“There are three other women you’ll be sharing this room with, but you can pick any bed that’s not in use.” She wanted to hug Luna until the worry lines around her face disappeared, but even if she thought the woman would allow an embrace, it would take more than that to ease Hope House’s newest resident. “I’ll have a portable crib brought in for you by tonight.”
Luna’s dark hair hung in straggly tresses around her face. “Thank you. I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“We’re happy to have you and the kids.” She risked laying a comforting hand on Luna’s shoulder. To Rachel’s surprise and delight, Luna didn’t move. “Linens are in that first closet. Help yourself to any you need to be comfortable. The dresser to the right of each bed is for use by the bed’s occupants.”
“Thank you.”
“I can keep Mercy in the office with me while you unpack, or I can take her to the nursery.”
“She stays with me.” Luna reached for her infant but stopped short of taking her. “If that’s okay.”
“That’s fine. If you decide you’d like to leave her with me, bring her to the office. I’ll be there the rest of the afternoon.” Though she knew Luna could settle in with less effort if she didn’t have an infant and toddler to contend with, Rachel had learned never to push the issue.
Many women who arrived at the shelter carried soul scars that manifested themselves in fear and insecurity. They’d been abused and abandoned, addicted and alone. Trust didn’t come easy—it had been shattered too many times in their past.
Counseling helped the women, along with the security of a safe home while they recovered and began new lives. Slowly, friendships formed between the residents as they shared stories of past horrors and found kindred spirits who understood the unique tribulations they’d experienced.
Rachel prayed that Luna, too, would make friends. Under the layers of regret and fear, she sensed a sweet, determined spirit in the woman.
She handed Mercy to her mother. “The showers are available for use at any time if you’d like to clean up. There’s a hygiene bag with all the necessities in your welcome pack.”
When Skye, Luna’s two-year-old daughter, peeked into the room, her eyes doubled in size. “Mama, I have my own bed?”
Luna cracked her first smile since arriving but covered it quickly. She addressed Rachel, but her gaze focused on a point further down the hallway. “She can share with me.”
“Only if you want, but she can have one for herself. I think we even have some P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S sheets.”
“She’s never had a bed of her own.” Luna swallowed. “It will be a fun, new adventure for her.”
The small concession gave Rachel confidence her new resident would be just fine once she adjusted. “If you need anything at all, please let me know. Lunch will be served between eleven-thirty and twelve-thirty.”
Luna released Skye’s hand to adjust the duffel bag on her shoulder. It held all the belongings she’d arrived with. “Thank you, Miss Goodman.”
Rachel left the family to make themselves comfortable in their new but temporary home. She’d stopped by the maintenance office to speak with Carl about the potential security risk. A former active-duty Marine, her head maintenance man doubled as a security guard when needed.
Times like this, she especially wished the shelter could afford full-time security personnel. She’d witnessed firsthand the uselessness of a restraining order against a man determined to harm, and fear of a security breach lurked in her mind. When it became too much, she turned it over to God and prayed for the safety of all the residents.
Carl had his hand on the doorknob, about to leave his office, when she approached.
“Do you have a minute?”
He let go of the door. “I was about to change out the front lights, but that can wait a few minutes. What’s up?”
“We have a new resident. She’s here with her two young daughters, but we need to be on guard.” Possible scenarios ran through her mind, and she forced herself to focus and not worry. The best thing she could do was be aware and prepared.
“Can you give me specifics?”
“Her husband is in rehab, but she believes it’s only a stunt to keep himself out of jail. She has a restraining order in place, however, we both know how effective those can be.”
Carl’s jaw twitched. “Prior history of violence, I assume?”
She nodded. “And drugs.”
“Sounds like a real winner.”
As much as she wanted to agree with Carl, she kept her response professional. “We can only pray his motives for rehab are pure.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
