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overdue.”
    Apparently sarcasm is a national pastime. I think I’ll make it here just fine.

Chapter 9
    O ver a decade working in upper-level management in international corporations, and I can’t even get an interview with a small firm here!” Maureen slammed her laptop shut and stood from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. “Divorced, unemployed, unattractive—”
    “Maureen, you are beautiful and intelligent.”
    “And unemployed.”
    “Because of the recession. You know that. But something will work out. God has the perfect job out there for you. You just haven’t found it yet.”
    “Just like God had the perfect marriage for me?” Maureen spat. “I’m sorry, Natalia. But God and I aren’t on very good terms right now.”
    Natalia walked over to Maureen and took her hand. “Someone very wise once told me that the trials we face in our lives help shape us into the person Christ wants us to be.”
    Maureen shook her hand from Natalia’s, walked into the living room, and fell into an overstuffed chair. “Oh, Natalia. It’s easy to say that to someone else. It’s much harder to believe it when it’s happening to you.”
    “So you don’t believe anymore?” That couldn’t be true. Not after all the conversations she and Maureen had had, all the times Maureen had shown her verses that spoke to both their hearts. Maureen wouldn’t forsake the God she loved.
    “No, it’s not that.” Maureen sighed, raking her hand through her short, blond hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I wake up every morning thinking today is going to be different, but it never is. Every night I go to bed angry, hurt. Alone. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
    “Maybe you should talk to someone,” Natalia suggested. Not for the first time.
    “No,” Maureen shouted, crossing her arms and closing her eyes. “This is humiliating enough without crying to Pastor Brian or Carol about my problems.”
    “If your arm was broken, would you feel the same way?”
    “What?”
    “If you fell from the stairs and broke your arm”—Natalia sat on the couch across from Maureen—“would you go to the doctor and get it taken care of? Or would you sit at home and try to fix it yourself?”
    “That’s not the same.”
    “Maureen, your heart is broken. Your spirit is broken. There’s no shame in getting help so you can heal. That’s what the body of Christ is for, right? Pastor Eduardo backhome always said that. We help each other—mourn with those who mourn and weep with those who weep.”
    “I don’t know. Right now, I just want a job. I need a job. Once I have that then maybe I can think about seeing a counselor. Maybe.” Maureen stood and walked back to the table, then opened her laptop.
    The conversation was over. For now, anyway. All I can do is pray for her. God, help her. Make her see how much she needs you right now. Help her to forgive Papa and to forgive herself so she can move on.
    Natalia walked up the stairs and smiled when she entered her room. The Youngers and Jack had put everything together. No boxes in sight. Her dresser—tall, light-colored with six drawers—stood to her left, the bed sat under the window, the red curtains functioning as a backdrop to her headboard. On the right, she had a small desk with a rolling chair.
    Pulling the chair out, Natalia turned on her laptop. As she waited, Natalia looked at the picture on her desk—her last day of school. All her friends were smiling, Natalia in the center. They had thrown her a huge party. She laughed when they brought out hot dogs, fries, and apple pies.
    “We want to get a taste of what you’ll be eating from now on,” Carmen had joked.
    Natalia clicked on to the Internet and pulled up her e-mail. A note from Carmen, the title Please Come Back! screaming at her.
    Natalia read the message and laughed, amazed that Carmen could sound just as dramatic in an e-mail as she could in person.
    After