Last week, we shared Chapter Two of noted author Katherine Valentine’s newest inspirational novel.  Join us each Monday as we watch this incredible story unfold.

• Chapter One
• Chapter Two

Sweet Dreams – Chapter Three

Arlene Fields just couldn’t get Emma and her troubles off of her mind. She and Em had been friends since their two boys had started kindergarten.

Arlene and her then fresh out of medical school husband, Ira had just moved into town and knew no one. She was outgoing, loved people and missed what had once been an active social life. But the offer for Ira to join a highly prized medical team of cardiologists and heart surgeons had been too good to dismiss. She had fully supported Ira’s decision while keeping the growing sense of isolation to herself.

Just when she was beginning to believe that she might very well die of boredom, she had met Emma Smith.

Their first meeting took place at her son, Phillip’s school. It was an open house where parents came to meet and greet the teacher and to learn about the year’s upcoming curriculum. As soon as she had pinned on her nametag and noticed the other women carrying an assortment of cakes and cookies, she was struck with a sharp pang of guilt.

Phillip had been trustworthy in delivering his teacher’s note which asked parents to bring baked goods for tonight’s event. She, however, had not been so trustworthy in remembering to stop at the local Publix Market and purchasing one. Arlene didn’t bake.

Then a woman stepped into line behind her, carrying a large white cake box.

As they neared the refreshment table, she turned to confide to the pleasant looking woman that she had forgotten to bring a dessert and joked, “I hope that doesn’t mean my son will be passed over for monitor duty.”

The woman laughed then side-stepped around Arlene to hand her cake to a supersize lady in charge of the baked goods. “This is from Emma Smith and….” She glanced at Arlene’s name tag. “Arlene Fields.”

The woman opened the cake box and lifted out a beautifully decorated, four layer coconut crème cake.

“Oh, my, this is lovely,” she said, setting the cake in the middle of the display table. “Thank you ladies. I’m certain that the other parents will really enjoy this.”

“You actually ‘made’ that?” Arlene asked, following Emma to a grouping of pint-size chairs.

“I like to bake,” she said with a shrug.

From that day forward, she and Emma were the best of friends. But unfortunately, neither she nor Ira could stomach her husband, Jerry.

In the beginning, the couples had gone out to dinner a few times. But one night on the way home, Ira declared he had had enough.

“Did you hear him go on and on about his new watch. ‘It displays all twenty-five time zones’, he mimicked. “Now, why would I need to know the correct time in New Zealand.

“Besides always insisting that he pickup the check, I’m tired of listening to him go to great lengths to extol about his importance at the bank, or the superiority of his Mercedes versus my Lexus. Then there are the off-colored stories about the members of his exclusive country club.”

Ira shook his head. “Poor Emma. Did you see her studying her wine? She looked like she wished the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. I’m sorry, my love, but count me out next time.”

After that Arlene made excuses whenever Emma hinted that Jerry wanted them to join them for dinner. Finally, she just stopped asking, but Arlene got the feeling that deep down Emma understood which was probably why she always came alone to their holiday parties.

Down through the years, Ira never once inquired why Jerry was absent; so it took Arlene by surprise when this past year he asked if Jerry was coming.

“I doubt it. Why do you ask?”

Ira had been working to untangle the box of Fairy lights that was used to decorate the two potted plants by the front door, paused and looked out into space.

“He’s been on my mind a lot later. I saw him a few weeks ago. Walked right past me without saying hello.”

“Maybe he had something on his mind. You know how crazy it gets for most of us this time of year.”

“Maybe, but he sure was acting nervous. He kept looking back over his shoulder like he was afraid he was being followed.”

Ira went back to the lights. “It was just rather strange, is all.”

When the news came out that Jerry Smith had disappeared along with a great deal of cash, Arlene remembered that conversation. Thinking back, Jerry probably had reason to fear he was being followed that day. He was probably already stashing away wads of cash, she mused, pushing open the glass door with large, etched letters that read, Midway Cardiologists. Ira Fields, Chief Physician.

