“Any dessert tonight, Reverend? We’ve got your favorite, homemade apple pie.”
He looked toward Susannah who waved that she’d had her fill. “I think that’ll do it, Mavis,” he replied. “We’ll take the check.”
Turning toward her, he met Susannah’s gaze, trying to show appreciation without sounding overly forward. “This is going to sound corny, but you came into my life at precisely the right moment. If I hadn’t made your acquaintance, The Road to Calvary would be through. I can’t thank you enough—”
Susannah held her palm open, interrupting him. “If anybody should be giving thanks, it’s me—because if I hadn’t turned that television on and heard you, I’d be dead.” She paused, her scrutiny intense. “But for someone who does so much for others, what about you, Reverend?”
Ray wasn’t sure what she meant. He tried to keep his face expressionless, but he knew he furrowed his brow.
She held the coffee cup in her slender hands, elbows perched on the table. “I was curious to learn more about the man who’d saved my life, so I did some research. Reminiscent of your father, the Reverend David Williams, you’ve devoted your life to serving God in small congregations throughout the Midwest—Bellville, Illinois; Greencastle, Indiana; Louisville, Kentucky. But I’ll bet your faith in God was sorely tested, wasn’t it, when you did everything you were supposed to do, but your wife, Lorraine, still died from ovarian cancer? After your wife passed, you could have turned away from God, but you didn’t. Instead, you put your message on television and forged ahead, risking everything to save even a few.”
As he listened to her, Ray wasn’t angry or bothered that Susannah Baker had inquired into his life story. Instead, it made perfect sense that this amazingly perceptive stranger would seek answers and put someone else’s hardships above her own. He said nothing, preferring to let her continue.
“Our paths crossed, and through you, I’ve gotten a second chance at life. If a few of my ideas can help The Road to Calvary achieve success and see you happy, that’s a bargain in my eyes.”
It seemed like decades since anyone had been concerned about his happiness. “You are one incredible woman. But I’m not unhappy,” he lied.
“If my prying is uninvited, I apologize,” she said. “But it seems to me that a man who devotes his life to helping others should have someone who’s willing to show that same kind of devotion in his life. And I think God wants you to be happy, too.”
Ray couldn’t take his eyes off her beautiful smile and was about to reply when Mavis’s cheery voice brought him back to earth. “Here you go, Reverend,” she said, placing the check on the table. “You both have a nice evening.”
“You, too, Mavis,” he replied. “Tell Bernie the food was delicious as always.”
“I sure will.” Mavis winked.
“Let me get this,” he said, removing a leather wallet smoothed by use and time from his jacket pocket, the check and wallet in his strong grip. “I should be getting home, but can I drop you somewhere?”
She had risen from the chair, ironing the crease in her skirt with her hands. “If you could drop me off at the bus stop, that would be fine.” She fidgeted nervously, snatching her purse off the table and clutching it tightly.
Ray stood, watching her; she had started rummaging through the bag, refusing eye contact, and his curiosity was piqued. “Drop you at the bus stop? This isn’t the best of neighborhoods. I’d be more than happy to drive you home.”
Susannah stared into the void of her open bag and shuffled her feet. She still didn’t look at Ray, and after a few long seconds, she spoke, “You know, that is so sweet of you, Reverend; and I do appreciate the offer, but I can’t let you take me home.”
The woman who had so confidently told him of her dream and relayed her story of salvation in front of the congregation now seemed to be retreating into her body. His mind buzzing with questions, Ray wanted to understand her dilemma.
“Why not?” he asked, trying hard not to be crushed at the possibility there might be someone else. “Is there a jealous boyfriend at home who doesn’t know you’re here? I’d be happy to explain everything.”
She dropped back down into the chair, one arm through the strap of her purse as she searched for words. “This is embarrassing, but . . . there is no home.”
He squeezed her arm with a comforting hand. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Tell me, so I can at least try to help you.”
Her voice grew anxious, and as she relayed details of her situation, the words tumbled out faster and faster. “You’ve heard my story and that you helped me find sobriety. But what you wouldn’t know is that financially things haven’t gone so great. I work temporary jobs when I can get them, and when I can’t, which is right now because I haven’t worked in almost three months, then I . . . I have to live in my car or stay at a shelter.”
This was not where he had expected this conversation to lead, but Ray was moved by both the desperation of Susannah’s plight and her determination to maintain her dignity. His fingers slid softly along her arm, lightly grasping her trembling hand. “I can find you a place to stay. We can go to your car and get your things—”
“No,” she interrupted, the quiver in her voice evident. She wouldn’t look at him, but still clutched his hand.
“All right,” he said, trying to soothe her. “If you’d rather I didn’t see how you’ve been forced to live, that’s fine. But I won’t allow you to spend another night sleeping in your car. We’ll go to Target and get you a toothbrush and some pajamas. There’s a motel I know of where you can stay and be safe.”
Her whole body shivered as tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. Squeezing his hand tighter, she spoke in a hoarse whisper, barely audible, “Okay, we can go to Target, if it’s no trouble.”
Ray patted the top of her hand, feeling she was holding onto him as if he were a lifeline. “It’s no trouble. No trouble at all.”
Once finished at Target, he drove to a hotel specializing in extended stays. He knew the manager, a former drug addict whom he had helped get a fresh start after rehab. Ray had called ahead and arranged for Susannah to stay there.
Doug Snyder, the owner, met them at the motel. “Any friend of Reverend Ray’s is a friend of mine.” He smiled, extending a muscular hand. “You’re welcome here as long as you need.”
Susannah shook Doug’s hand as Ray registered her. Ray said, “I’m not sure how long Miss Baker will be staying, but I’ll keep you informed.”
“No problem. There’s a bedroom, kitchenette, bathroom, and sitting area,” Doug said, directing his comments to Susannah. “If I can be of any further assistance, please let me know.”
Ray carried in the red-and-white plastic bags, and they made their way to her room. He opened the door and guided her in. “As Doug said, you’re welcome to stay here. A week, a month, however long until you’re back on your feet, understand?”
“But how will you pay for this? I can’t accept—”