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The young mother looked first at Andrea, then Faith. “What about my ex-husband?”
“What about him?” Faith’s voice held more than bravado. There was a warning for any man foolish enough to raise his hand against a woman or child.
Constance must have heard the warning. She hesitated before explaining, “Suppose he finds out where I live and he comes here?”
Faith sat straighter in the armchair. “I wish he would. I’d—”
Andrea interrupted her friend’s tirade. “Wouldn’t you feel safer knowing you weren’t alone?”
Constance’s eyes were wide and haunted. “I’d feel better knowing I wasn’t putting other people in danger.”
“There’s strength in numbers.” Faith sounded confident.
Constance looked again to her daughter. “I don’t know.”
Faith crossed her arms. “We do.”
Andrea gave Constance an encouraging smile. “When can you both move in?”
Another nervous laugh escaped Constance’s lips. “We don’t have much to move.”
“Tomorrow it is, then.” Faith sat forward. “Would you like some tea?”
Constance seemed overwhelmed. “Yes, please.” Andrea watched her roommate walk to the kitchen. She arched a brow at Constance. “I probably should have warned you that Faith can be pushy. And you’ll be on your own with her until Tuesday. I’m leaving for Cleveland to cover the first two Monarchs games tomorrow.”
Constance tucked her little girl closer to her. “Why are you two doing this?”
Andrea ran her hand over the orange and yellow afghan that covered the sofa’s fraying back. “I lived at the shelter once, too.”
Constance’s jaw dropped. She searched Andrea’s face. “You did?”
Andrea nodded. “My problem wasn’t an abusive husband. It was something else. Faith and her friend took me in when I was trying to get back on my feet.”
Constance sighed. “I just hope you don’t regret this.”
“We won’t.” Andrea settled back into the lumpy sofa. A couple of years ago, she’d been in a similar situation to Constance. It felt good to now be in a position to help the other woman. Pay it forward.
It also was becoming easier to face her past. Was she finally getting to the point where she could forgive herself for her mistakes? When would she be certain she wouldn’t ever repeat them?
7
“Barron Douglas is going drinking again tonight.” Faith’s announcement startled Andrea. Her roommate curled up onto the sofa and settled her sketchbook on her lap
She gaped at Faith from the tan love seat. “How did you know?”
Faith drew a circle in the air with her index finger as though tracing Andrea’s face. “You’re gnawing on your lower lip and staring at your cell phone. That’s what you usually do when Barron tweets that he’s going clubbing.”
Disappointed by the mundane explanation, Andrea returned her attention to her cell phone.
She’d driven Constance and Tiffany back to the shelter hours ago. But the tiny apartment still smelled of their pasta dinner with a hint of Tiffany’s French fries. It also was almost surprisingly quiet without the chatty toddler.
Andrea glanced up from her phone. “The team’s settled into their hotel in Cleveland. Barron sent a Twitter message asking for nightclub recommendations.”
Faith crossed her right leg over her left. “There’s nothing you can do about that. He’s in Cleveland. You aren’t flying out until tomorrow.”
Andrea heard the concern in Faith’s voice. She set her cell phone beside her on the love seat and met her friend’s troubled gaze. “Barron’s in trouble.”
“You’ve been saying that for months. I know you’re worried, but he doesn’t want your help. Besides, he has his teammates around him. You can ease up on the Barron Douglas Watch.”
