Where Do I Go?
where do i go?
Other Novels by Neta Jackson Include:
The Yada Yada Prayer Group Series
The Yada Yada Prayer Group
The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Down
The Yada Yada Prayer Gets Real
The Yada Yada Prayer Gets Tough
The Yada Yada Prayer Gets Caught
The Yada Yada Prayer Gets Rolling
The Yada Yada Prayer Gets Decked Out
© 2008 by Neta Jackson
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc. books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
www.alivecommunications.com
Scripture quotations are taken from the following: THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
The New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
The King James Version of the Bible. Public domain.
Ann Marie Rousseau,
Shopping Bag Ladies
(Pilgrim Press, New York, 1981).
“I Go to the Rock,” words and music by Dottie Rambo. © 1977 New Spring, Inc. (ASCAP). Administered by Brentwood-Benson Music Publishing, Inc. Used by permission.
Publisher's Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jackson, Neta.
  Where do I go? / Neta Jackson.
      p. cm. â (A Yada Yada house of hope novel ; bk. 1)
  ISBN 978-1-59554-523-7 (trade pbk.)
  1. Christian womenâFiction. 2. Shelters for the homelessâFiction.
3. Chicago (Ill.)âFiction. I. Title.
  PS3560.A2415W47 2008
  813'.54âdc22                                                                         2008035948
Printed in the United States of America
08 09 10 11 12 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1
This series is dedicated to
the amazing staff of
Breakthrough Urban Ministries
and its “Joshua Center”
a shelter for homeless women in
Chicago, Illinois
who have literally created a “House of Hope”
for their many guests
In memory of
Dottie Rambo
whose song “I Go to the Rock”
provides both the theme for this series
and the titles of all three books
1934â2008
“To be without a home is to be invisible.”
Ann Marie Rousseau,
Shopping Bag Ladies
contents
The Yada Yada Brothers: A New Series
JUNE 1990, MONTPELLIER, FRANCE
The two American coeds stood at the apex of the tree-lined Esplanade, heads bent over their guidebook. Male passersby turned for a second glance, eyeing the youthful female bodies with lusty smiles. Tank tops, shorts, and Birkenstocks did little to cover the long, shapely legs and tan skin. Some slowed, hoping for a glance at the faces hidden by the straight, corn-silk hair of one and the rippling chestnut curls of the other, both worn long and whipping about in the wind coming off the large, open square sprawled before them.
“This is itâPlace de la Comédie
.
See the fountain up there?” The young woman with the red highlights sparking in the sun pointed to the far end of the square. “Let's go up that way and find a café. It's after one already.”
“But Gabby! The Polygone is right over there. It's like an American mall.” The leggy blonde tugged her friend's arm, pulling her to the left of the Esplanade and away from the square.
Gabby jerked her arm free. “Linda! You and your malls. I didn't come all the way to France to
shop
. Come on. I'm hungry.” She ran forward a few steps, then turned around but kept walking backward. “Come o-on! I'm going with or without you!” Then she ran on, laughing, backpack bumping on her back, threading through the other pedestrians filling the square.
Within moments she heard running footsteps and Linda's whine. “Wait up, Gabby!”
Laughing, Gabby locked arms with her companion as they walked to the far end of Place de la Comédie and approached the Fountain of Three Graces. They stopped, staring. The three graceful female figures stood atop a rocky mound of moss and green plants, with waterspouts pouring water into first one shallow basin surrounding the fountain, and then another. Several families with children sat on the smooth paving stones around the fountain, eating sandwiches and tossing crumbs to the pigeons that strutted about. A bald guy seated on a canvas stool nearby played a guitar, his guitar case open for the occasional francs. But the majority of warm bodies milling about the square or sitting on the ground around the fountain were youngâlate teens, early twentiesâand multinational. University students.
“
Mmm
,” Linda said.
“I know. It's beautiful.”
“I meant those two guys over there. Sitting by the fountain. Do you think they're French?”
Gabby slapped her friend's arm. “
You
are impossible!” She laughed. “Come on. There's an empty table over there, see? At that café. We'll have a great view of the Opera House and we can watch the fountainâoh! Oh wait! Look!” Gabby clapped her hands. “It's a carousel!”
Linda rolled her eyes. “So?”
“I want to ride it! I've never ridden a carousel before!”
“Gabby! Don't be silly! Those things go up and down
and
around. You get dizzy riding a stupid escalator . . . Oh, brother.”
A pair of eyes shaded by sunglasses followed the two young women as the curly-headed one ran up to the ticket booth, pointed at herself and her friend, paid their francs, and climbed onto the prancing carousel horses. The young man, sporting a loose shock of dark hair, poked his companion seated on the ground, his nose in a book, near the Fountain of Three Graces. “Hey, Cameron. Check out those girls.”
“Where? The carousel?” His light-haired companion shaded his eyes and watched as the carousel started up, the horses lifted up and down, and the girls' laughter sailed over the square. “Silly Americans,” he snorted. “Present company excepted, of course, Philip.” Cameron went back to his book.
That got a laugh. “Stuffy Brit. Maybe we should go ride it too. Be good for you, my man. Too much studying can ruin your youth!” But Philip's eyes stayed on the young woman with the long, curly hair as she came around, up and down, on her prancing mechanical horse, her head back, laughing . . . disappeared . . . and came around once more. But this time the American girl clung to the pole, eyes tightly shut.
The carousel finally stopped and the girl climbed off unsteadily, almost falling. Her friend grabbed her and for a moment seemed to be holding her up. Philip started to his feet. Was she okay? But at that moment the young woman straightened and tossed her hair back, brushing off her friend's attention with a laugh. The eyes behind the sunglasses followed as the girls headed for the outdoor seating of the café between the carousel and the Fountain of Three Graces.
“Hey, Cameron. Let's get something to eat, okay?” Philip snatched the book out of the other's hands. “Come on.”
His companion sighed, got to his feet, and grabbed for the book. By the time he repacked the book in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, Philip had already picked out an outdoor table at the same café.
Gabby sucked on the straw in her lemonade and then sighed happily. “I could sit here forever watching people in this square. It's like . . . so international!”
Linda took a sip of her iced coffee and frowned at the menu. “Yeah, well, I wish you'd sat
here
fifteen minutes ago, rather than ride that silly carousel. I thought you were going to throw up back there . . . Hey! Where'd the sun go?” Linda squinted upward as a shadow moved across the open square. “Better not rain,” she grumbled. “We haven't ordered yet.”