Chapter 49: A new home

The bus squeaked to a stop in a seedy section of town. "Here we are, my dear," Brother Holloway/Glubwart said. Seeing Mary was asleep, he gently tapped her shoulder. "Wake up, child. You're home. Time to meet your new friends and family. I'm sure you will love them as I do."
   Mary stretched and rubbed her eyes. Something felt different. She couldn't place it. Suddenly she knew -- she hadn't been dreaming. At least, she didn't remember her dream. She slid out of her seat and looked up at Brother Holloway/Glubwart, who was smiling an angelic smile. With an open palm, he invited Mary to exit the bus. When they had disembarked, Glubwart took Mary's arm. "This way."
   Brother Holloway/Glubwart's dazzlingly white suite was in stark contrast to the dirty, drab streets they walked down. "I must apologize for the neighborhood," he said, reading her thoughts. "But our lord also ministered to the poorest and lowest, did He not?"
   The streets became smaller and dirtier, until at last Brother Holloway/Glubwart turned down a dingy alley littered with trash and homeless men. The stench from large metal dumpsters was overpowering. "Do not be afraid, my dear," Glubwart said. These people are poor, but they -- most of them, that is -- are decent folk. I will always be with you. You are perfectly safe here."
   Brother Holloway/Glubwart took out a large leather purse from his pocket, fished out a key and opened a green door. Mary blinked. Inside, it was light and airy. Glubwart led the way down a narrow corridor, opened a side door and beckoned Mary to go in. The pleasant drawing room was bright and cheerful. Flowers were on a window sill. The window was shuttered, keeping out the dark. Inside was like a sweet-smelling oasis from the bleak outside.
   "Mrs. Emerson, please come," Holloway/Glubwart called. "Come meet the newest member of our family."
   A fat, jolly-faced black woman emerged from the kitchen, bringing with her delectable, intriguingly unidentifiable aromas. "Welcome, child," she said, and embraced Mary. Her huge, strong arms and copious bosom enveloped Mary, offering protection, sanctuary. "It's my special recipe," she said, when she released Mary and saw Mary's nose and eyes riveted on the kitchen door. Soon Mary was eating one of the most delicious meals she had ever eaten; a nostril-and-tastebuds extravaganza of succulent shrimp gumbo liberally populated by juicy fat sausages. She realized she was famished, which no doubt added to her enjoyment. Next, Mrs. Emerson opened the oven, which radiated the tantalizing smell of moist, chocolate-packed chocolate chip cookies.
   When Mary was stuffed and could eat no more, Mrs. Emerson showed Mary to her room. It was clean and comfortable, with fresh bed linens, neatly folded and tucked under a soft, plump pillow. "Everybody has their own room," Mrs. Emerson said. "You'll meet them all later. We're family, but even family needs to have their privacy sometime, ain't it so?"
    Mrs. Emerson left Mary alone. She closed the door, looked at her comfortable bed and sighed. For the first time in her life, Mary felt at home.