Chapter 31
Even though I tried to hide it, I was worried about Neomi and her sisters coming to Safe Hearts today.
We normally have the same staff and volunteers.
Since we’re in the city, we get the occasional celebrity volunteer, mostly on holidays, but it’s typically a publicity stunt for photo ops, and they don’t stay long.
When class is over and it’s time for lunch, I return to the kitchen. Julian follows close. At first, I thought about putting up a fight about him escorting me to the shelter.
He surprised me in class today, and I couldn’t hold back my smiles when he actually participated with them. He answered questions, and he and Karson kept giving each other hell about missed answers. Sometimes, I think Julian was purposely missing, so Karson, the kid next to him, would crack a joke.
Karson and his mother have been with us for four months now. In the beginning, he was difficult in my class, always giving me hell and interrupting my teachings. Until one day, I asked him to stay after class and talked to him about his favorite comic book. He was shocked I’d read it.
I like helping people, enjoy making them feel better, and I always want everyone to know that they matter.
Situations come and go.
Money is earned and lost.
But people are still people.
They still have hearts, and feelings, and needs.
Sometimes, I think the world forgets that.
In the kitchen, I find Isabella arranging trays of food. Bria dumps French fries on the trays, and Neomi adds a scoopful of fruit alongside the turkey sandwiches.
They came fully dressed for the job, all wearing jeans, sneakers, and T-shirts.
Everyone says the Cavallaro sisters are always easy to point out with their similarities. While all different lengths, they all have dark hair. Bria’s is short, Isabella’s is long, and Neomi’s hits her shoulders.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“Great!” Isabella says, grinning over at me. “I talked to Lora, and she’s setting up a schedule for us to volunteer once a week.”
Bria nods, shooting me a similar smile to Isabella’s. “Thank you for letting us tag along with you. I’m sure getting us started was kind of a headache, but I’m glad we got to hang out in a space that means so much to you.”
“If there’s anything more we can do, please let us know,” Neomi adds, setting down the fruit bowl. “I can tell this place does a lot for these women and children.”
Mary, the head of the kitchen, comes up behind them. “You’re welcome anytime.”
Since help in the kitchen is limited, Mary is thankful whenever she has extra hands, but I know she’s picky about them. So, for her to give the okay for the girls to return tells me they left a really good impression on her.
It’s nice to have people share their love of the shelter with me.
While Darcy volunteers with me sometimes, she’s so busy with her family’s business and traveling that she can’t make a commitment.
The shelter has always been a personal thing.
My father always wrote checks, so that was enough in his eyes, and my mother refused to volunteer.
Julian stays in the kitchen, making phone calls, while the girls and I serve lunch. As we’re finishing up, Benny returns to take them home.
I thank them for coming and hug them before looking at Benny.
“Thank you for bringing them,” I say.
He nods and shrugs, and I hear him mutter, “Next time, convince them to just let me write a check.”
“Hey,” Neomi warns, slapping his shoulder. “For that comment, I’m making you come with me the next three times.”
“We have a dog and child to take care of,” Benny says. “We agreed once a week. Be happy with that.”
Neomi rolls her eyes and mimics his voice as they leave.
Julian stops at my side, waiting for me so we can walk out behind them.
“Genesis,” Lora says, rushing out of her office, as if she didn’t want to miss me. She waves me toward her. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course,” I say, following her into her office, and she shuts the door behind us.
“Thank you for bringing your friends.” She takes a seat behind her desk. “We always appreciate the extra help.” A stretch of concern crosses her face. “I need to ask you a favor.”
I nod, knowing I'll do it unless it’s something extreme.
“We have a new woman, Sage, who came here for help. She told us she was scared for her life, but other than that, she has hardly said a word to anyone. I think it was a domestic situation, but she refuses to talk with the therapist. She spends nearly every minute in her bed, either writing or reading.” Lora adjusts her glasses.
“You’re the youngest woman on staff here. Think you can try talking to her?”
“If she hasn’t talked to you, you think she’ll open up to me ?”
Lora is one of the easiest people to talk to. It’s why she’s so good at her job and has been director of the shelter for two decades.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Genesis. You’ve had many women and children open up to you who haven’t with anyone else.”