The two young women who manned the reception desk waved her into their inner sanctum as she stepped through the door.

“Come see what we’ve bought Dr. Simmons,” the girls cried.

They were all huddled around a handsome Monte Blanc pen inscribed with the doctor’s initials. Ira’s colleague, Arnold Simmons was retiring the first of next month and Arlene was handling the retirement party.

She examined the pen up close. “This is lovely. I’m sure he’ll treasure it.”

“You’d better put that away. Arnold is right behind me.”

All three jumped.

“Ira, you scared us half to death,” she admonished.

He planted a warm kiss on her check, enlisting a chorus of ‘aaahhhs’ from the young girls. He smiled good-naturedly.

“Don’t you ladies have something you should be doing?”

“Yes, doctor,” they said in chorus and scattered.

“I have that list of names you need for the invitations,” he told his wife. “It’s on my desk.”

Arlene followed Ira to his office that she jokingly referred to as a study in disorganization; yet she knew that if questioned, he could find whatever he needed in a snap. He handed her a sheet of names, then drew up two chairs. Arlene had overseen similar functions. Ira knew he could trust her to make it a memorable event.

For the next thirty minutes, they discussed the wording for the invitations, flower arrangements (Ira would have preferred there were none. Too, fussy, he said, but she overrode him) and reviewed the luncheon menu, all of which was charted in a brown leather events journal.

In closing, it was decided that Ira would take care of the gift, a set of monogrammed golf clubs.

“I would like to ask Emma to provide the cake,” Arlene said, filing a small leather bound notebook that held all the details inside her tote. “She could use the money.”

“That’s a great idea,” Ira standing to stretch. “Funny you should mention her name. I just happened to think about her during Shachari this morning and offered up a prayer.”

“That’s lovely. Thank you. Em could use all the prayers she can get.”

Ira attended daily services at Temple Shalom and had just been asked to join the Board of Finance. Since synagogues were financed through membership, not by collection plates as in churches, Ira would help to oversee annual dues and the purchase of reserved seats for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

“I still can’t believe the mess Jerry left that poor woman in,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You and me both,” Arlene said, bitterly. “I dropped in to see her on the way over. She was crying her eyes out. The bank served her the final notice on the house. She has ten days to get out or the sheriff will physically remove her and move her belonging out on the street.”

“What’s she going to do?”
”
“I don’t know,” she said, her face tight with concern for her best friend. “I’m really worried, Ira. She has no place to go. I offered her our guest room, but she won’t take it.”

“Have her talk to Sadie Kaufman,” he said. “She belongs to our synagogue. She also heads the social service department here at the hospital. She’s an incredibly sharp woman with a heart of gold. If anyone can help Em find a place to live, she can. She can also connect her with other social service programs.”

“Oh, Ira…that’s a great idea!” She flew out of her chair and planted a huge kiss on his lips.

“Well…” he said, leaning back in his chair with a wide grin. “I should try to come up with more brilliant ideas.”

For the first time since learning of Emma’s problem, Arlene felt a surge of hope. She stuffed the guest list inside her purse, gathered the journal and scrambled out the door, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll catch up with you later. I need to talk to Sadie and find out how soon she can see Emma.”

When Emma got home after another unproductive day of job hunting, there was a message from Arlene on her answering machine.

“Em, I’ve got some great news. I spoke to a woman whose name is Sadie Kaufman. She’s a social worker at the hospital. Ira has known her for years. Anyway, I stopped by her office, and we had a little talk about your situation. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t give her your name.

“She’s offered to help you file for Public Assistance and sigh up for a HUD housing voucher. Apparently, there are certain apartment houses subsidized by the state that you can rent on a sliding scale basis. But she’ll explain all of that when you call. Her number is 889-6500, extension 2213. I hope this helps.

