<< Go Back

Almond Street Mission

By June Foster

Order Now!

Prologue


Tannon Neilson blew out the last candle on the cake baked by his sister-in-law, Joella. He pasted on a smile, hoping the expression hid his dismal mood. At the Neilson estate, sunshine through the wide kitchen window streaked the table.
"Happy birthday, son." Mom's shoulders slumped as she shifted in the leather chair at the glass kitchen table. "I love you, but it's hard seeing my last child grow up."
He didn't feel grown up. His father had never allowed an independent thought, always afraid he or the family would upset the balance with the false god he worshipped. Now, he was expected to know everything. He knew nothing about life.
"Trust in Exalted Father, and you'll be a rock solid citizen," Dad always said. A bunch of lies. The jumble of emotions swirled in Tannon's gut like somebody mixing concrete.
"Eighteen years old." JD slapped Tannon's back. "Graduation's fast approaching. Have you received any news from your college apps?"
Tannon's two-and-a-half-year-old nephew, Jacob, banged his spoon on the highchair table. "Mama. Me want cake, please."
"Just a minute, little man." Joella reached toward the counter for a small, plastic cup, filled it with milk, and replaced the lid.
The corners of Tannon's mouth hurt as he forced another smile. JD could never discover his plans. He'd only try to change Tannon into a miniature JD, making the case his lifestyle and religious views were the only option for any self-respecting member of the family. At least his brother no longer embraced the deceit taught by their childhood religion. But were JD's so-called Christian beliefs any better than their former church? Under the table, Tannon clenched his fist into a ball. His jumbled thoughts had clouded his mind far too long.
"Bro, what about college?"
"I haven't decided yet." Tannon didn't want a college education, and JD couldn't force him.
"You know, buddy, college classes start in the fall. You've only got a few months to make your decision." JD lowered his voice. "Look. I've told you and Mom before. If it's finances you're concerned about, let's talk. I know it's been hard since Dad died. Mom's working now, and you have the part time job at Wal-Mart. We can make this work."
JD's thoughtful words threatened to defrost the chill Tannon had constructed around his heart. His brother meant well and would provide the funds for tuition. But the university route wasn't for everyone. Just because JD had an impressive degree in Business Administration and was a successful CPA …
"Listen to me, Tannon." JD pressed his hands together. "I love you. Joella and I can work it out. Let us help."
Joella pulled out the candles, icing clinging to each, and sliced the coconut cake, sending bits of white flakes on the platter underneath. Dessert plates lay on the counter beside the cake. "JD and I have discussed it. There's a wonderful community college here in El Camino. You could go there for a couple of years until you decide what you want to major in."
Mom touched his arm. "Son, you need to consider JD's offer."
"I'm grateful to all of you. I'll think about it." For five minutes, maybe.
His sister-in-law glanced at the video monitor of the sleeping baby upstairs. "Jeannette's sound asleep."
"You're the best, both of you." Tannon let the fake smile fade from his lips with his insincere remark. "I'll let you know. Soon."
"Well, don't wait too long, bro." JD set a plastic plate with a small piece of cake on Jacob's highchair tray. Colorful ceramic dishes held the other pieces Joella had sliced. "Here you go." JD passed out the dessert to everyone around the table.
Joella stabbed a huge bite of cake with her fork. "If I don't watch what I'm eating, I won't lose my baby fat from Jeannette's birth."
JD cast an adoring beam in her direction. "I love you no matter what your size."
"Honey," Joella slapped his shoulder. "You don't want a fat wife."
JD's perfect wife. The prestigious profession, his children and church. His brother had it all and seemed content with life. Tannon gulped. He never wanted that for himself―the stereotyped existence. And they would find out soon.
 


