Another Way Home Page 6

  And yet, there was something exciting in learning something new, in feeling that she might make a difference in a woman’s life. Renee, though she was barely out of college, had done a good job of explaining what they could expect on a typical night, and being with the other volunteers, who were all as green as Danae, had given her more confidence that she could do this.

  After the training sessions he’d attended, Dallas had reluctantly admitted that it seemed safe enough. But she knew he didn’t have the time, nor the inclination, to continue with the training. Besides, most of the things male volunteers were involved in—maintenance and upkeep, or bookwork—would have had them working different schedules. She suspected he was mostly just glad she’d found something to keep her mind off the whole baby thing. She’d graciously given him an out tonight, which he grabbed onto so fast it made her head spin.

  The first three training sessions had been held at the church. Not until they’d been given a chance to back out had they been allowed to come tonight to the actual address of the center. And Danae was ashamed to admit that she’d strongly considered backing out. Letting Dallas’s earlier reluctance give her an excuse to say no to the next step.

  She’d tried to imagine pouring her passion and focus into the poverty and tragedy that some people lived with every day. If she was honest, she wanted to pretend those people didn’t exist. Wanted to hide out in her beautiful home and shop online for yet another three-hundred-dollar bedspread or a new lamp for the second nursery.

  But then she looked around and began to see all she’d been blessed with—a loving husband, a luxurious home, good health despite no baby, her happy childhood, and loving parents. She had so much! And by the time she went through the litany of blessings, she would have felt guilty not agreeing to volunteer.

  So here she was in this residential home in an older, middle-

  class neighborhood. On the outside, it looked like any other home on the street. No sign or awning marked it as the women’s

  shelter. But inside, the house had been modified to create bedrooms for up to twelve women, two women to a room. Most shared the two large bathrooms, but there were two family rooms that had private baths. Those were reserved for women with children, and on rare occasions, for couples who were threatened by a third party. Right now there were only five women in residence at Cape Haven, each assigned her own room, but they expected to fill up quickly once they were fully staffed.

  “No matter how many women we have, there must always be two volunteers here at any given time. And we work on the buddy system,” Renee explained. “Depending on the threat level, you may be instructed to stay together at all times. In a few minutes I’ll show you the safe room in the basement and we’ll go over the procedures for using that room if necessary.”

  Two safe rooms? Danae wondered if her eyes reflected the fear she saw in the other two volunteers’ eyes.

  Renee must have noticed, too, because her voice quickly turned soothing. “Don’t worry. The vast majority of the time, that won’t be an issue. We expect to use the basement safe room more as a storm shelter than a haven from a spouse who goes ‘postal,’ but we wanted to guarantee the safety of not only our women but the volunteers too. Most of these women have made a clean break with the help of family members or friends, or sometimes clergy. When that’s the case, their abuser rarely has a clue where they are. In many instances, the women have come from St. Louis or Kansas City, so they—and you—will be far removed, physically, from their abuser.”

  Renee looked at each of them in turn. “Unfortunately, the more difficult part is removing these women emotionally from the person who has abused them. It’s difficult for those of us in healthy relationships to understand how any woman could allow a man to control her to that degree, and there are as many reasons as there are women why someone would go back to a man who has beaten her within an inch of her life or even put her children in danger.”

  Danae shuddered inwardly. It was hard to understand. And it made her angry that God allowed women like that to have children when she and Dallas had been denied. She brushed away the thought as if it were a cobweb. She was here to keep her mind off of that topic. And to help women with worse problems than her own. She was grateful that spousal abuse was an issue she’d never had to deal with. She didn’t even know anyone who’d suffered abuse at the hands of a man who supposedly loved her. Of course, given the statistics she’d heard over the last week, maybe she did know such a woman and just hadn’t recognized the signs.

  “Many times, dealing with these women’s emotions will be your challenge,” Renee continued. “While we don’t expect you to play psychologist or counselor, the sessions over the next six weeks will train you in helping women to break the cycle of abuse and gain the skills they need to be on their own. We help empower women to leave their pasts behind, not just for their own good, but for the sake of their children and other family members.” She looked over the sheaf of papers in her hands. “The center is new and we’re all still working through things and figuring out what works and what doesn’t, but are there any questions so far?”

  Megan, one of the volunteers, timidly held up a hand. “I assume we aren’t allowed to talk about what goes on at the shelter with just anyone, but can I talk to my husband about things?” She gave a nervous laugh. “I get the feeling I’m going to need to vent to someone.”

  Renee frowned. “You’ll each have to sign a confidentiality agreement and I can’t stress enough how important it is that you not discuss anything that happens here outside of the center. As we said before, and as the agreement you signed affirms, it’s especially important that you not disclose the location of the center. I’m not going to say you can’t talk to your husbands about your experiences. I’m not one who believes it’s healthy for a husband and wife to keep anything from each other, but we would prefer that you not use full names or specific details when you share with your spouse.”