“Oh…I almost forgot. If I were to purchase all the ingredients, would you be up to baking a cake for Arnold Simmons’s retirement party, but only if you let us pay you. You can’t afford to keep baking cakes for free. Give me a call and we’ll discuss the particulars.”

Emma dialed Sadie Kaufman’s number without bothering to take off her coat.

“You must be Arlene’s friend,” Sadie said in a bright, clear voice that filled Emma with hope. “She wouldn’t divulge your name, of course. So, I’m glad that you decided to call. Now, I understand that you’re experiencing some personal challenges. How can I help?”

How could she help? The offer brought tears to her eyes.

She quickly explained her situation, emphasizing how she had been searching for work but without any luck. She didn’t want the woman to think that she was a deadbeat or just looking for a handout. She wanted above all else to be independent. But at this moment, she couldn’t see how.

“I know how frightening all this must be for you, but don’t get discouraged,” Sadie said with the confidence that comes with years of assisting people in similar situations.

“There’s help out there. You just have to know where to look for it and since it’s my job to know, you’ve come to the right place. Now, let’s start with your immediate needs. How are you on food or heat?”

“We’re all right for the moment. Oil tank is half full and I have about ten dollars left in cash, but there’s food in the pantry. I stockpiled whenever I saw a sale. If my son doesn’t mind eating pasta and canned soups, we’ll be okay for awhile.”

“Tell me about your housing situation. Arlene mentioned that you’re home is coming into foreclosure. How soon will you need to vacate?”

Emma glanced at the big black ‘x’ on the wall calendar. “Ten days.”

“That doesn’t give us much time, but as I told Arlene, there happens to be a unit at the housing projects on Maple Street that’s just opened up. It’s pretty basic, one bedroom…maybe one of you can sleep on a couch…a living room kitchen combo, but it will keep you and your son off the streets. Meanwhile, give me the name of your bank. I’ll see if I can get you an extension.”

Emma relayed the information.

“Since time is of the essence, why don’t we meet at your house tomorrow, say at six? I get off here at five.”

“That would be fine.” Emma gave her the address.

“We’ll fill out some paperwork, and I’ll explain the types of programs that are out there and if you’d like, I’ll set up an appointment with the supervisor at the housing project so we can tour the apartment. How does that sound?”

It sounded wonderful. Someone had just thrown out a safety net. She was no longer in danger of falling off a cliff.

She finally removed her coat, pumped up the thermostat two more decrees. She kept it on sixty to conserve fuel.

A school friend of Benjamin’s would be dropping him off shortly. It didn’t matter that he was eighteen and was just a few months away from graduating high school; she still liked to have a snack ready when he got home.

She removed the remainder of a half gallon of milk from the refrigerator, a canister of dark chocolate from the cabinet, a bottle of vanilla extract and a bowl of sugar. Packaged foods were an enigma to Emma. She felt that everything tasted better made from scratch. With practiced skill, she quickly mixed her special blend of homemade hot chocolate in a saucepan and began to stir.

As the first sweet scent of chocolate filled the kitchen, her mind wandered back to the chance meeting with Father Joe. Could this sudden answer to her most urgent needs had been one of those ‘God-incidences’?

What had Father Joe said? That God often replies to our needs by sending a series of seemingly random events that helps to propel us towards the answers we seek. She heard a car pull into the driveway, followed by her son’s voice. She took down a mug and set it on the counter, suddenly feeling less alone.

One week later, Emma stood in the middle of an empty apartment that reeked of urine and a sickening sweet smell that she couldn’t place, reminding herself that she should be thankful that Sadie had found her a place so quickly.

Sadie took a disinfectant wipe and cleaned off a section of kitchen counter that was thick with grease (at least that’s what Emma hoped it was) and began the laborious task of filing out the endless reams of forms that society’s poor were subject to whenever they asked for help.

Emma tried hard to keep her eyes steady on Sadie, not the bug that was crawling up the wall.