“All right.” I nod. “I’ll try to talk to her.”
“Thank you.”
I leave her office, her following me, and she points me toward a dark-haired girl sitting on a bottom bunk, writing in a journal. No one else is in the room. This is typically snack and arts and crafts time.
The woman is wearing headphones and bobbing her head, lip-syncing to the music. Her gaze flicks over to us, and she slowly lowers the headphones, knowing she’s the focus of attention.
Lora stays behind as I walk over to the woman.
She glances at each side of the room, like she’s looking for a quick exit.
“Hi,” I say, approaching her. “Sage, right?”
She drops the journal, not saying a word, staring at me like I’m the villain in her story.
Like she already doesn’t trust me.
Did she see me on the news?
My students did, so there’s a high possibility that answer is a yes.
Will that reputation follow me everywhere now?
I motion toward her bed. “Do you mind if I sit?”
She directs her gaze downward and shrugs.
“I’m Genesis,” I introduce myself, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. “I teach classes here if you ever want to drop in. I’d love to have you.”
She lifts her gaze, flicking her bangs away from her eyes. “I’m good.” Snatching her journal, she shoves it into a brown backpack.
“All right,” I say, my voice soft and understanding. “The offer is always open.”
Here, you let people come to you on their own time.
Safe Hearts has taught me patience.
She abruptly stands from the bed and hoists the backpack over her shoulder. “I’m not stupid, and I don’t need stupid classes.”
I feel like a failure as I watch her storm off.
Julian is waiting for me at the entrance, on his phone, when I leave the room.
“You ready to go?” he asks.
I can’t stop myself from hugging him.
He inches back, not pushing me away, but I can feel the way his body tenses in surprise.
“Thank you,” I whisper into his chest.
“We need to talk about something,” Julian tells me on the drive home.
I glance up from my phone, raising a brow. “Yeah?”
“What do you want to do with your dad’s body?”
I wince, shrinking back in the seat. “Geesh, can you say it any colder?”
He works his jaw. “You can’t expect me to respect a man who did what he did.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, understanding his feelings. I should feel the same way, but deep down, I keep remembering my father’s good traits.
“If we have a funeral, will it be a shit show?” I ask.
“Most likely, yes.”
“Can we do a private one then?”
“Genesis, welcome to your new world. Where, for the right price, you can do anything you want.”
It’s not very often that you turn on the local news, and you’re the topic of conversation.
“The FBI brought Genesis Astor in for questioning, and she’s fully cooperated with us,” Cliff Sikes, New York’s top prosecutor, states, looking deep into the camera.
“We’ve investigated her, and we can confidently say she knew nothing about her father’s fraud.
She’s also offered to turn over personal belongings to repay the victims Carlisle Astor stole from. ”
Derrick stands behind Cliff, clad in the same FBI jacket and hat, and nods along with his every word. Cliff had introduced him as Agent Green at the beginning of his speech.
Reporters scream question after question at him.
“What about her mother?” one asks. “Does Genesis know where she is?”
“We’ve yet to locate Diana Astor,” Cliff replies.
“Doesn’t that prove she’s guilty?” the same reporter questions.
“That proves she needs to get in touch with us ASAP before we start assuming that.”
I can tell from the cynical expression on his face that he fully believes my mother is guilty.
I turn down the volume on the TV and immediately call my mother.
“Hello?” she answers, surprising me.
Though, since I recently got a new number so reporters would stop calling me, she probably didn’t know it was me.
“Mom,” I breathe out. “Have you been watching the news? You need to talk to the Feds before you get arrested.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” she huffs out.
“Do you want to go to prison?”
“Oh, sweetie.” Her tone turns so patronizing that I debate hanging up on her. “I have no intention of returning to the United States.”
“How do you plan to live out of the country with no money?” After the question leaves my mouth, I realize how stupid it was.
“You don’t think we made sure I was situated financially before I fled?”
A sour taste fills my mouth, and I cover my mouth, forcing bile back down. “What about making sure I was okay?” I hold in a breath, fighting back a sob so she doesn’t hear it leave me.
Fuck that .
“Oh shoot, what’s that?” She starts to talk to someone in the background. “Oh, honey, my massage therapist is here. I’ll need to call you back.” She hangs up.
What a joke .