  Dallas wouldn’t be happy about that part either. Yet, Renee had seemed to leave a loophole so that they could use their judgment about how much to tell their spouses. She wouldn’t feel right not telling Dallas where she was each time she came to volunteer. And she knew he would argue, rightfully so, that he would need to know where to find her if she had car trouble, if the weather turned bad . . . No, she would tell him. It wasn’t like she couldn’t trust him to keep a secret. She’d just make it clear he was not to pass along the information.

  A cloud settled over her as she thought back to their conversation the other night, when she’d tried—unsuccessfully—to convince him to consider getting their names on the list with the new adoption agency she’d heard about.

  Though she had no evidence, she couldn’t jettison the feeling that Dallas was keeping a few secrets from her in that regard.

  7

  Audrey held her hands out over the fire pit and looked up into the night sky. “I can’t believe we got another night nice enough for a fire.”

  “You call this nice?” Grant shivered and zipped the collar of his jacket as high as it would go. How he’d let her talk him into yet another outdoor Tuesday night dinner he didn’t know. She was wily, his wife.

  “Well, it was nice. I admit it’s a little chilly now.”

  In the meadow below them, lit only by two camping lanterns hung from the climbing tree, their kids and grandkids—except for Chase and Landyn’s twins who were asleep in the house—played a raucous game of King on the Mountain. Their playful shouts, punctuated by Huck’s yipping, floated up on the night air. He and Audrey exchanged knowing smiles.

  He shrugged. “They don’t seem to be bothered by the cold.”

  The fire crackled and snapped in reply, and he followed Audrey’s gaze to a jewel box of stars. He had to admit it was a beautiful night. Overhead, a canopy of deep blue served as a backdrop to the glitter of stars. And the waning light of a crescent moon illuminated a tracery of tree branches still valiantly clutching their leaves of yellow and go
ld.

  “These Tuesday dinners were a good idea.” She leaned back in her chair and tilted her head back, closing her eyes.

  “They were, weren’t they?”

  A trio came trudging up from the meadow. Corinne with her two youngest girls, judging by the silhouettes.

  But when they got close enough, Grant realized it was Danae with the girls.

  “Can we leave these munchkins with you guys?” She hefted Simone onto Audrey’s lap, not waiting for an answer.

  “You guys have enough light down there?”

  “Too much. I keep getting captured.” Danae laughed. “I shouldn’t have worn a white sweatshirt.”

  Grant pulled Sadie onto his lap. “Didn’t you want to play?”

  “It’s too dark, Poppa. Can I have another s’more?” She snuggled into his coat, petting his head as if he were a cat.

  “Gram? What do you think?” He lived in fear of breaking one of the new parenting rules, and always deferred to Audrey when it came to the grandkids. Who knew there would be so many newfangled devices and so much newfangled advice by the time his kids had kids?

  “Better not this late, sweetie. But maybe we can send home all the stuff to make one in the microwave tomorrow. What would you think about that?”

  Sadie pouted a little, but Audrey soon distracted her.

  “Thanks, Poppa and Gram.” Danae started back down to the meadow.

  But Grant stopped her. “Did Dallas tell you I ran into him at Walmart last week?”

  “He did.”

  “Said something about you volunteering at that homeless shelter.”

  “It’s not a homeless shelter, Dad. It’s a women’s shelter. A safe house for women who are in abusive relationships”—she winked—“like Mom, for instance.”

  He ignored her joke. “You feel safe there?”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What did Dallas say? Did he put you up to this?”

  “No. I put me up to this. What if some hostile husband comes to get his wife and you’re in the middle of it?”

  “Dad, the women are there in secret. That’s the whole point. No one is supposed to know they’re even there.”

  “What does Dallas think about you working there?”

  “I don’t actually work there. I’m just a volunteer . . . probably only one night a week—maybe two—once the training is over. And Dallas is the one who suggested it in the first place.”

  He couldn’t tell for sure in the dim light, but he didn’t think she was quite meeting his eyes. From the way his son-in-law had talked, Grant hadn’t gotten the impression that Dallas had encouraged Danae. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  Danae gave him a quick hug. “They’re waiting on me for a game, Dad. Can we finish this conversation later?”

  “Sure. You go on. Don’t step in a hole on your way down to the meadow. I’ve got a stupid mole that’s intent on turning my yard into Swiss cheese.”

  “Yeah, Mom told us. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

  He was pretty sure she didn’t just mean about the mole holes. Not that it made him feel any better about her getting involved with the safe house. But maybe he was making a mountain out of, well, a molehill.

  * * *

  A twinge of guilt pinched Danae. It hadn’t been quite a lie, but if she were being totally honest with her dad, she would have revealed that Dallas had his qualms about her volunteering. And while it had been his idea for her to volunteer, it was a stretch to say the women’s center gig was his idea. A long stretch.

  “Hey, sister, you coming or not?” Link waved from the meadow below.

  “Hurry up, Aunt Danae. You’re on my team.” Sari charged up the hill toward her.

  “I’m going as fast as I can, squirt. How’d you manage to get us on the same team?”

  “Daddy said it was OK.”

  “Good for him.”

  “Mommy’s too tired. She’s goin’ up to help Gram.”

  Corinne came up the hill behind Sari, looking worn out.

  “You think it’s going to be more restful up there?” Danae gestured over her shoulder.