“I think that should do it,” Sadie said, removing her reading glasses to let them dangle from a thick chain.

“So, this is all mine, now,” Emma said, taking a stab at levity, although her mind was locked in dread at having to live in a place that stank and had bugs crawling up the walls. What would Benjamin say when he found out that this was to be his new home?

“Emma…?”

She shook her heard, trying to loosen the tangle of thoughts. “Sorry, I was someplace else.”

“I understand. This is hardly what you’re used to.” Sadie had visited their current home. “But don’t let it get you down. Think of it as a bridge between where you are now and where you want to be in a year or two from now.”

“I wish I knew where that was,” Emma sighed.

“Give yourself some time. Things will work out.”

“Can I have that in writing?” Right now the future was looking pretty grim.

“Don’t look at how far you have to go. Look at how far you’ve already come just in a few short weeks,” she reminded Emma. “When you first came to see me you were about to be evicted and didn’t have a place to stay. You had no financial resources and now you have. And although this is not the Ritz, I’m confident that with your taste, you’ll make it your own. You’ll be surprised what a coat of paint will do. And for those financial needs…”

Sadie pulled out an envelope form her purse. “Here’s your first ration of food stamps. It works out to about sixty-dollars a week. I know that’s not a lot, especially with a teenage son in the house, so I’ve jotted down the address to the food pantry. It’s about two blocks from here. It will help at the end of the month when your stamps run out.”

Food stamps. Subsidized apartments in the less than desirable section of town. Emma walked over to the only window in the living-dining room-kitchen area and tried to harness the sudden surge of hatred directed at Jerry.

He was the one responsible for their having to live here be reduced to accepting food stamps to survive. He was the one who had taken apart their world brick by brick and left them in rubble. He was the one who had abandoned them, leaving them alone to fend for themselves.

Sadie stuffed the paperwork inside a satchel already thick with folders and handed Emma a key.

“This is all yours now,” she said, smiling. “I’ll deliver the signed lease to the agent and have the utilities transferred over. If you want a phone, that will have to be on your dime, but if you can’t afford one, there’s a pay phone in the vestibule downstairs that the tenants use.”

Sadie glanced around the apartment one last time. “Are you going to be all right?”

Emma nodded, forcing back the fear that was growing like kudzu, choking off her air supply.

How would she ever manage alone? It was a terrible shock to discover that at forty-two, she had never opened a bank account, filed taxes or worked out a budget by herself. What if she didn’t have the skills? Yet, she couldn’t fail. She had a son depending on her. With all her inadequacies, she was all he had.

“Thank you for all you’ve done,” she told Sadie, walking her to the door. “I don’t know how I would have managed without your help.”

“My pleasure,” Sadie said, placing a hand on her arm. “I know that you’re scared, but remember the saying that goes, What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger?”

Emma smiled. “Yes.”

“Believe it or not, when this is over, you’re going to find strengths that you never knew you had. You’ll be a better woman for it. I promise.”

Emma felt that might yet have to be proven. Right now, she felt like curling up with a blanket on her living room sofa (which was about to be repossessed along with most of the furniture Jerry had insisted they buy on time) and withdraw from the human race.

But as comforting as that thought might seem, it wasn’t an option. Benjamin had already been abandoned by one parent.

“If you have any questions, you know where to find me,” Sadie said, then disappeared down the hall.

Emma waited until her footsteps faded before giving way to the tears.

Join us next Monday for the next chapter of Sweet Dreams by Katherine Valentine.

• Chapter One
• Chapter Two

Copyright 2009 Katherine Valentine

Katherine Valentine’s widely read novels explore God’s response to our prayers in times of need. They include:  A Miracle for St. Cecilia’s; A Gathering of Angels; Grace Will Lead Me Home; On a Wing and a Prayer; The County Fair and The Haunted Rectory. All can be found in major bookstores and on-line.