“Do we look ready?” he growled, obviously hoping to scare her into backing out the door.
Macy’s gaze darted from Julia to Kyle. “You look satisfied enough to focus and win. Just think what you have to come back to afterward,” the publicist added, stepping into the room and physically separating the two of them.
“Let’s go. You—on the field,” Macy said, commanding Kyle with her tone and a pointed finger. “And you—up in the box,” she ordered Julia. She clapped her hands. “Now! Move!”
Kyle stole another kiss from Julia and ran out the door.
But not out of her life. Julia believed that now. She believed in him.
EPILOGUE
MIAMI SUNS
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact: Macy Kroger, Miami Suns, Publicity
Suns Pitcher Weds
Miami Suns pitcher and captain, Kyle Hansen, married childhood sweetheart, Julia Caldwell, a social worker at Caridad del Cobre Children’s Hospital, on December 1, 2012, in a sunset ceremony at the athlete’s exclusive home. The wedding follows the Miami Suns’ 2011 World Series win. The couple were joined in a small ceremony attended by friends and teammates. The best man was, to quote the groom, “an up-and-coming star pitcher in his own right,” fifteen-year-old Michael Cortez. In lieu of gifts, the couple asked that donations be made to the Andre Sobel River of Life Foundation, an organization they credit for their reunion. For over ten years, ASRL has provided funding when compassion can’t wait: within twenty-four hours, ASRL helps with urgent expenses to allow single parents to stay at their children’s bedside during catastrophic illness. More Information on ASRL can be found at: http://andreriveroflife.org/.
Dear Reader,
We all lead very busy lives and, as authors, we have deadlines. When first approached to write a story for More Than Words, I was honored to be asked but I wasn’t certain I could find the time in my schedule. Luckily for me, the people at Harlequin who are involved with the More Than Words philanthrophic initiative were persistent and I agreed. I never imagined what a gift writing this story would be. Through More Than Words, I was introduced to the Andre Sobel River of Life Foundation. Within twenty-four hours of a request, ASRL helps with urgent expenses to allow single parents to stay at their child’s bedside during catastrophic illness. What greater need can be filled? What greater gift can an organization give?
As a writer, I am honored to bring you my story, “Compassion Can’t Wait,” in honor of the Andre Sobel River of Life Foundation and the selfless work of Valerie Sobel, Anne Swire and everyone else at ASRL. I urge you to visit www.andreriveroflife.org and read about this truly inspiring organization and consider them when choosing where to make your charitable donations. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed social worker Julia Caldwell and star baseball player Kyle Hansen’s reunion. Theirs is a story of love, loss, hope and possibilities for the future—and that is what ASRL provides each and every day.
I wish you all health, happiness and as always, happy reading.
Best wishes,
www.carlyphillips.com
NANCY ABRAMS
Family Reconnect Program
Imagine a teen—your teen—huddled in a doorway overnight. A dusting of snow covers her thin sleeping bag and forces her to cram her shivering body deeper into its meager warmth. She is afraid, hungry and homeless.
That night she tells herself she is finished living in fear on the street. She wants to go home and be with her family again. Only one problem: she has no idea how to make it happen. There’s no money, but even more important, she’s worried that if she returns, nothing will have changed. She’ll still feel like an outsider. Her parents will still act exasperated by everything she does.
So she stays on the street, a target for violence, a vessel of despair.
Now imagine that Nancy Abrams, supervisor of the groundbreaking Family Reconnect Program offered by Eva’s Initiatives in Toronto, is there to offer a hand. Since 2002 her job has been to help homeless youth, from sixteen to twenty-four, reestablish supportive relationships with their families, allowing them to return home or live in the community with family support.
Dedicated to helping all marginalized young people find safety, she also introduced an Early Intervention Program for youth at imminent risk of living on the streets. Sound tough? Nancy waves the thought away, instead focusing on the positive.
“When I look at my career I have no regrets about what I’ve chosen to do,” says Nancy, who has more than thirty-five years of experience as a manager, counselor, child and youth worker, college instructor and volunteer. “It’s really a privilege to be part of this journey with people. It truly is.”
Working with abused women and their children, youth in correctional facilities and children in mental-health settings has taught Nancy to be pragmatic about the situations she helps people climb their way out of. She talks not about changing lives, but “shifting lives to a more healthy place.” She does that by offering respect and by refusing to judge the youth and families she meets.
Safe communication
Housed in a wing of the organization’s shelter, Eva’s Place, the Family Reconnect Program was launched after workers overheard heartbreaking telephone conversations between youth and their families. The kids wanted to go home, the parents were still angry, or vice versa. With communication skills lacking or too much anger driving a wedge between them, there was no easy way to reconnect children with their homes.
Now, with the help of two other family intervention counselors, Nancy meets with the youth, listens to their stories and is there in the room with them making that first important phone call home. They try to set a face-to-face meeting with the family if all goes well.
