Valerie looked up. “I’m living in a shelter,” she said, then sighed. “I wanted so much more for myself, you know? I was determined to keep my baby, to do right by her—but then, after she was born, and I was alone, with no one, no money, no nothing at all, I just—snapped. Saw my life and what it was going to look like. Saw all the other women with children living in the shelter and how bleak it was for them. Suddenly I decided my daughter—I called her Julia—should have a chance at something better.” She put her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook for a while. Her crying was silent but intense, like an inward scream. It didn’t draw attention. “I got so scared. I made a mistake. I thought maybe—I had this idea that I could leave her with someone who would find her a good life, and I could still finish high school and go to college and be someone—that we could both be someone, even if we had to do that separately. I decided that if she stayed with me we would both be no one. That maybe we would even starve. I decided I was making a sacrifice and that it was for her own good. I believed it—but how could I? I woke up this morning and I realized I was never going to be anyone without her. So I came back—and she’s gone.”
Sister Margaret Jean said, “I’m going to help you.” She was thinking fast now, talking fast, too, so she couldn’t change her mind. Thinking of the money she had in a bank account she had never told anyone about, the money she should have given to the church but had not. This was even better. “Find an apartment, come back to the parish, bring me to see it, and I’ll pay the rent. Finish high school. We’ll meet weekly until you do and figure out the plan after that.”
Valerie’s green eyes were wide. “But why? Why are you helping me?”
“My visions are always a call for me to do something. I’m going to support you. Ensure that in giving up your child you were not sacrificing your own life. That you are indeed going to be someone.”
For a moment, Valerie narrowed those brilliant green eyes. Sister Margaret Jean thought she might begin to question her motives, but she didn’t. She just nodded and went back to her breakfast.
“What would you most like to be?” Sister Margaret Jean finally asked Valerie.
“I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer,” Valerie answered, her eyes still on her plate. “Maybe even a judge, or a district attorney, or, I don’t know. Something big.”
“Don’t let go of that dream,” Sister Margaret Jean said. “See about the apartment. We’ll meet back here on the first of every month. Do we have a deal?”
Valerie nodded. “Yes,” she said.
And so it began.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Someone was shining a bright light in Lucky’s face. She opened her eyes with difficulty. Her head felt like it had been hit with a mallet. The bright light, she realized, was the sun. She had fallen asleep in one of Gloria’s deck chairs. She looked down and saw that she had dropped her wallet. Everything had spilled out across the deck. She picked up Reyes’s card, the fives from the grocery store cashier, a few of her ID cards. Then she got down on all fours, suddenly panicked, and started scrabbling around. Her lottery ticket. It was gone.
“Gloria?” she called out, standing. She checked inside her bra, turned out her pockets, but the ticket wasn’t there.
“Hello?” She knocked on Gloria’s door, but there was no answer. She tried the handle; it was unlocked. Inside, all was dim and quiet. It smelled like peach room spray. Gloria’s bed was unmade and empty. There were dirty dishes and wineglasses in the sink. A liquor bottle on the counter that said “100 proof” on the label.
Lucky ran to the office trailer, but it was empty, too. She picked up the phone and tried Gloria’s cell phone but it went straight to voicemail.
With a shaking hand, she dialed Reyes’s number.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Hey, I’ve been trying to call you at the camp! I spoke to Gloria a few times, but she always said you were busy. Did she give you any of my messages?”
“No. She didn’t.”
“How are things going?”
“Not well,” Lucky managed. The room was spinning and she thought she might throw up. She gripped the counter.
“Listen, I’m actually only about two hours away. And I’ve got your dad with me. They let him out! I’ll explain everything soon. See you in a bit.”
* * *
Betty’s barking alerted Lucky to their arrival. She stood and left the office trailer, a little steadier on her feet now after drinking half the contents of Gloria’s water cooler.
Reyes got out of the SUV and Betty followed, bounding forward, delighted. Lucky leaned down and greeted her, feeling relief for a moment. But it didn’t last.
“Your dad’s fallen asleep. We’ve been on the road for days. He’s exhausted. Let’s let him rest. You can catch me up on how things are going here.”
“Come inside, then. I’m going to make coffee.”
Betty stayed by her side. Inside, Lucky found the Folgers tin and spooned coffee into a filter, turned the machine on, kept herself busy in the corner of the office, trying to figure out what to say to Reyes. When the coffee was ready, she poured two cups. “We don’t have milk or even sugar. Black okay?”
“Sure.”
They went outside and sat in rickety lawn chairs that had been abandoned in front of the office. Betty curled up at Lucky’s feet.
“So, tell me how things went with Gloria.”
“You tell me first, what happened with John?”
“It was so fast,” Reyes said. “I got a call right after I dropped you off. The court date was the next day.” Lucky shot a glance at Reyes’s SUV, where her father—no, not her father, where John Armstrong—was asleep in the front seat, his head tilted to one side, his mouth open. He looked like a very old man. Like a stranger. Which was what he was to her, now. “It was quickly determined he’d done his time for his actual crimes already, and the third-strike clause was waived. So, there he is.”
“Great,” Lucky said.
“You don’t sound all that happy. Are you okay?”
“I found out that he’s not my dad,” she said.
“What?”
The SUV’s door opened. Betty barked. John was awake, and had exited the car. He was looking around, bewildered. Reyes stood up. Voice low, she said to Lucky, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it might be best not to tell him what you just said to me right now. He’s really slipping, is confused a lot of the time. He needs to see a doctor, but he wanted to see you first.”
Reyes turned and jogged toward the car. “Hey, John! It’s all right. I’m right here. And look, I brought you to Lucky!”
His face lit up the moment he saw her. All the anger Lucky felt dissipated for a moment. She heard Cary’s voice in her mind now, telling her that when John finally did get out of prison he would be a different person, completely lost to her. But in this moment, with his eyes lit up like that, he was the man she remembered.
And then, he wasn’t. Because she knew the truth now. He was lost to her. And Gloria was gone, and so was the lottery ticket. She couldn’t handle it. She was finally broken. She had to choke back a sob.