Who Do I Talk To? by Neta Jackson Page B

a’ Greenville. Still got a slew o’ cousins here. Jesus, help me! Don’ know what Sabrina was thinkin’ —”
    â€œDid you say ‘here’? Where are you, Precious?”
    â€œGreenville. South Carolina. Where I grew up, girl! Now Sabrina sayin’ she don’ wanna come home with me, wants to stay with the cousins. So I gotta stay here awhile till we get things worked out. But . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    I waited a beat or two. “But what, Precious?”
    Another long sigh. “That ain’t the worst of it. She’s pregnant.”
    I sat at my desk with my head in my hands for a long time. My heart ached for Precious. She was only thirty—which meant she had gotten pregnant at fourteen. I knew she wanted a different life for Sabrina. Look how far she’d come! Before the fire that had taken down the old Manna House building, Precious had been a resident here. Now look at her! She had a job waitressing—or did. No telling how long a restaurant would hold her job for a family emergency. She’d gotten her own apartment with a Section 8, worked the lunchroom at Sabrina’s high school, and volunteered here at Manna House. And she was so smart! No telling how far she could go given half a chance.
    Now this.
    I felt a tug on my arm. “Miz Gabby? Is my mama back yet? I gotta go real bad.”
    â€œOh, Sammy.” I’d almost forgotten about the little boy. “Come on, I’ll take you.”
    I stood outside the bathroom until he was finished, then sent him back in to wash his hands while I picked out a copy of Curious George from the bookcase in the rec room, which was usually noisy this time of day—or had been before school was out. The other four shelter kids must be out with their moms. “Come on, kiddo.” We climbed the stairs to the multipurpose room on the main level. Good, my mother was awake, just sitting patiently on the couch, hands in her lap, watching people come and go.
    â€œMom, would you mind reading to Sammy? He’s waiting for his mother.”
    She seemed delighted. But she crooked a finger at me. “Where’s Dandy?” she whispered. “Does he need to go out?”
    Oh brother. The dog had been shut in my office all day. How long had it been since he’d been out? The headache threatened to send tentacles snaking over my head again. But I assured Mom I’d take care of Dandy, then hurried into the foyer and knocked on Mabel’s office door.
    â€œCome in.”
    I poked my head in. “Um, we’ve got a situation. Tanya never came back from her nine o’clock housing appointment. My mom’s reading to Sammy at the moment. But it’s already two thirty. Should we be worried?”

chapter 7

    Mabel pulled Tanya’s file. “Hm. Stephanie’s her case manager.” Stephanie Cooper was a social worker who volunteered two mornings a week doing case management for Manna House. “Her housing sheet says . . . here it is. ‘Deborah’s Place, Wednesday, June 21, 9:00 a.m.’” The director looked up. “I’ll make a call, see if she showed up for her appointment this morning. We don’t normally go chasing after people, Gabby. If they’re a no-show by curfew, their bed goes to someone else. But leaving Sammy here is a different story . . .”
    I nodded and backed out. Tanya better not be a no-show. I had too much on my own plate to take her kid under my wing too. Slipping past my mother and Sammy, who were both giggling at Curious George, I headed back to my office. I really needed to get some work done . . . Oh, good grief ! I’d just volunteered for dog duty too.
    Except my office was empty. No Dandy. The door was shut . . . How did he get out?! I groaned. I did not have time to go looking for the dumb dog! And if he did his business somewhere in the shelter, that was it. I’d send him to the pound myself!