“That first meeting with family is a celebration,” she says. “Parents and youth are interested in working things out. I find families so remarkable during such difficult times.”
Nancy knows some people worry that kids are being sent home to less than ideal situations, but with proper support and family therapy, nearly all home situations can be improved, she says. In fact, since 2002 when the program started, she and her team have seen only three families they did not feel comfortable sending the youth to. That’s an incredibly small number considering that in 2008, the program worked with more than a hundred and fifty homeless youth.
Even when families are not prepared to open their hearts again to their daughter, son, granddaughter, grandson, niece or nephew, and take them back in, Nancy remains optimistic. She knows that “no” can sometimes mean “not yet.”
“To them we say, ‘We’re here. We’ll try again when you’re ready,’” she explains.
Full of hope
Nancy remains hopeful, even when endings are not happy ones. She thinks back to a young man she helped who struggled with an addiction problem. When he was clean, she says he was warm, loving and kind. But when on drugs, he became aggressive, stole from his single mother and challenged everyone. Nancy knew the family well. His mother never turned her back on her son and leaned on Nancy to help her find ways to turn the situation around.
Although Nancy had helped the young man get treatment, he was still mixed up with dangerous peers and was eventually murdered.
The following Christmas, Nancy received a phone call from the boy’s mother. She and her son had received holiday gift baskets through Eva’s Place in the past, and the woman decided this was the year she would donate to the people who’d helped her through her darkest hours. She made a beautiful Christmas bag to give to another family being helped by the Family Reconnect Program.
“Here was a woman who was having her first Christmas without her son, who wanted to give back. It was quite amazing,” says Nancy now. “But this is the experience I have all the time. People are very giving, kind and caring. Family therapy and counseling helps give them the language they need to share these qualities with their children.”
Getting it done
Whether she’s trying to get a t
eenager a hospital bed so a specialist can diagnose and treat his debilitating obsessive-compulsive disorder, or finding help for another youth challenged by mental illness, Nancy is known for being tenacious. She cuts through bureaucratic objections as forcefully as she cuts through red tape. She badgers if necessary, writes letters, schedules meetings and never gives up.
She does it all because she knows the alternative: placing a phone call in the middle of the night to tell a family their child is injured, sick or dead.
She admits there is a huge gap in the mental health and hospital systems where teens and youth fall through. Yet with Nancy’s care, understanding and dedication to helping families reconnect, that gap is becoming filled with families who understand their youths’ lives better and demand services that will turn those lives around.
“Every morning I wake up and I’m excited about the work I do,” says Nancy. “It’s more than work, though. I feel blessed in my life and I’m so proud of the youth and families I meet.”
DONNA HILL
SOMEPLACE LIKE HOME
DONNA HILL
National bestselling author Donna Hill began her career in 1987 with short stories, and her first novel was published in 1990. She now has more than fifty published titles to her credit, and three of her novels have been adapted for television. Donna has been featured in Essence, the New York Daily News, USA TODAY, Today’s Black Woman, Black Enterprise and other publications.
Apart from her writing, Donna served for many years as the Site Coordinator for Kianga House in Brooklyn, NY—a residential facility for teen mothers and their babies. The wonderful work done at Kianga House and Eva’s Initiatives are very close to her heart and the inspiration for “Someplace Like Home.” She is also co-founder and publisher of InnerVision Books, an ebook publisher.
Donna lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her family.
Find out more about her at www.donnahill.com.
DEDICATION
This story is lovingly dedicated
to all the children and families who are
finding their way home
PROLOGUE
“Did you hear about the Harris family?” Verna Scott glanced up from the mountain of case files on her desk. It seemed that the more she worked, the higher the stack grew. One wrong move and the files would go tumbling to the floor. Files containing the most intimate details of broken lives.
Nichole Graham, her longtime coworker, was standing in the doorway.
Verna took off her black-framed glasses and gently massaged the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t sure if she could handle any bad news today. They’d gotten a report earlier in the week that two children who had been placed in separate foster homes had run away and still not been found. It had been in all the newspapers and on television. Everyone was pointing fingers. Verna was the director of the division. Thankfully, her staff was cleared. They’d followed protocol to the letter and the assigned social workers had been to see the families in question at least two days before the kids ran away. She could only pray they would be found quickly and unharmed.
Verna had been a certified social worker for nearly a decade. She had her doctorate in child psychology and was passionate about her work. There was no greater satisfaction than seeing a family reunited, a runaway teen get the kind of loving care he or she needed or watching the countless foster children placed in homes with people who loved them. Unfortunately in her line of work, the tragedies often outnumbered the triumphs. There were days, like this one, when she didn’t know if she could keep working. That’s why she’d been carefully and slowly formulating plan B for the past two years.
“Do I want to know?” Verna asked with a tired smile.
Nichole stepped inside, lifted some overstuffed files from the one wooden chair and plopped down. She crossed her long legs at the knee. “They got burned out last night.”
