Page 110 of Facing the Enemy

“I’m going with you. We’re partners.”

“Gage, this is a ministry call. You’re right. I might be a while, but if I bake chocolate chip cookies with some of the birth moms, I’ll bring you one. I’ll text you when I arrive. Wait here if you like or lock up when you leave.”

“And I’ll text you to ensure you’re fine.”

“I’d expect no less.”

“And if you don’t respond, I’m calling in the cavalry.” I was overreacting. Right?

62

RISA

I entered Houston Healing and Hope Maternity Care with my senses on alert and caution in my spirit. An instrumental version of “Deck the Halls” played quietly in the reception area, and a modestly trimmed Christmas tree with ornaments of singing angels and clear bulbs hung from the branches. A miniature Nativity scene perched on an unattended desk while the scent of cinnamon filled the air. Festive. Tasteful. Gifts rested under the tree all wrapped the same in red paper and white bows.

“Hello, anyone around?” I said.

Anna Wright bustled in from her office. “Welcome to Houston Healing and Hope Maternity Care. Merry Christmas.” Her face brightened “Oh, you’re from Mercy Point Church.”

“You have a good memory.” I stuck out my hand, and she grasped it firmly. Her hand wasn’t clammy. “Risa Jacobs.”

“How can I help you?” She peered around me. “Are others with you?”

“No, just me.” I pointed to the decorations. “This is beautiful.”

“Thank you. The girls did the decorations.”

“I know you’re busy, which is why I’m here. It’s Christmas, and I wanted to invite you, the birth mothers, and any staff or volunteersto our Christmas Eve service. It’s at seven thirty, and we have shuttles that could transport anyone interested.”

Ms. Wright rubbed her palms together. “How lovely. Our driver is off for the evening, and the transportation would be a blessing. I’ll check with the girls and staff. I’m sure they’d enjoy ushering in our Lord’s birth with a special service.”

I’d seen tough women lie their way through interviews, interrogations, and all the way to the witness stand. Some of those leather-hearted women still walked the streets. Others spent their days behind bars. I shouldn’t judge, but the diamond on Anna’s right hand wasn’t purchased at Walmart.

“Gorgeous ring,” I said.

“Thank you, Risa. My mother passed recently, and I inherited this beautiful piece that came from her grandmother.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Were you close?” The setting sparkled like new.

“Very much so until dementia struck. She went downhill fast and was often incoherent. I keep telling myself to sell it and put the money into the home.”

“I’m sure your mother would want you to keep it. I imagine you had good times to help with your grief. I lost my brother in July. Very hard. Some days are worse than others, and these firsts are difficult—holidays and birthdays. When I least expect it, a memory sends me spiraling.” None of my words were fabricated.

Ms. Wright adjusted an angel on the tree. “God is close to the brokenhearted. We’ll make it through this season.”

“Yes, we will. Is the home full?”

Ms. Wright turned with a glint in her eyes. “Yes. As always, we’ve planned a Christmas Day feast, and your church has been so generous in contributing food and a gift for each birth mother.”

“The faith aspect is one blessing you provide here. Do you hear from past women? I often wonder how they’re doing.”

“Sometimes they visit, and it’s always a joy to see them.”

“Can I walk through and wish the residents a merry Christmas? Pray with them?”

“Many of them are napping during the afternoon.”

“When would be a good time to come back? Tomorrow afternoon?”