I push through the swinging door and find Tracker sitting on a stool, Kelsey opposite him. Hope is washing dishes in the sink.
I knew he’d find me. He always does.
Tracker glances at me as he takes another bite of his sandwich, completely unfazed by my glare.
I open the fridge and grab an apple, then plop on the stool beside Kelsey, needing a moment to brace myself for whatever he has to say.
“Hey, girl,” I bump her shoulder.
Kelsey’s long, dark hair hides her slight smile, but I still see it. “Hey.”
The sweet, smart fifteen-year-old has no family but a boyfriend she’s trying to convince herself she’s strong enough to escape.
Treatment and security here only work to the extent you can dig deep enough to find even a shred of value.
When you’ve been used, abused, bought, sold, drugged, neglected, manipulated, and lived through horrors no person should ever return from, finding even a morsel of respect and self-worth is like sifting dirt and hoping to find gold. Every time you dig, more dirt falls in, covering what you’ve exposed. The gold might be there, but the odds of finding it and keeping a firm grasp are slim to none.
“How’s school?” I ask.
“She just aced her history test.” Hope jumps in, drying her hands on a towel and swinging an arm around her.
I scrunch my nose. “You’re one of those history buffs. If I got a ‘C’ in that class, it was a miracle.”
“That’s being generous,” Tracker mumbles, keeping his eyes on the food in front of him and popping a chip in his mouth.
I ignore him, and Kelsey laughs.
“I’m thinking about tutoring.” Her voice is tentative.
“Well, I sure could’ve used you when I was trying not to fail.”
Hope squeezes her shoulder before hanging the towel to dry.
Kelsey slides off her stool. “I’ve got chores and a report due tomorrow onMoby Dick.”
Both Tracker and I groan.
“Don’t listen to them,” Hope gives us the eye. “It’s a classic, and your paper will be amazing.”
Kelsey laughs on her way out the door.
“How’s she doing?” I ask, knowing this is a precarious time.
Hope exhales. “She’s taking it day by day. Her boyfriend showed up at school. He left without too much of an issue, but that didn’t help things.”
Everyone who enters this house is free to leave at any time, but while they’re here, there are rules to keep everyone safe and cared for in ways that will set them on a better path.
Hope slides her arms around Tracker’s neck. They’ve been married for twenty-five years, and the love still shows. It’s nice to see it actually exists. She rests her chin on his shoulder, and he kisses her cheek.
Hope is beautiful and the kindest, most heartwarming, committed person you’ll ever meet. Running this house and helping these women and children is her passion. She loves on these residents like they’re hers, forever and always, regardless—every single one of them. Even the difficult ones. She never gives up.
“I heard this guy released you into the wild.” One side of her mouth tips up carefully, testing the waters and ready to referee.
“Man, word travels fast around here.” I have no doubt she was Track’s sounding board.
“It’d better,” she smiles, taking the stool next to him. “If one of my girls is moving in with a man, I should be the first to know about it.”
“I’m not moving in with anyone. This. Is. An. AS-SIGN-MENT.” I make sure to enunciate the final word.
