Who Do I Lean On? Read Online Free PDF Page A

Gracie,” I murmured to the sweet-smelling toddler in my arms. “Let’s go see who’s coming to your party.” With my free hand I opened the foyer door for Mabel Turner, the director of the Manna House Women’s Shelter—a woman with steel nerves covered in brown velvet. “Oh, hey, C.J.” I beamed at her fourteen-year-old nephew, whose tight cornrows all over his head didn’t do much to toughen his “pretty boy” features.
    The boy hunched his shoulders, not meeting my eyes. “I go by Jermaine now,” he mumbled. “My real name.”
    â€œOh! So the J in C.J. stands for Jermaine. What does—?” But C.J. had already disappeared inside before I found out what C stood for.
    â€œDon’t close that door!” someone hollered. I peeked out to see Precious and her daughter Sabrina—sixteen and pregnant—climbing out of Mabel’s car, along with Tanya and her eight-year-old Sammy. Both moms and their offspring were long-term “guests” at the Manna House shelter.
    â€œGet in here quick! Paul and P.J. might get back any minute— ouch! Let go of my hair, sweetie.” The toddler in my arms had grabbed a fistful of my corkscrew curls and squealed.
    â€œ Oomph . Sabrina don’t do quick anymore.” Precious practically pushed her gorgeous teenager—too cute for her own good, according to Precious—up the short flight of steps. “An’ she only five and a half months gone. Girl, I’m gonna need a wheelbarrow for you by the time that baby gonna pop.”
    Sabrina arched her eyebrows in that exaggerated patience teens reserve for their parents, but she coyly held her arms out to Gracie as the knot of new arrivals came into the apartment building. The baby let go of my hair and willingly threw herself into the girl’s arms. I shooed Tanya and Sammy inside, but hung back with Precious. Waving my hand at the building, I dropped my voice. “What do you think?”
    â€œWhat do I think?” Precious practically snorted. “Sista girl, if these apartments have a hot shower an’ a front door and a back door I can lock, they beautiful. What I want to know is what you thinkin’. You gonna buy this building or not? When can we move in?”
    â€œThat’s what I want to do, Precious. But the boys just came back this week. I’ve been busy getting them registered for school and haven’t had a chance to talk to my lawyer. Or the Manna House board. Hopefully next week, though. Just . . . pray, okay?”
    â€œPray? Gabby girl, my knees got dents in ’em from all the hours I been spendin’ praying ’bout this crazy idea of yours.”
    â€œYou haven’t said anything to Tanya yet, have you?” Tanya had been a teen mother herself, and she and Sammy had never had a home of their own.
    Precious tossed her head full of tiny twists. “Whatchu think I am? You ask me not to say nothin’, so nothin’ is what I’m sayin’. ’Cept to God, of course. He gettin’ an earful.”
    A familiar car turned the corner. “Quick, get inside. There’s Philip with the boys.” We hustled inside. “They’re here, they’re here, everybody! Come out of the sunporch, away from those windows, okay? . . . Where’s Jodi? Oh, there you are. Jodi, you take care of the apartment door, okay? When they buzz the intercom, I’ll go out and let them in from the foyer, but when the boys get to the apartment door, you pull it open and everybody yell ‘Surprise!’ Okay?”
    Laughing and jostling, my guests obediently crowded into the not-too-big living room while we waited for the front door buzzer. A hot minute went by. Then two. What in the world was taking the boys so—
    Blaaaaaat .
    â€œQuiet! Quiet. I’m going out.” I slipped out the front door. Rats! What was Philip doing in the foyer? He was supposed to just let