Father. It’s about my kids… at the center.”
“Ah, yes the center, a fine institution.”
“Yes, well, we’ve run into some financial trouble recently, and I was kind of hoping...”
At that, Father Callihan’s face fell, and suddenly he could no longer look her in the eye. “Times are tough on everyone around here, Gabriella. Believe me, I’d really like to help you out, but I don’t know what I can do.”
“Could you lend us some money? We’ll pay you back, I promise,” she said, grasping for something to stop the descent into hopelessness, but she wondered even as she said it how they would ever get the money to pay the church back.
He smiled again. This time it had pity attached to it. “Gabriella, you’re a wonderful person. And I know how much you love those kids, but right now, we aren’t in a position to be able to help anyone else out financially. I hope you understand.”
She sat there without knowing what to say or how to say it. She could feel her miracle slipping through her fingers. “Are you sure, Father?”
“Believe me, we would help if we could.”
The church’s chapel called to her as she walked by it, and knowing no other option, Gabi pushed the door open slowly. The space was empty with only a dim light on the seats and a bright one on the tabernacle. She made her way down the aisle to the front row and knelt down. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she brushed them away.
“Hi, God, it’s me, Gabriella Treyvillion.” The sniff was soft but audible. “It’s been awhile, I know. I’m sorry about that, but, listen, God, right now I could really use Your help. See, there’s this center for kids — where I work, and well, we’re kind of in some trouble — money wise, you know? Now, normally I wouldn’t come to you about money problems, but this one’s important. See, there’re a lot of kids who rely on that center, and if we close, well, the truth is, I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to them. I’m willing to do whatever I need to, if You’ll just show me what that is.”
She paused and looked up, waiting for an answer that did not come. “Okay, God.” The sigh slid through her as frustration took its place. “Look, I know I’m probably the last person You want to help right now, but believe me, I’m not asking for me. These kids really need a miracle, and they need it fast. All I ask is that You point me in the right direction. Please. Just point me in the right direction.”
When she walked out, Gabi wasn’t sure what she’d expected. But whatever it was, it didn’t happen. The sad and unavoidable truth was, she was alone in this fight. Not even God wanted to help her. She took a deep breath and went home to face the applications totally alone.
He’d tried. All day long, Andrew had tried to get her out of his head, but she was still there. Every time he turned around, she was there, looking at him with those soft dark eyes. And then she was gone. It was like playing tag with a ghost — one minute they’re there, the next minute... poof!
By nightfall, Gabi had finished three grant applications and was halfway through the fourth one. It was a very good thing that writing was one of her strong suits, she thought as she began the essay on the fourth one. These kids deserved a chance. They needed this place. And now somehow she had to convince someone she would never even meet of that fact in 1,000 words or less.
“Andrew? What’re you doing here?” Bryan asked when he found his younger brother standing on the front porch.
“I don’t know.” Andrew shrugged. “Just a little bored, I guess. If this is a bad time,…”
“No, of course not.” Bryan stuck out his hand to shake Andrew’s. “Come on in. You know you’re always welcome.”
“Well, Andrew.” In her naturally regal style, Pam came down the staircase. “This is a surprise.”
“Hi, Pam. I was just driving around, and I guess I ended up here. I hope you