Page 57 of More Than a Hero
"Okay, thanks." She pushed her reading glasses up onto her head and pressed the button on her phone. "This is Angie Brown. How may I help you?"
"Ms. Brown?"
The voice on the other end belonged to an older man. His tone was steady but carried a faint tremor, an edge of worry that sent a prickle of unease through her.
"Yes, this is Ms. Brown. Who is this, please?"
“This is Jed. Jed Reeves, ma’am.”
Recognition settled over her. Mr. Reeves was a familiar name, one of the clients who occasionally needed transportation when his daughter worked late shifts. He also received Meals on Wheels twice a week. Angie sat up straighter, her instincts sharpening.
“Mr. Reeves, what can I do for you? Is everything okay?”
“Not really, Ms. Brown. I… I’m sorry to have to call. I don’t want to be a burden, but things aren’t so good right now.”
His hesitance deepened her concern. She softened her voice. "Can you tell me what’s going on? Are you safe? Are you hurt or injured?”
“No, ma’am, nothing like that. It’s my grandson. Robert. When he gets off the bus, he helps with his brother and sister until his mom gets home—if she’s working during the day. But… but he’s been arrested.”
Angie inhaled sharply. “Arrested?”
She tried to recall what she knew about Robert. Teenager. Responsible. At least, that was her impression. But teenage boys could make mistakes, and whatever had happened, Mr. Reeves was clearly shaken.
“Do you need help at home? Someone to step in while your grandson can’t?”
“Yes, ma’am. Our neighbor’s real sweet—she watches the younger kids when she can. But my daughter’s upset, and she doesn’t know what to do. She switches between day and evening shifts and takes double shifts when she can for extra money. I just… I just don’t know how to help her.”
His voice wavered, and Angie’s heart clenched. “Are you at home alone right now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why don’t I come over? We can sit down, have some tea, and figure out a plan together.”
A small pause, then a breath of relief. “Oh my goodness, Ms. Brown. You’re an answer to my prayers.”
"Don’t worry about it. I’ll also notify Karen, our home visiting nurse. I know she checks in on you every other week. I’ll let her know I’m coming out and fill her in."
"That’s real nice of you, ma’am."
"Give me about twenty minutes, and I’ll be there."
After disconnecting, Angie glanced at her schedule. With a few adjustments, she could still get everything done. As the headof ESAAA, her job was largely administrative, but she loved getting out into the community when she could. The adoptive grandparents’ program gave her a sense of purpose, and if she could ease Mr. Reeves’s worries, she’d gladly make the time.
She dialed Karen and quickly explained the situation. "If I get there and he seems distressed, I’ll call one of the nurses to check on him."
"That sounds good," Karen agreed. "Let me know if I need to move him up in my schedule."
Angie ended the call, fired off a few emails, and grabbed her satchel. Slipping it over her shoulder, she strode out the door, pausing just long enough to inform the receptionist where she was headed.
As she slid into her car, another thought nagged at her. Her rheumatologist appointment was later that afternoon, and she really didn’t want to miss it. The swelling in her knee hadn’t gone down, and she knew Pete was worried. He’d already told her how much he hated seeing her in pain.
She exhaled as she started her car. If she handled things efficiently with Mr. Reeves, she’d still make it to her appointment. At least, she hoped so. With one last glance at her watch, she pulled out onto the road, determination settling deep in her chest.
Soon, she was climbing the worn steps of the apartment building. The structure had seen better days—its once-white paint had faded to a dull gray, and rust clung to the metal railings. A few people lingered at one end of the building, their voices low, their gazes watchful. For the most part, it seemed like a decent place to live, but unease coiled in her stomach. She had no idea why Robert had been arrested, but she prayed it wasn’t linked to drugs or gangs preying on this neighborhood. She hated to think of the boys in their group, or any children, being exposed to that danger.
She knocked on Mr. Reeves’s door, hearing the soft shuffle of movement inside before the locks clicked. The door creaked open, and he peered out, his lined face weary but warm.
"Oh, I’m so glad to see you using your walker. The last time I visited, you were still in your wheelchair."
