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Someone to Lean On

By Carrie Walker

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Chapter One

She’d been swimming against the current all her life, but finally the shoreline was in view.
Lucia Roberts stepped away from the customer service desk at Baby Things and More and roamed the racks, organizing the tiny outfits by size. Barren ice-covered trees lined the streets outside the store, and a chill had seeped inside the building. The tips of her fingers were cold, but she focused on work.
After a year and a half, she had mastered the phones and the art of customer assistance. Now Lucia claimed every opportunity to help in other departments. She straightened her shoulders and smiled.
Soon her boss would notice the effort.
She and her daughter had a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs and, if she kept to the plan, soon they’d leave the extended foster care system for good. In six months, Lucia turned twenty-one, and she’d age out of the program, but she had every intention of leaving before that happened. Lucia picked up a fallen pair of snow boots. Sam needs new boots. Next paycheck.
Only a few employees wearing the same baby-pink shirt as hers, and a sprinkling of customers, dotted the quaint store. Lucia walked the misplaced boots to the shoe section near the side wall, flicking her gaze to the welcome desk. No customers waited.
The door chimed, and a rush of winter wind dropped the temperature again. A guy looking a few years older than Lucia entered. She eyed the entrance, waiting for a mom-to-be. No one followed.
A single guy alone in a baby and toddler store? Odd.
He stood there in jeans and a blue sweater over a collared shirt, staring at the vacant front desk with pursed lips. Whoops. She was supposed to greet customers. Lucia swallowed and
hurried toward the front of the store. “I’m coming!”
The guy did a slow spin, clearly not hearing her and searching for help. Before she reached him, he heaved a sigh and stalked into the aisles.
Her breath caught.
Dark brown hair woven into tight curls highlighted his mesmerizing hazel eyes. Impossibly attractive. And he’d disappeared among the baby items. Upset.
A pleasant, woodsy scent lingered near the front desk. She shook off her stupor and scrambled in the direction Mr. Goodlooks had headed. Safety items. The disgruntled man stood in the baby monitor aisle, surrounded by four boxes, brow furrowed. The poor guy looked overwhelmed. Relatable. “Can I help you?”
The overhead speakers unleashed static, followed by her manager’s voice. “Lucia Roberts to the employee lounge at three o’clock.” Her stomach jumped to her throat. Usually, when the manager paged an employee to the lounge without warning, it wasn’t good.
She shot her gaze to the clock. Two fifty-five.
Five minutes. Her heart pounded. Keep going. There’s no reason to worry yet.
Mr. Goodlooks tapped his foot and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss, did you hear what I said?” He frowned and crossed his arms.
Heat balled in her stomach and rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was distracted.” Oh goodness. She didn’t owe him an explanation. Help the guy and go find out what her boss wanted. Lucia shivered. Someone needed to turn up the thermostat. It was twenty degrees outside today. She tilted her head. “Where’s your coat?” The words slipped out.
His hands flew in the air. “Never mind. I’ll find it myself.” He spun and rifled through more monitors on the shelf.
Lucia's insides tugged her toward the guy she’d been no assistance to, but the pending meeting pulled harder. She checked the time again. The minute hand rested a hair behind the hour mark. Her mouth dried. It was time.
With one last glance at the handsome man’s back, Lucia
headed toward the employee lounge. The clicking of her flats echoed through the store. She swung the door open and held her breath.
A single fluorescent light flickered over her boss, Julie, who sat at a small table for two. Her lips pressed in a straight line, and her brown eyes lacked their usual sparkle. A buzz emanated through the slight space, tingling Lucia’s nerves like an army of ants crawling up her neck. Trembles worked their way through her as she took the opposite seat. “You wanted to meet with me?” Her voice squeaked.
Her boss gave her a familiar head tilt, followed by a painful pause. Ouch. Yep, the minutes ahead would not be good. Lucia steeled herself.
