Good Heavens by Margaret A. Graham Page B

would be a better word. They threatened to cut off my allowance, but education is such a priority with them, they permitted me to return to grad school and finish my last semester.”
    I really felt sorry for her. As for her parents, I could wring their necks! There was a photograph on the cabinet, and I picked it up. “Is this your daddy?”
    â€œYes, that’s Father.”
    The picture showed him gray-headed with a dark beard, smoking a pipe and wearing a turtleneck. “He looks like a professor,” I said and set the picture back on the cabinet.
    â€œNow can you see why I cannot fail at Priscilla Home? They would never forgive me for wasting two years here when I could be well on my way in a doctoral program.”
    â€œIs that what you want to do—study for a doctor’s degree?”
    She hesitated. “No, Esmeralda. No, it isn’t. I just want to make a go of it here at Priscilla Home.”
    I could’ve told her a lot of stuff that would help her succeed, but I figured this wasn’t the time. Ever since I came to Priscilla Home it looked like everything except the counseling sessions were just thrown together. When the women were not having a one-on-one with Ursula, for the most part they wasted time—stayed outside smoking. “Ursula,” I ventured to say, “what would you think about writing us a schedule so that every day is planned and duties are assigned?”
    â€œI do have a schedule for counseling sessions. The last resident manager took care of scheduling other activities. She was incompetent, and I suggested that she make a career change, which she did.”
    â€œYou mean scheduling is my job?”
    â€œI thought you knew that.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI should write job descriptions,” she said wearily.
    â€œWell, then, I’ll try, but I’ll need your help. What would you think of having the first hour of the morning set aside for prayer and praise?”
    â€œPrayer and praise? Do you think they’re ready for that?”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œVery well.” She was too worn out to give it much thought.
    â€œAfter prayer and praise, then there’s work in the house and yard—I could sign them up for that. After lunch we could have a Bible study.”
    â€œWill you teach it?”
    â€œMe? I’m not a Bible teacher.”
    â€œWell, you’re the only one available. I’m tied up all day long counseling.”
    â€œUrsula, I’ve never taught anything!”
    â€œWell, think about it.”
    Think about it? There is no way under the sun I could set myself up as the Priscilla Home Bible teacher!
    Suddenly I remembered the falls. “The girls—I mean, the ladies —want to go to the falls. I’ll take them if it’s okay with you.”
    â€œAll right, you can take them. Tell them to be careful.”
    â€œGood. I’ll tell them. Now, Ursula, eat your sandwich and drink your milk—and why don’t you take a rest while we’re gone?”
    â€œI might as well.”
    I picked up the tray to take it back to the kitchen, but when I looked back at that poor, sad girl, my heart went out to her. I put down the tray, went around the table, and gave her a hug.

7

    The trail to the falls led us through rhododendron thickets with trees towering overhead. Shaded as we were and with a stiff breeze whipping about, I was chilly, but the girls led at such a pace I figured we’d warm up. I was bringing up the rear with that girl Brenda from Alabama. She’s a hairdresser and offered to do my hair any time I liked.
    Brenda told me her real husband, as she called him, had been a nice man until some bimbo at work wooed him away from her. “Tommy and I were getting along good, went to church, had a nice house almost paid for. The kids were grown. Then he met that bimbo at work, and she wouldn’t leave him alone. Miss E., young girls go after older men