Ashley suggested a website. “We need a good name for it. You can link it to a blog about a single mom with a baby making it in the world. That would help drive traffic to your site.”
Grace gave a soft laugh. “I haven’t made it anywhere yet.”
“You will. God isn’t going to let you down.” Ashley stirred her coffee. “It’s the journey people want to read about.”
“You can offer several different services.” Shanice jotted notes. “You know how to write a good résumé. That’s a marketable skill right there. You helped your husband write his term papers, didn’t you? You could offer online editing. And tutoring.”
“Did you ever write slogans for that PR firm?” Ashley made herself comfortable on the sofa.
“Sometimes.” Harvey Bernstein had often asked her to help with brainstorming. She’d come up with a few one-liners still seen on billboards.
“Sometimes start-up companies need people to write slogans. They pay good money for them.”
Her friends’ confidence in God’s provision and in her skills bolstered Grace. She designed VirtualGrace.biz with free graphics. She listed her qualifications and services offered and wrote her first blog post.
She called Harvey Bernstein with her plan. He kept his eyes on the game and knew several people who might need her assistance. He even told her what prices she should charge. “These are up-and-comers who will expect to pay more, and you’re worth it. I just pulled up your website. Great job, Grace. That’ll get you work as well.” Harvey had always been an encourager.
The first inquiry came from the son of a friend of Harvey’s who had a start-up tech business and needed a brochure. He told her she’d been highly recommended, and sent his business plan and pictures.
Her first blog, “Sifting through the Rubble,” drew attention as well, especially after Shanice shared it with everyone she knew—old friends and new, church members, business associates at two studios. Ashley passed along the post to fellow teachers and administrators. Grace hadn’t expected her confessional to be of interest to anyone, but comments and e-mails poured into the website, most from women, half of them mothers. A few offered practical advice.
Selah kept calling. They had talked twice since Grace took Samuel, and both had been distressing conversations. Grace stopped answering. She hoped Selah would come to accept that her time with Samuel, while greatly appreciated, was now over. This was the tenth voice mail in two days. I know you’ve received my messages, Grace. Considering all I did for you, you could at least give me the courtesy of returning my calls. I want to know that Sammy is all right.
“Enough!” Shanice tossed the magazine she’d been reading on the coffee table. “Do you want me to call her back and tell her to stop harassing you?”
“She loves him, Shanice. I should’ve left their house when I first had Samuel instead of allowing her to feel false hope.”
“You told her. She just didn’t want to listen.” Shanice sat on the sofa next to Grace and put her arm around her. “Oh, honey, don’t feel so guilty. Samuel is your son, not hers.”
“I don’t know how to make it easier for her.”
“You told Selah when you moved to Topanga Canyon you intended to have Samuel full-time as soon as you could arrange for proper childcare. It’s been two weeks, and she’s still calling. Maybe you should change your phone number.”
“I know, but it feels so final.”
Shanice gripped her hand. “Don’t start lying to yourself. You’ve been hoping Roman would contact you again. And if he did, what would you do? Move in with him the way Nicole has with Charles? You saw how unhappy she was the last time we saw her. Is that what you want?”
“No.” Right now, she didn’t care about anything. She was miserable and aching to see him again. Be honest, Grace. In her current emotional state, Roman could easily make her forget her moral decision. A few more kisses like that one and she’d give in to what he wanted rather than what God wanted for her.
“Little boys want their toys, honey.”
Grace looked at Samuel playing contentedly on the floor and remembered the day Roman had come over to the cottage exhausted after nights without sleep. They’d talked, and he’d held Samuel on his knee. He’d stretched out on her sofa, Samuel on his chest, and both had fallen asleep. She sat, looking at them for the longest time. Samuel needed a daddy. Had she been hoping Roman would want to fill that role?