Verna lowered her head and covered her face with her hands, then looked across the desk at Nichole, her own anguish reflected in her coworker’s blue eyes. “How bad?”
“They lost pretty much everything. We have them in a hotel for the time being. The Red Cross is helping. But, of course, we had to remove the children who were with them.”
Verna nodded at the inevitable and clenched her long fingers into fists. “Of course. We just placed the sister and brother with the Harrises. It was so difficult finding a family willing to take them both, and now this.”
“I know.”
“Those poor kids.” She banged the table with a fist as she looked off into the distance then around the room, which was nearly bursting with files of other children. The ache inside her rose in a wave, leaving her feeling helpless. Rare tears pricked her eyes.
“Verna…we’ll manage—” Nichole’s brow creased. “Are you okay?” The two of them had worked together for the past five years, and even in some of the most dire situations, Nichole had never seen Verna crack. She got up and came around the desk to sit on the edge. Reaching out, she covered Verna’s tight fist. “Talk to me,” she coaxed.
Verna looked up, and the worry in Nichole’s expression propelled her out of her seat and across the room to where her purse hung on the wobbly coatrack. She unzipped the bag and took out a Dunkin’ Donuts napkin. She dabbed her eyes and pushed away the countless images of hurt and confused children, before turning toward Nichole. She sniffed, cleared her throat and tugged on the hem of her navy blue jacket. “Allergies,” she said, forcing a smile.
“How long have we been friends—or at least coworkers?” Nichole asked. “We’re both trained to see beneath the surface. Whenever you want to talk, I’m here.”
Verna swallowed over the tightness in her throat and nodded.
“Thanks, Nikki. I appreciate that.”
Nichole stood. “I’m going to start looking at some options for the kids.”
“Try to keep them together,” Verna said, but her tone reflected the reality of what they faced: red tape and not enough families willing to take two adolescents into their home.
“I’ll keep you posted,” Nichole said before walking out.
Once the door closed, Verna squeezed her eyes shut, mentally berating herself for her lapse. She prided herself on her professionalism and objectivity, at least on the surface. For the most part, Verna was all about business. It was the only way she’d managed to get through the thousands of cases over the years. To become attached would be detrimental to the child, the family and the caseworker.
She’d earned the directorship of the New York office of the Agency for Children’s Services nearly eight years earlier. She was a career social worker with multiple degrees and certifications. She could easily open her own office, set her hours and decide on her cases. But she’d stayed in the trenches, digging through the debris of human heartache and trying to fix it. During the last few years, though, she’d begun to feel more and more that she was swimming upstream with no shore in sight. The several handfuls of successes were no longer enough. She wanted—no, needed—to be hands on, and so she’d started making plans. She’d visited Canada several years earlier and connected with people running an organization called Eva’s Initiatives in Toronto. She’d particularly been interested in the Family Reconnect Program that worked with young people and their families to help them rebuild relationships after family breakdowns. When she’d returned from that trip she was determined to use it as a model for her own program one day.
She turned and looked out her fifth-floor office window onto the gray concrete below. She knew it was time. She’d done all she could do here.
CHAPTER ONE
“Someplace Like Home is a model project that comprises several successful programs,” Verna said into the microphone.
She looked out at the sea of faces—some eager, some open, many jaded. Most of these high school guidance counselors wanted to do more than just help kids fill out forms. These men and women were on the front lines, and often saw problems certain students were having before anyone els
e did.
“Our facility is structured with a small residence for up to five youth, as well as a twenty-four-hour service center, counseling services, fully equipped recreation room, tutoring, emergency intervention specialists, a nurse, a small library and a yard for outside activities. Our goal is to provide an anchor, a sanctuary for kids who are being shuffled through the system, and provide them with the nurturing, resources and support that they need to survive. But most important, we create a home for them. A place that they can come to no matter what or when.
“We welcome visits and we’re always looking for volunteers,” she added, her smile filled with invitation. “Thank you all for listening. I’ve left literature on the tables.”
Verna moved away from the podium, walked down the three short steps and headed to the table where she’d placed her coat. Several of the conference participants came up to her and handed her their business cards. Others came to say thanks for the presentation.
She checked her watch and slipped into her gray wool three-quarter jacket, digging her hands into her coat pockets to retrieve her gray leather gloves. The temperature had dropped significantly throughout the day and the weather report predicted snow. It was March. Go figure, she mused as she walked to the exit.
“Dr. Scott,” a voice called out.
Verna turned. One of the conference attendees walked quickly toward her. She recognized him from the front row.
“I was wondering if you have a minute,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “Ronald Morris.”
“Sure. Would you mind walking and talking at the same time?”
“Not a problem.” He pushed open the swinging door and held it for her to pass through.
Once they stepped outside, the biting wind almost whipped their breaths away. They both reeled with shock then started to laugh.
“Maybe the weatherman is right for a change,” Verna said, knotting her scarf around her neck as they crossed to the parking lot.
More Than Words, Volume 7 Page 8
