I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I was worse than a little kid at church when the Reverend Maple went into what I referred to as “disciple mode.” He could bring the congregation to its feet during a sermon, but he had the gift of gab so bad, he could talk the paint off the walls.
Here I was, a twenty-five-year-young woman, and I was fidgeting like a five-year-old. I paid close attention when Reverend mentioned New Orleans. It was a soft spot for me, like most people, because New Orleans was such an important city in Louisiana. Even though Shreveport is in northern Louisiana, we still felt the effect of the tragedy.
Reverend concluded, “So if anyone would be so kind as to be a host family, please meet with Mrs. Williams after the services.” I was among other church members who volunteered their home. After giving us information about the people we could possibly be hosting and taking our names, Mrs. Williams said, “We will have a meeting tomorrow night at seven for those who are still interested in being a host family.”
The next night I pulled into the church parking lot at six forty-five. Glancing around, I was pleased at my church family’s response to helping the evacuees.
“Sister Winfield,” Mrs. Williams said, giving me a hug. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you planning to host an entire family or a single?”
“Well, I only have one spare bedroom, but…” My jaw dropped and my eyes focused on the male who was standing behind Mrs. Williams. He had a patent on the word fine.
She turned around
. “Mr. Brown, I want you to meet Ms. Theresa Winfield. She will be your host family.”
He stuck his hand out and I shook it. He didn’t let go of my hand right away. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Winfield,” he said in the most delicious New Orleans accent.
“Oh, call me Theresa.”
“Okay, Theresa, but only if you call me Tony.”
“Deal.” I glanced at the retreating Mrs. Williams, who mouthed, You owe me, at me.
I suggested that Tony and I go out to eat to get to know each other better. Tony agreed. We were sitting at IHOP and I asked, “How long have you lived in New Orleans?”
“All my life. I graduated from Dillard—”
“A Dillard man,” I interrupted.
“And you know this.”
“What about your family?”
“It was just my mama and me growing up. She passed when I was twenty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, her life was very fulfilling. She was one of those women who knew how precious each moment was and lived life to the fullest.”
“And taught you to do the same,” I said rather than asked.
“Yep. And I teach that to my students.”
“What do you teach?”
“I teach sixth-grade English.”
“The sixth grade?”
“Yep, as kids make that transition from child to young adulthood. I love it.”
“I bet you do.”
“So what about you? What are you passionate about?”