Sheltering Hearts Read Free Page B

they?”
    “Ten and twelve. Typical boys. Good kids.” She glanced down into her cup for a moment. “I don’t have the kind of problems the women I met tonight have. I should be so grateful. I almost felt guilty taking up chair space tonight.”
    “Oh, heavens, don’t! I’m sure you had a reason for coming out to support group.” Dory paused, then said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of problems do you have?”
    She gave a half smile. “Nothing that compares to some of the situations I heard tonight. I have three sisters—all with good marriages. And they’re very supportive. But to tell the truth, sometimes I just get so lonely. I thought maybe some women in the same boat, with situations like mine…”
    “I can relate,” Dory said. “I guess that means you’re not dating….”
    “I’ve had some dates,” she said with a shrug. “Actually, a few nice guys have asked me out, and I’ve been seeing one regularly lately—it’s not serious, though. Nothing seems to shiver me timbers, as my dad would say.” Then she smiled.
    Dory laughed. “I have an idea, something for you to think about… You might not be in need of gas coupons or food or shelter from an abuser, but please don’t let that stop you from attending our support group—we can all use people to talk to. We don’t weigh the problems to see who has the heaviest load. We just deal. You know? I understand how hard it is to keep up with everything when it’s all on you, but more than half of our volunteers are single moms. They volunteer because they know how tough it can be andthey want to help. We’re getting some amazing things done and we’re growing into a real significant resource, one that’s even more important now that the economy is down and government benefits are being cut like mad. We need the help, Elizabeth—would you consider becoming a volunteer? I can guarantee you’d meet some fantastic people.”
    “How’d you get into it?” she asked.
    “Exactly like this. I needed some emotional support and found the group. It felt as good to give support as it did to get it, and then Corsica recruited me to help her develop this organization so it could assist more women and kids. We’ve come such a long way in three years. It’s become so important to me. I work full-time as a checker at a grocery store—that pays my bills. But this work feeds my heart.”
    “I don’t know that I have a lot of time, but I sure have some,” she said. “I think I’d like that. I think my heart needs a little something.”
     
    A S OFTEN HAPPENED after support group meetings, Dory’s thoughts turned to her own story as she drove home. She had lost her parents when she was young—she didn’t even remember them. Her mother and father were killed in a freak traffic accident. Though Dory had been in the car with them, she was not only spared, but uninjured. She was sent to live with her father’s much older brother and his wife. Her aunt and uncle took her in when they were already in their fifties, a couple who had not had children until she was sent to them.
    She grew up in Fresno, California, as an only child. The little Humboldt County house that she and her children now called home had been inherited from her uncle Joe. It was a very small three-bedroom, fifty-year-old vacation home and a place he hadstayed while on hunting trips. Dory remembered fun summers and long weekends there—running in the woods, fishing in the river, catching fireflies.
    There was no real reason for her to have ultimately found herself in an abusive marriage—she had been raised in a loving home. It wasn’t easy, though, when she was a young teen to have “parents” so much older than all the other moms and dads. Her aunt and uncle were understandably nervous and resistant to Dory’s idea of cool clothes, fun pastimes, acceptable behavior, music and friends. She’d roll up her skirt on the way to school, and while riding the bus put on