was the unfulfilled mothering instinct in her coming out. She longed for children of her own but had been told she would probably never conceive because her internal damage was too extensive.
“Come on in so we can talk.” Hope led the way to her office, ignoring the reception areas stacks of file folders and papers, awaiting a magic fairy to put them into file cabinets that didn’t exist. “Is she court-mandated to be here?” Hope asked, walking around her desk, a 1940s oak monstrosity that she’d found at a yard sale for twenty dollars. Her entire office was furnished with yard sale finds, and though nothing matched, the office had a warmth that Hope loved and that seemed to put other people at ease.
Officer Langley walked behind her young charge and indicated that she should sit in the chair closest to Hope’s desk. “No. We just hoped you’d have room for her.”
Hope poised her pen over a pre-printed admittance form. “What’s your name?”
“Kiss.”
She wrote the name down, then looked
“Two o’clock,” he supplied. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll do the Costco run first thing this morning.”
Celia ignored Adolphs whines for more pats. The dog was never satisfied. “And I’ll do the roster, call Starshine, and go over the market checklist.”
Hope’s thoughts were already elsewhere. Intake was always Hope’s department. Please, God, let this child be clean . While she knewthe prayer was pretty hopeless, she nevertheless lived up to her name—and hoped.
Casa de Jesus started as a dream in Hope’s heart after she gave her life to her Savior. It became a reality thanks to a grant from an unknown benefactor that covered purchasing the building. Money came in from several sources: her church gave her a small budget for daily expenses; the Saturday Market, held in what used to be the church’s parking lot, brought in money through space fees charged to the vendors and through the sale of deep-fried dough called elephant ears, chai, and coffee to the shoppers. A good portion of their budget came from Social Services.
Still, they struggled to keep the doors open. Every day brought a new challenge that tested Hopes creativity and her resourcefulness.
After breakfast, Hope and Roger worked side by side to clean up; then they were off to their individual duties. It was a little after nine when Hope left the kitchen. She waved to the two girls cleaning the common area as she headed toward her appointment.
“Good morning, Officer Langley.” Hope reached out and shook the young woman’s hand. They had met before under similar circumstances and had found that they shared a common goal, helping the girls and women get off the street and into a safe environment.
“Sorry to spring this on you,” the officer said, “but you know how things are … ”
“Could you use a cup of coffee?” Hope asked.
“No thanks. Celia kept our cups full.”
Hope smiled at the girl sitting beside the woman in uniform, then extended her hand. “Hi there, I’m Hope.”
No response from the emaciated teen dressed in black leather short shorts and a black bustier that only emphasized a flat chest. She wore four-inch spike heels and fishnet stockings that had seen betterdays. Her bleached blond hair had been teased to near extinction, and her long jagged bangs fell like a curtain over her eyes.
As she did with all the young girls who came through the doors of J House, Hope wanted to tuck the hair behind this girl’s ears, wash her face, and hug her close. It was the unfulfilled mothering instinct in her coming out. She longed for children of her own but had been told she would probably never conceive because her internal damage was too extensive.
“Come on in so we can talk.” Hope led the way to her office, ignoring the reception areas stacks of file folders and papers, awaiting a magic fairy to put them into file cabinets that didn’t exist. “Is she court-mandated to be here?” Hope asked, walking around her desk, a 1940s oak monstrosity that she’d found at a yard sale for twenty dollars. Her entire office was furnished with yard sale finds, and though nothing matched, the office had a warmth that Hope loved and that seemed to put other people at ease.
Officer Langley walked behind her young charge and indicated that she should sit in the chair closest to Hope’s desk. “No. We just hoped you’d have room for her.”
Hope poised her pen over a pre-printed admittance form. “What’s your name?”
“Kiss.”
She wrote the name down, then looked
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