Page 50 of Glimmer in the Darkness

Her shudder was perceptible despite the thick sleeping bags between them.

He faced her, propping his head on his hand. “You live in a city or a suburb?”

“I can’t make small talk when—”

“Just… try, Cassy. Let’s just not think about it.”

She turned his direction. “City.”

“Expensive city, or—?”

“Pretty expensive, but…”

When she said nothing else, he asked, “But what?”

“Are we really going to lie here and chitchat like we’ve just met for coffee?”

“What else is there to do?” As soon as the words were out, his mind conjured a few images. Cassidy in his arms. Cassidy’s lips against his.

He’d spent a decade trying not to think about this woman, and now she was lying beside him in the dark. But they weren’t alone.

She fell onto her back and stared up. “There was a home for runaways in this city, a pretty good home. At eighteen, I was considered an adult. But I had to change my name anyway, so why not fudge my age? I told people I’d just turned seventeen. That bought me almost a year to build a new identity.”

“How did you do that? Was it hard?”

“It’s simpler if you’re a minor. Nobody expects a minor to have a photo ID. All I needed was a birth certificate and a social security number. It took me months to earn enough money to buy those. When I did—”

“Wait. How did you work without a social security number?”

“There are lot of places that don’t look too closely. How do you think illegals do it?”

He’d never thought about it.

“Anyway, I saved enough money, bought myself a forged birth certificate and a social security card with my new name on it. Then, when my fake birth certificate showed I’d turned eighteen, I got a driver’s license. That was all the ID I needed to build a new life.”

“Smart.”

“Still, it was hard. People with families don’t understand the challenges for those without. Did you know that twenty percent of kids who age out of foster care become instantly homeless? Twenty-five percent suffer PTSD. Sixty percent of men will be convicted of a crime, and seventy percent of women will get pregnant before age twenty-one.”

“You do public speaking or something? That sounded rehearsed.”

Her chuckle was low. “I guess it was. We’re always looking for donors.”

“But you managed to thrive.”

“I got lucky. I repeated my senior year and graduated from the local high school with my new name. The home where I lived… The people were good to me. They have this program for adults who need a leg up, former runaways and foster kids who are trying hard to support themselves and stay out of trouble. Very few of the people they help get in, but I did. God’s grace. I lived there while I went to college. They helped me with the tuition. They… they saved my life.”

“It’s why you do what you do.”

“Yeah. And I’m good at it. I’m good at connecting with kids who are afraid to connect.”

He couldn’t imagine the goth girl with the high walls pouring her heart into at-risk girls. The Cassidy he’d known and loved in high school had been closed off and afraid, at least at school. When she was at his home, with his family, she opened up and let him see the girl beneath the mask. So unlike the teenage version, this woman was open and fearless.

“You’ve changed so much.”

“Also God’s grace,” she said. “He taught me to hope for better. Taught me that, if my hope was in Him and Him alone, I would never be disappointed.”

Sounded both faithful and cynical.