Free Derailed by Jackson Neta, Dave Jackson Page B

gonna do it.”
    Yeah
, I thought,
Estelle feels creepy when people peek out at us, but I feel queasy over whether we can afford this place
.
    Had God really given us this house? If so, why were we suddenly in over our heads?

Chapter 8
    I had almost drifted off to sleep, having little half dreams about how to mount that basketball hoop on the back of our garage. But it just wasn’t fitting together the way I wanted it to.
    â€œHarry? Harry!”
    I opened my eyes. “Huh?” Everything was turned around. The window should be at the foot of our bed, but the dim glow of a streetlight came through Venetian blinds at my side.
    â€œHarry, you awake?”
    â€œWhat . . . ?” I raised myself up on my elbows and remembered we were in our new bedroom. I turned toward my wife’s familiar shape, smelling faintly of soap and powder. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œNothing’s the matter, honey, but I was just thinking . . . several weeks ago, at the Manna House Valentine’s party, didn’t you say someone from Amtrak Police called and wanted you to come work for them?”
    I sat all the way up. “Amtrak? Oh, yeah, Gilson called me, but—” I choked off my words and blew out a long breath. “It’s the middle of the night, Estelle. What’s the clock say?”
    â€œUm . . . eleven thirty, but I couldn’t sleep, ’cause I been thinkin’, if it would make a difference for us to have the money to cover the whole mortgage ourselves, maybe you should take that job. Better than bein’ a doorman. You don’t much like being retired, anyway. And then we wouldn’t be caught between Rodney’s behavior and the bank.”
    I flopped back onto the bed and yawned loudly. “Not so sure it’d be better than that doorman job. At least no one woke me up in the middle of the night. Now go to sleep, Estelle. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
    â€œOkay, okay. Just think about it.” She turned over, and within minutes I heard her breathing transform into the steady slowness of a peaceful sleep.
    But no such luck for me. My mind started skittering like static electricity . . .
    Okay. The reason we needed someone to rent our downstairs apartment was because Mom couldn’t move in. The image of her lying up there in the hospital giving me her crooked smile floated through my mind. Was she feeling lonely? I should visit her more. But how could I? We’d just bought a house that needed a lot of work, and I’d have even less time if I got a job.
    Of course, she’d been living alone for years and never complained of being lonely. At least now she had a roommate and nurses on duty to help her. Had to admit, though, at almost ninety, she had to be approaching the end of her life. Her best friend, Ethel, had died right after Thanksgiving. I really needed to prepare myself for that. A physical ache pulled at my heart, thinking of her passing. Sure hoped some of us would be there to hold her hand and pray with her when she went home. It’d be terrible to be completely alone.
    How stupid we’d been to base our whole plan for this building on her moving in! Which was why I didn’t want to base our future on Rodney’s performance either. Not good!
    I flopped over on my other side. I needed to get some sleep.
    What got me goin’ here? Oh, yeah, Estelle asking about that call from Gilson. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to work for Amtrak. We could sure use the money. And she was right; with more financial stability we could give Rodney a genuine second chance. Maybe this was the time. I wasn’t really worried about him holding down a job as long as drugs were out of the picture. He’d been a good worker ever since I got him his first job at age twelve helping our building manager for thirty minutes a day, picking up trash, sweeping the back stairs, or washing the door