Julie straightened. “I’m sure you know how hard the economy has hit small businesses in the past year.” She glanced at Lucia, then focused on her folded hands. “I hate this.”
The air vacated Lucia’s lungs. She swallowed, frozen in place.
“The business owner told me this morning they’re transitioning to an automated phone system. Tomorrow.” Her boss of a year and a half sighed. “We have to let you go. I’m sorry.”
No. Another wave of life came crashing at her, dragging her down. The room swirled. Automated phone system? Was it possible to replace a person so quickly with a computer? She did more than answer the phone. Who would greet the customers and work the floor?
Julie’s resigned expression kept her from asking those questions. The vent rumbled, and a rush of warm, stale air swept the room. Lucia covered the sides of her head to stop the spinning. “Is there any other position I could fill here? I’ll take a pay cut, but I have to work at least eighty hours a month.”
Another head tilt accompanied by a sigh. “We know you’re in a tough spot, and I feel terrible. I wish there was more we could do. List me as a recommendation on your job applications. I’ll give you a good one.”
Lucia’s mouth dropped open, but she clamped it shut, unable to speak.
Julie stood and extended her hand. “We wish you the best, Lucia. There’s a box in the corner where you can pack your personal effects. Again, I’m so sorry.”
Her body moved as if independent of her mind, shaking Julie’s hand, forcing a smile, then staring as the woman left her alone in the vacant space. Numb. She glanced at the clock. Five after three. In five brief minutes she’d gone from an employed single mother with secure housing to standing in the employee lounge, jobless, with an empty box waiting to hold the shattered pieces of her life.
Lucia’s heart raced. If she hurried, she could get home and talk with the program coordinator without Samantha overhearing. See how long she had to find another job before they’d lose their housing.
Walking on shaky legs, she exited the lounge, gaze trained to the floor, empty box in hand. The stares of her ex-coworkers burned into her back. Warmth swept across her cheeks, but she pushed through the last steps to the front desk.
This space had taken on a personality of its own during Lucia’s time here. Her personality. She reached for a picture from high school graduation with Kris, her foster mom, squeezing in close. Lucia wore her blue cap and gown, with a six-month-pregnant stomach, and a face-filling grin.
Since that moment, every choice had been for her child.
She placed the picture in the box, along with a daily music trivia calendar, and paused at the photo of Sam on her third birthday, a brilliant smile covering her heart-shaped face. Running her finger over the silver frame, Lucia’s heart ached.
If only she could promise her daughter a childhood without the struggles she’d known. After experiencing their own place, she couldn’t imagine returning to a group home. The last one had almost ruined her life. She shook her head. No. She’d kept Sam out of those this long, she would find a way.
Last, the portable coffee mug Bridget, the closest thing she had to a sister, had given her. God gave us music that we might pray without words wrapped around the front in purple scripted font. Lucia paused as the words sank in. During a couple of
moments in her life God had shone so bright she couldn’t question His existence.
Most of the time though, it seemed as if He preferred to see how well she could swim in the deep end of the ocean without a life raft.
With an empty desk before her, she blinked back the sting and slipped into her black puffy winter coat and gloves. The store had served her well, providing stability in an uncertain life. She hugged the box tighter and stepped into the unknown. Again.
On the walk to the bus stop, an icy gust stole her breath. By the time the bus slowed in front of her, the contents of her box rattled along with her shivers. The automated door swung open, inviting her to the warmth. She hurried in and scanned her pass.
Looking past the patrons who barely noticed her arrival, she shimmied down the aisle with her box. An empty seat awaited, a few feet past the section of standing passengers. Lucia plunked down and thrust in her earbuds, ready to find solace in music.
Her fingers worked on autopilot, seeking the song that had carried her for years. As Michael W. Smith’s words about finding a place in this world filled her ears, the hairs on the back of her neck raised. Sensing eyes on her, Lucia scanned the riders and stopped on a man of medium build standing near the front of the bus. Blue sweater, mesmerizing hazel eyes. The guy from the store. For a moment, his focused stare drew her in.
