Promising Angela

Angela Fisher hugged her counselor, waved good-bye to the receptionist, wrapped her fingers around the handle on her suitcase, and walked out the door to freedom. When she’d entered the South Central Drug Rehabilitation Center eight weeks ago, she had a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Gibraltar and an attitude to match. Today, the only weight she carried was that of her well-filled suitcase. She smiled. It felt good to have those burdens lifted.

Squinting against the mid-July sun, she turned toward the bus station. When she’d called her parents to let them know she’d be free to come home, she’d hoped Mom or Dad would volunteer to drive over and get her. But Dad had a charity golf game, and Mom gave the excuse of a meeting with the library board about hosting a multicultural exhibit.

“Can’t you take a bus home, darling? I know you have money for a ticket,” her mother had purred. And Angela had consented. Angela didn’t fault her parents for their community involvement, but it had rankled a bit that a golf game to raise money for a piece of sculpture to stand in the center of the city’s newest roundabout and a planning meeting took precedence over their daughter’s release from an intensive drug-abuse rehabilitation program.

Of course, Angela acknowledged as she waited at the curb for the walk sign, seeing the center would be a reminder to her parents that she hadn’t been away at summer camp or something equally innocuous. Their embarrassment at her being ordered to go through the rehabilitation program was beyond description.

Angela stepped off the curb and followed the crosswalk, the leather soles of her sandals slapping the asphalt a little harder than was necessary as she contemplated the real reason for her parents’ shame. She suspected it had more to do with her getting caught, and the subsequent publicity, than it did with her need for the program.

But more than one good thing had come as a result of her time at the center. Not only had Angela confronted the reason why she’d chosen to use drugs and made the decision to avoid them in the future, she’d also discovered a relationship with Jesus. A friend from back in Petersburg, Carrie Wilder, had visited. She’d brought Angela a Bible and shared the message of salvation. Maybe it was loneliness that first made Angela listen to Carrie, but recognition of her need for a Savior brought about the decision to accept Jesus into her heart.

Her steps lightened. She was going home a new person—drug free and Spirit filled. That thought brought a lift to her heart, and she almost skipped as she made her way down the sunny sidewalk.

Weaving between other Saturday-morning pedestrians, she flashed a smile and offered an “excuse me” when her suitcase bumped the leg of a middle-aged woman. Despite her effort to be polite, the woman snapped, “Watch what you’re doing!”

Angela spun around, a sharp retort forming on her tongue. Before she could spout the words, lessons from the Bible Carrie had given her winged through her mind, dispelling the unpleasant rejoinder. With a meek smile, Angela said, “I’m terribly sorry,” turned, and hurried on.

She sucked in a big breath of the dry summer air and offered a silent
thank You
to the Holy Spirit for controlling her errant tongue. Angela knew she would need the help of the Holy Spirit in the next weeks—and not just in keeping her tongue under control. In her final one-on-one session, her counselor had cautioned her the first weeks back “in the world” would be the most challenging.

“Habits are hard to break,” the woman had warned, her expression serious. “Here, in a safe environment, it’s easy to stay drug free. But back in your community, back with your old friends, the desire to be a part of that lifestyle will be a fierce pull. It will take a great deal of strength to resist the temptation.”

At the time, Angela had released a laugh and said blithely, “Oh, don’t worry about me! I’m as headstrong as they come. Nobody can make me do something I don’t want to do.” And then she’d added, “Besides, I have Someone helping me stay clean. I won’t go back to those habits.”

The near argument with the grumpy lady on the sidewalk had seemed to be a small test of the Holy Spirit’s hold on her heart, and it pleased Angela that she’d passed with flying colors. Now if she could continue doing the right thing when it was bigger than making a cutting retort …

“Angela!”

The call pulled Angela from her introspection. She swung around, her hand shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, and sought the source of the voice. She broke into a smile when she saw Carrie Wilder trotting down the sidewalk. The moment Carrie caught up, she wrapped Angela in a huge hug.

Angela laughed in Carrie’s ear, releasing her suitcase to return the hug. “Carrie! What are you doing here? Did you come to visit? I got out today.”

“I know.” Carrie slipped her sunglasses to the top of her head, the earpieces acting as a headband for her long blond waves. “I wanted to give you a ride home.”

“Oh, Carrie!” Angela grabbed her friend in another hug. “That’s so sweet of you! You drove three hours over here just for me?”

Carrie’s light laugh brushed aside Angela’s concern. “Well, why not? It’s a great day for a drive.”

“Oh, this is wonderful. Thank you!” Angela picked up her suitcase and admitted, “I was dreading that bus ride.”

“Well, I parked at the center, so now we have to walk back there. I’ve been chasing you for two blocks—you walk fast!”

Angela laughed and looped her elbow through Carrie’s. “Yes, I suppose I’m eager to get home.”

“I don’t blame you,” Carrie said. They ambled easily down the sidewalk, no longer in a need to rush since they didn’t have to follow the bus schedule. “I imagine it’s been a long eight weeks.”