  Corinne laughed. “Good point. Maybe I’ll just sit here and watch you guys for a while.” She plopped down on a slope and propped her elbows on her knees with a sigh.

  Danae bent to look at her. “Are you OK?”

  Corinne waved her off. “I’m fine. Just tired.” She gave a crooked smile. “It’ll go away in a couple of weeks.”

  Danae fought off the thought that seemed to come no matter how she resisted it. Will I ever know what it’s like to be pregnant? Will I ever get to be the one talking about morning sickness and trimesters and labor pains?

  She felt like she should say something else to Corinne, but she couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound bitter or woe-is-me, so she gave her sister a clumsy pat on the shoulder, then pointed down the hill. “I’d better go. They’re waiting on me.”

  “You go. Win one for the girls.”

  She nodded and jogged toward the meadow. But she felt like crying and was glad for the cover of darkness. She missed the days before this awkwardness had sprung up between them. She felt like it was her fault, and yet she didn’t have a clue how to fix it. Worse, the way things were between her and Dallas lately, she didn’t feel like she could even talk to him about it.

  Great. She’d shut out her dad by not being fully honest with him. She’d made things awkward with her sister by not knowing how to talk to her about her pregnancy. And things were tentative with Dallas because he wasn’t crazy about the new “passion” she was pursuing.

  Interesting that she was the common denominator in all these relationship woes. Maybe she should take a hint.

  “Hurry up, Aunt Danae.” Sari grabbed her hand. “We’re ahead, but we need you!”

  “OK, I’m coming, sweetie.” At least somebody still liked her.

  8

  Dallas and his brother had been running the Cape LaCroix trail every chance they could, taking advantage of the most perfect fall weather Dallas could remember. And that was saying a lot, given southeast Missouri’s typical stunning autumns.

  It had finally gotten colder, but he didn’t mind what Danae fondly referred to as sweater weather.

  They’d run about a mile along the curvy tree-lined trail, and Drew had hardly said two words. Sometimes that was OK, but Dallas got the distinct impression his brother had something on his mind. As they rounded a bend in the sidewalk, he gave Drew a brotherly slug on the bicep. “How’s come you’re so quiet today? You having girl problems?”

  “Ha!” Drew rolled his eyes. “Don’t I wish. I’m starting to think all the good ones are taken.”

  “Hey, you’re too young to give up hope.”

  “Easy for you to say, buster, since you’re married to one of the best ones out there.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. Danae definitely was one of the best—the best—but it wouldn’t be honest if he didn’t admit that things had been better between them. He knew they’d get through this, but they were definitely in a rough patch right now. But his brother didn’t need to get involved. This was between him and Danae. “Hey, you know we’ve offered to play matchmaker. We weren’t just kidding. There are some very nice girls at our church.”

  Drew gave him a sideways look. “ ‘Very nice’ being a euphemism for ‘ugly as mud’?”

  “No. Not at all. I’m serious. Come to church with us Sunday. I’ll point out a few and we’ll go from there.”

  His brother looked like he might actually be thinking about it. Drew was a good guy, and Dallas knew his brother’s faith had remained strong even through four years of state college and a sales job in a decidedly secular atmosphere. But he claimed he didn’t have time for church. Maybe meeting chicks wasn’t the best reason to convince someone to come to church, but Dallas thought the ends justified the means in this case.

  Drew surprised him by reaching out and stopping him with a hand on his shoulder. “You might
be surprised to know that I wasn’t thinking about finding a woman, but about finding a kid for you and Danae.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Hear me out, bro.” He moved to the edge of the trail while a pair of coeds jogged past. Drew’s eyes followed them, appraising for a few seconds before he turned to give Dallas the look that was brotherly shorthand for hubba hubba.

  He shook his head. “Too young for you, man. And don’t look at me. I’m a happily married man.” He took off, jogging at a slower pace, wondering where his brother was going with this.

  “I can’t quit thinking about what we talked about a few weeks ago.”

  Dallas waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, he begrudgingly took the bait. “We’ve talked about a hundred things in the last few weeks.”

  “I’m talking about the adoption thing,” Drew said finally.

  “Drew, I—”

  He held up a hand. “Will you please just let me get this out? I feel like I’ve been supposed to say something for the last two weeks and it wasn’t easy to get my courage up.”

  Not liking the direction this conversation was going, Dallas nudged up the pace. He’d see just how strong his little brother’s feeling to say something was.

  “I was only fifteen when that all went down with your mom

  . . . your birth mom. And we’ve never really talked about it. Mom told me a little bit, of course, but I guess maybe I don’t know the whole story. I feel kind of bad that I said anything the other day, since I don’t know what happened back then. But if it’s nothing more than Mom—our mom—said, then I have a speech for that too.” He looked sheepish. “I just don’t like having what feels like a wedge between us because we haven’t really talked about this.”

  “What did Mom tell you?” He couldn’t look at Drew. Wasn’t sure he even wanted to know the answer to that question. Except that if he didn’t get an answer, the wondering would drive him crazy and force him to think about things he’d long tried to bury. Dread rose up in his throat, choking him the way it always did when he thought about that day.