Page 31 of Forever We Embrace: The Later Years
13
Luca
Josie has been at Ember House long enough that Blossom no longer checks every form she completes, but I still review the care-coordination files assigned to her. That’s how I know the question she asks me shouldn’t exist anywhere in her work.
I’m reviewing next week’s staff assignments when she stops beside my desk with a resident’s care-coordination file held against her chest. Nothing in her expression or posture suggests urgency. She looks exactly as she always does at work: composed, attentive, and prepared to explain why whatever she’s asking is necessary.
“I wanted to clarify something before I finish the housing referral,” she says. “Was her first placement considered a secondary match, or did the sponsor withdraw before the transfer?”
My hand stills over the schedule.
Neither phrase appears in the file she’s holding. They don’t appear anywhere in Ember House’s staff system.
The resident came through a hospital referral after a short stabilization stay. Josie’s assigned work involves current housing requirements, transportation access, and whether the proposed program can accommodate ongoing medical care. Nothing in that assignment should’ve taken her near the circumstances of an earlier placement, and the details she’s referencing were never entered into the shared staff records.
“Where did you hear that?” I ask.
Josie shifts the file beneath one arm and answers without hesitation. “She mentioned it while we were talking yesterday. I thought it might affect which housing programs we approach.”
I know the conversation happened because two other staff members were in the common room at the time. I also know the resident wouldn’t have called her history a match, described anyone as a sponsor, or mentioned a transfer that isn’t recorded in any approved file.
I keep my attention on the schedule instead of Josie’s face. “Only use the information in the care-coordination file. Her prior placement isn’t relevant to the referral you’re completing.”
“Of course.” Josie places the folder on the corner of my desk and smooths one hand over its cover. “I’ll keep the referral limited to her current needs.”
She returns to her desk without asking another question.
I finish the schedule before I let myself look at her again.
Josie’s posture hasn’t changed. She types steadily, pauses to compare two forms, and answers Blossom when she calls from the hall about an appointment time. Nothing in her behavior suggests she knows she made a mistake.
That’s what makes the question worse.
When Josie leaves the office to take a call, I open the private incident log Maceo created for me. I record the time, the file shewas carrying, and the exact phrases she used in the restricted incident log. I don’t search her desk, confront her, or warn anyone else on staff. Until I know where the information came from, I won’t teach her which part exposed it.
I’m locking the entry when Blossom appears in the doorway.
“She’s here,” she says quietly.
Philomena’s intake was arranged the night before through a referral advocate who contacted Ember House after business hours. The advocate waits with her in the smaller reception area, speaking only when Philomena looks toward her for help.
Philomena’s coat is buttoned to her throat despite the warmth inside the building. A canvas bag hangs from one wrist, the strap wound twice around her hand. She watches Blossom approach but doesn’t move until the advocate asks whether she still wants to continue.
“Yes,” Philomena says. Her voice is rough, as if she hasn’t used it much. “I want to stay.”
Blossom’s words soften immediately. “Okay, baby. We’ll take this one step at a time.”
She guides them into the smaller consultation room and leaves the door open until Philomena chooses the chair nearest the window. The advocate sits beside her only after Philomena nods.
I don’t bring the full intake packet to the table. I set down one page, a pen, and a printed list of immediate services.
“What name do you want us to use?” I ask.
Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag. “You can use Philomena.”
“Okay, Philomena.” I sit across from her without moving the second chair closer. “We can handle food, a room, clothing, and medical care without discussing where you came from today. You can stop whenever you need to, skip any question, or ask me to leave.”
Her gaze moves from me to Blossom and then to the advocate beside her.