Chapter One


"I love you, too." Glorilyn Neilson gulped the threatening tears and slipped the cell phone into the fanny pack attached to her waist.
"I love you?" Lori stopped scrubbing the oversized pan in the sink and cocked an eyebrow. "Is there something you haven't told me? Finally taking my advice about finding a guy and settling down?"
Despite Glorilyn's dreary frame of mind, she chuckled. "No, silly, my brother JD's checking in about Tannon."
"What's it been now, four weeks? No news at all?"
Though Glorilyn didn't want to break down in the middle of the kitchen at the Almond Street Mission, a renegade tear made its way down her cheek, and she whisked it away. "No, nothing, and Mom is still sick with worry."
Lori rinsed the suds off the pan and placed it on the drying rack. "I pray he's well, but I hate all the stress he's placing on the family."
"I have a feeling he’s out there enjoying life. No cares in the world. Leaves one note, dumps his cell phone on his bed because he can’t be bothered with our calling him, and he hightails it out of town." Glorilyn fluffed the towel over the damp pan. "I worry more about Mom than I do him. You can leave a hundred notes saying you love your family, but your actions speak differently when you run out on them because you need to find your identity. What does that even mean?"
"I can imagine her worry, but if he does come home, I bet you she’ll wrap her arms around him and welcome him back. All the while, she’d want to throttle him. Human nature, if you ask me." Lori doused the skillet in the sink full of soapy water.
Glorilyn's heart broke for her mother. First Dad had died. Now her son was who knew where. Was life no more than a series of losses? "I’m not sure if the police’s opinion that Tannon was nothing more than an eighteen-year-old spreading his wings has helped Mom or hurt her. She has to wonder if she’d done something wrong. I think we all do." She took a deep breath, finished drying the pan, and placed it on the cabinet over the industrial-sized stove.
"If God can answer your prayers for me, He can bring your brother home."
"I know you're right." Glorilyn wiped another tear with the back of her hand. "Your new faith in Jesus has brought me hope He hears our prayers for Tannon. I want to stay strong, but after all those weekend trips with JD to different cities where homeless teens congregate—Portland, Seattle, even as far south as Los Angeles without anything turning up, makes me feel hopeless. Volunteering at the shelter helps me endure the doubts and uncertainties. In case Tannon's — you know, without shelter." The thought of her brother joining the ranks of the homeless sent pinpricks to Glorilyn's stomach.
"So, you and JD believe he's on the streets." Lori wiped suds off her nose.
"We don't know for sure. He didn't have many resources when he left. He refused JD's help for college." Glorilyn caught her breath. "But maybe he got a job and is doing fine. Hopefully he'll call us in time." She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and surveyed the kitchen. "Hey, we're almost finished. If we keep chatting, we'll be here all night. I'll take the garbage out."
Lori touched Glorilyn's arm. "Hey, Sweetie. I love you, and we'll keep praying for your brother. With God, all things are possible."
Glorilyn hugged her friend and lifted the black plastic lining out of the waste container. She tied it with a twisty, trying not to breathe in the odors of onion, potato peelings, soured milk, and table scraps. She secured the garbage with both hands and headed toward the backdoor and the trash cans in the alley.
"Are you okay? Not too heavy?" Lori called from the sink.
Gripping the top of the bag with more force than necessary, Glorilyn lugged it out the door. "I'm all right. Really."
"Okay, I'll be in the nurse's office taking inventory."
"Thank God for your RN skills." Glorilyn tugged the bag toward the cans.
The alley behind Almond Street Mission wasn't well lit, yet she'd done this a hundred times before. Sure, this was a crime-ridden, inner city neighborhood, but she juggled too many other worries to be afraid.
As Glorilyn lifted the heavy bag into the can, noise behind sent fear down her spine. Footsteps crunched on the rocks. A puff of air hit her ear, and hot breath whooshed against her cheek. She whirled around. A grimy, woolly-faced man towered over her. The stench of alcohol made her gag. Lord, help me.
"Well, hello, young miss. Where've you been all my life?"
He grabbed her hair. Jerked her head back. Glorilyn's scream echoed between the two buildings before the sloppy kiss silenced her. She almost choked as the guy pressed against her and her mind reeled. This couldn't be happening.