Another set of hazel eyes flashed in her mind.
She jerked her attention away and gripped the box. No. If there was one area where Lucia was queen, it was attracting the wrong men.
As the vehicle rumbled down the street, jolting her with each stop, the man kept watching. Maybe it was a coincidence. He’d been shopping at her place of employment. Lucia studied his hands, then the floor at his feet. No bags. He hadn’t bought a thing. Maybe he’d followed her out of the store.
Each time her gaze flitted to him, his attention remained on her. Her stomach flipped. The man might be attractive, but his focused attention made her wary.
With her gaze fixated on the exit, her chest tightened. Since
he stood at the front, she’d have to walk past him on the way out. Please God, let him get off first.
Three stops later, he remained, standing and eying her . . . and she needed to go.
With a tight grasp on the box, she hurried toward the exit, forcing her view away from the man. So focused on hightailing it off the bus, she caught her foot on something. Lucia stumbled and fell. The box flew out of her hands, scattering its contents across the floor.
Her knee throbbed, but she shoved herself forward, scrambling for her belongings. Where was the picture of Samantha? The silver frame poked out beside a woman standing behind the driver. As she reached for it, a flash of blue swept the edge of her vision. Woodsy cologne sent her heart hammering.
The man was closing in, leaning toward her.
She jerked out of reach, grabbed the photo, and ran with her box toward the exit. A loud thump paired with a sickening snap jerked her attention back. The man from the store had fallen and held his ankle. As the automatic doors closed in front of her, something about his painful grimace sent twinging needles to her heart.
His forehead scrunched over eyes filled with questions as he watched her leave. The man wore confusion and surprise in place of the coat he’d clearly forgotten. Maybe she’d read him wrong—and injured him in the process.
Another banner day in Lucia’s life. Sorry, mister. But he really shouldn’t stare at women he didn’t know.
Lucia hurried through the bitter cold until she reached the dorm housing. Home. Courtesy of the government, this form of extended foster care provided semi-independent living. The very same program she’d planned to leave, she now prayed would keep her longer. Tension spread through her neck and shoulders, and she pushed through the main office door.
Paneled walls and the hum of a space heater welcomed her. The housing coordinator, who swiveled back and forth in her chair twirling her frizzy hair, didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Lucia sucked in a quick breath and perched on the chair opposite
her. She set the box beside her on the floor. No sense in dragging this out. “They cut my job at the store.”
The swiveling stopped, and the chair squeaked as the woman leaned forward on the desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“How long do I have before this job loss becomes a problem?” Lucia clenched and unclenched her hands.
“Extended foster care arrangements have stringent guidelines. If you aren’t enrolled in classes for a degree or working at least eighty hours a month, they’ll remove you from the program.” She grimaced and leaned back in her chair, unleashing another ear-piercing screech. “I can buy you a month to try and work this out, but not much more.”
“School and I are a terrible mix. It’s a miracle I graduated.” Lucia slumped in her seat with a heavy sigh. “Four weeks? Really, that’s it? It took me three months to find this job.”
Sue tapped the arm of her chair. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Let’s register you for job assistance, and if I get wind of work you might qualify for, I’ll let you know right away.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I hope I can figure this out without forcing Sam to endure any changes. She’s only three.” Lucia retrieved her box, twice as heavy after the discouraging news.
“Absolutely. I wish I could do more.” Sue gave a nod, pity heavy in her gaze.
As the door latched behind her, Lucia leaned against the wall, resting her head against the hard plaster. In the silence of the hallway, the box filled with her belongings from work highlighted her failure. The silver frame rested on top, and she reached for Sam’s picture. Her daughter’s long black hair, brown eyes, and sparkly smile drove out any temptation to wallow. She’d figure out this latest bump in the road. Surely that’s all it was. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
The current of life had dragged her back into deep waters, so far Lucia could barely see the shore.
Thirty days? God, I could use a little help here.

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