Angela puckered her lips into a brief, thoughtful pout. “Yes, it has, but it’s been a good eight weeks. I learned a lot—about myself and about why I felt the need to use drugs in the first place. And I hope I’ve learned how to keep from giving in to that need in the future. I don’t want to have to come back.”

Carrie sent her a worried look. “Do you really think that might happen?”

Angela shrugged. “My counselor told me it isn’t uncommon. But I’m determined to beat the odds. Besides”—she smiled, giving Carrie’s elbow a squeeze—”thanks to you, I’m not fighting this battle alone. One of the verses you underlined in the Bible you gave me says, ‘I can do everything through him who gives me strength.’ I’m going to bank on that.”

Carrie slung an arm around Angela’s shoulders and gave her a one-armed hug. “Good for you!” Releasing Angela, she stepped off the curb and popped the trunk on her sports sedan. “Let’s get you home and put those words into action.”

They pulled through a fast-food place and ordered burgers, fries, and shakes before catching Highway 54 East and heading for Petersburg. Angela took a long pull on the straw, savoring the sweet chocolate flavor of her milk shake. The food at the Center had been filling but bland. She sighed, tipping her face to smile at Carrie’s profile.

“I’m going to have to be careful. Food tastes so good right now. I’m afraid I’ll overindulge and outgrow my wardrobe.”

Carrie laughed and popped a crispy french fry into her mouth. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. You’ll be too busy to be snacking.”

Angela put her shake in the cup holder as worry struck. “Do you know what I’ll be doing?” When she’d been arrested for drug use, the judge had handed down a one-year sentence, starting with the eight-week rehabilitation program. There were still ten months to be served somewhere. It was at least a small comfort to know someone who worked in the county clerk’s office. Hearing the details of her sentencing might be less painful coming from a friend.

One hand on the wheel and her gaze on the road, Carrie reached into the backseat and groped around. It took a minute before she brought her hand forward and dropped a large manila envelope in Angela’s lap. “The judge’s recommendation is in there.”

Angela peeled the envelope open and pulled out a sheaf of stapled pages while Carrie continued.

“Basically, it says since this is a first offense, you will serve your term with community service. He’s assigned you to work at New Beginnings, starting this coming Monday.”

“Monday already …” Right around the corner. Then Angela’s hands froze on the papers as a wave of fear rose up inside her. “New Beginnings? You mean, the place Rocky’s brother runs, where they train handicapped people for jobs in the community?”

Carrie nodded, a soft smile appearing on her face with the mention of her husband’s name. “The very same. I suggested it to Philip, he thought it was a great idea, and the judge approved it.”

“But—but—” Angela shook her head. “I don’t know anything about working with people with disabilities!”

“You’ll learn.”

Carrie’s nonchalant comment set Angela’s teeth on edge. “You don’t understand, Carrie. I wish you’d asked me before you talked to Philip.” Angela shifted sideways in the seat to face her friend. Her mouth felt dry, and she took another quick slurp of melting milk shake to moisten her tongue. “People with handicaps … they make me nervous.”

Carrie flicked a brief glance in Angela’s direction. “How so?”

Angela thumped the shake back into the cup holder. “I don’t know. They just do! I’ve hardly visited my aunt Eileen since she took that job as resident caretaker for those three men at Elmwood Towers. Every time I’m around them, I get … nervous. I don’t know how to talk to them, how to be around them …”

“You’ll learn.”

Angela clutched the hair at her temples. “Stop saying that!”

“Why? It’s true.” Carrie munched another fry, unconcerned.

“The more you’re with them, the easier it will get.”

Angela flopped back in the seat, her eyes closed. “I’m not so sure about that….” Her stomach churned. New Beginnings! She would never have imagined being sent there….

“Well, it’s either community service at New Beginnings or a women’s detention facility. I was pretty certain you’d prefer New Beginnings.”

Angela opened her eyes. She drew in a big breath then released it slowly, forcing her tense shoulders to relax. When it came to choosing between glorified jail or working with adults with disabilities, it was pretty much a no-brainer. Of course she preferred the latter. It was just … awkward.

“Listen”—Carrie’s soft voice held a hint of sympathy—”what was that verse you were telling me about before we got in the car? ‘I can do everything…’”

“‘Through him who gives me strength.’” Angela sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, okay, Carrie, you got me. New Beginnings it is.” Shooting her friend a sharp look, she added, “But don’t expect me to be good at it. I know nothing about working with people with disabilities.”

Carrie chuckled. “You’ll learn.”

? Ben Atchison placed the clipboard on his desk, crossed his arms, and scowled across the room. That new hire, Angela Fisher, was backing off from Danielle when she should be moving closer. He shook his head. What had Philip Wilder been thinking when he brought that girl on staff?

If Philip weren’t happily married, Ben would have suspected the boss just intended to add to the décor. That little turquoise and black number she had on today fit her to perfection, showcasing every trim curve. How she managed to stay upright—not to mention look graceful—in those skinny-toed, back-half-missing, toothpick-heeled shoes was nothing short of miraculous.