*****

As he rounded the corner of the building, Caleb Goodman wrinkled his nose at his body odor. His long curly hair matted into a solid accumulation of dust and smoke, and his beard grew wild—the consequence of living on the street. But after a month of the lifestyle, smell was the least of his worries. Finding the next meal took precedence. Thank God for Almond Street Mission. Though he didn't live in the facility, the personnel allowed him to eat one meal a day.
A woman's scream caught his attention. Farther down the alley behind the building, a giant of a man groped a woman about half his size. He forced his lips on her neck.
The woman attempted to kick him, but the ogre's overpowering grip restrained her.
"Hey!" Caleb dropped his gear and darted down the alley past the door to the kitchen and toward the garbage cans.
The startled attacker lifted his head and sneered.
"Leave her alone." Caleb growled.
The surprised man shook his fist and fastened his arm tighter around his captive. "You're no cop."
Caleb shoved the would-be attacker until he released his hold. "I said leave her alone."
Long auburn hair hung in the woman's face as she gasped for air.
"Are you all right?"
Shoulders shaking with her sobs, she took a couple of steps backward.
The misguided man fell on his backside and scrambled to his feet. "Why you … you think you're hot stuff, don't you?" He landed a powerful blow with his meaty fist above Caleb's left cheek.
Pain erupted like an earthquake and seared through the side of his head. Blood blurred his vision. He darted toward the man and twisted his arms behind his back. "Call the police."
A wall of flesh rammed against Caleb, propelling him onto the alley's rocky surface. A blast shot up his shoulder, and he groaned.
The vagrant flipped him off and fled down the alley toward the street.
"Hello, police?" The woman's high-pitched voice wavered. "Yes, I was just attacked by a man in the alley. I … I think he was going to rape me." She gasped. "Yes, behind the Almond Street Mission." She paused. "No, I'm okay. He didn't …" A sob wrenched her. "Another man showed up before … Yes, thank you." Shaking, she stuffed the phone in the bag around her waist.
Caleb wiped more of the warm blood seeping down his face and slowly pushed to his feet. "Thank God you're fine, and He allowed me to show up at the right time."
The woman who appeared about his age, twenty-eight, took a few more steps backward. "For a minute, I thought I should make a run for it, but you defended me. Thank you."
One of the hazards of being homeless—people were always suspicious of his character. He knew the risks all too well. "I can assure you, I would never violate a woman. I'd answer to the Lord if I did."
Her mouth gaped open. "You're …you're a Christian?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have been since I was seventeen."
"Then why …?"
Sirens grew louder, and a police car screeched to a stop at the entrance of the alley. Guns drawn, the officers raced toward Caleb and the lady. The first one pointed a gun and yelled. "Get on the ground. Get on the ground."
Though pain battered Caleb's shoulder, he complied, lying face down in the filthy dirt and rocks.
"No, officer …" the woman cried. "He's not the one.'
As if the policeman didn't hear, he forced his knee on Caleb's shoulder. "Put your hands behind your back."
"Sir." Caleb coughed with chalky dust in his nose. "It wasn't me."
"Yeah, yeah. That's what they all say."
"No, it's like he said. This guy didn't do it." The woman's voice brought relief. "He rescued me, and I think he's hurt. The other guy ran off."
The heavy weight shifted off Caleb. "Okay."
Caleb struggled to his feet barely lifting his eyes to the woman's face.
"We'll need you to fill out a police report. If you're sure you're all right."
"Yes, this man's a hero. He helped me."
The cop eyed her and shrugged. "I'll be back for the report." Both policemen sprinted out of the alley and into their car.
"Thank you. The big guy's knee wasn't exactly pleasant in the middle of my back."
The woman took a few steps toward him, peering at his face. "I think you need first aid. Our volunteer nurse might want to look at your eye."
"Glorilyn, what happened?" Another young woman, dark hair flying in the evening breeze, rushed out the side door. "I thought I heard sirens but didn't realize the police were here until I heard voices."
"I'm fine. But from now on, I'm letting one of the male workers take over garbage duty. Especially at night. I … I got attacked." Glorilyn hiccupped with her next breath. "This man showed up in time."
The dark haired woman surveyed him up and down. "Hmm. We need to examine your eye."
"Yeah. I'll take him inside to the first aid room." Glorilyn beckoned. "This way."
He picked up his backpack and guitar from the dirt and followed Glorilyn through the kitchen.
Even at ten in the evening, the steamy July air heated his arms and legs. Inside, the cool interior refreshed him. To his left, past the dining area, an open door revealed a dimly lit room lined with rows of folding chairs facing a podium. A chapel?
Glorilyn led him into another small room on the right. "Come in and sit there." She indicated a metal seat next to the desk. "I'll get the first aid kit." She unlatched a cabinet door and returned with a plastic case.
A man whose nametag read Mr. Harris, Mission Director, walked into the room along with the dark haired woman who bent to examine his face. "Is everything all right, here? I heard sirens outside." The director glared at Caleb.
"Sir, this man got hurt when he saved me from an assault. I was attacked when I took out the garbage. The police are searching for the assailant now. "
"All right." Mr. Harris walked nearer. "Let's see what we can do for him."
"I'd like to take care of the cut on my eye." Caleb's shoulder still ached, but he ignored it.
Glorilyn leaned around Lori to examine his eye. "Hmm. I wonder if you need stitches."
An uneasy sensation surged through Caleb's chest and his pulse quickened. No. Absolutely not. This wasn't the time or place to feel attracted to a beautiful woman with auburn hair falling around her shoulders.
"I'm Glorilyn Neilson." She moved even closer, some fresh feminine scent racing his heart like the speed boats back home on Lake Roberts.
Revealing his true identity wasn't possible. "My name is …uh, Jeremiah. But you can call me Jer if you'd like." Not really a lie. Jeremiah was his middle name. Caleb Jeremiah Goodman.
"Miss." The muscular officer who'd ground his knee into Caleb entered the office. "We need a detailed description of the perpetrator. Unfortunately, he got away this time, but we'll find him." He pulled out a small notebook. "And we need your statement about the incident."
"You go ahead and make the report, Glorilyn," Mr. Harris said. "Lori and I will take care of this young man. His wound is fairly deep, but I don't think he'll need stitches."
"Thank you for rescuing me." Her smile made Caleb's stomach flip. "I'm so grateful. We have chapel every Sunday and a delicious meal afterward. Maybe you could come one time."
"I will. That's a promise." Here he wouldn't be judged for his tattered jeans and scraggly beard. But the voice inside scolded. He couldn't give up the life he'd chosen in serving the Lord. No one, including Glorilyn, could interfere with his plan. 

Order Now!

<< Go Back