“Life on the streets is hard but it’s deadly when a young woman battles addiction.”
From the Publisher: “Where is home… when you’re homeless?
Selah gets through life using lies, sex, and faux concern as a veneer to forget the past and to achieve personal gain. She barely tolerates her job bringing medicine to the streets. Will is the only man who has refused her body. She resents that his God stands between them.
Will pastors the homeless no matter who or where they are. He conceals a past that is anything but pure. His biggest temptation is his love for Selah. But he refuses to compromise his faith.
When Selah’s deceased husband appears to her—more dangerous in death than in life—the careful control she has used to cope slips away. Evil takes control as she falls far from the life she had carefully planned. And then farther still.
Selah must make a radical choice as an epic spiritual battle rages. Because she has finally found a love worth protecting at all costs.
Is there redemption at the intersection of brutal reality and saving grace?
Searching For Home is a gripping and too-real tale of love, addiction, and redemption; written by the one woman, Laurel Houck, who has championed salvation for hundreds of people. This amazing tale will have you brushing tears from your cheeks and will show you a hidden world our eyes have skipped over as we travel through big cities and small.
All proceeds from the sale of this book will benefit homeless outreach, Light In My City, www.lightinmycity.org.”
More info About the Author: Local author Laurel Houck has traveled the road of writing since, at the age of six, she penciled her first book, Crawls the Caterpillar. With stops along the way for newspaper and magazine articles, she has published two Young Adult novels, a Christian devotional of original poetry, and is soon releasing an adult novel.
Along with advocacy for the homeless, she is a medical missionary, bringing healthcare to the most remote regions of the world. When not involved in a project, Laurel hangs out with family and friends, reads, volunteers, and hikes with her Cavachon puppy, Lucy. And she also happens to be the world’s biggest fan of chocolate milkshakes.
Author Site Don’t miss out: Houck will be launching Searching for Home at Mystery Lovers Bookshop at 7:00 PM on November 14th. You can also catch her at Greensburg/Hempfield Area Library on November 30th (and keep an eye on our calendar for other local events)!
Book Launch
There is a romance between the two main characters, Selah and Will. It happens under the storm cloud of addiction, pain, and homelessness. ‘Paranormal’ implies fantasy. It may be viewed as such by some. But from my perspective, it is a set of characters and circumstances that are entirely possible from a Christian perspective. It’s up to the reader to decide for themselves how to internalize it.
You’ve always written fairly clean Young Adult or Christian books. Why an adult novel with dark themes such as rape, child abuse, drug use, and profanity?
Yes, quite a controversial change! Searching for Home is set in the homeless camps in Pittsburgh. My son has a homeless outreach, Light in My City, here in the ‘Burgh. Through him and others I’ve been able to meet and provide medical care to those on the street. To write a story that is realistic, it is by definition of the venue, filled with brutality. Spoiler alert: there is also hope.
Homelessness is ubiquitous in our nation and in our city. We see it everywhere. What is there to learn that’s new or revelatory?
My personal take on the homeless used to be that they were already at the societal and socioeconomic bottom and ended up even worse off. But in meeting people and listening to their stories, I came to realize that anyone–even you or me–is a very short step away from the same plight. And that once the streets have claimed you, it’s not a simple matter of “get a job” or “get off drugs” to solve the multifaceted problem.
Did you have a goal in mind when writing this?
Two goals, actually. First of all, I want readers to feel what it’s like to be homeless, not just to see the problem but to see the person. We can’t hope to solve something so complex if we remain on the periphery. Of course to feel it means to be uncomfortable at times. Second, I want readers to know that no matter how far any of us falls, there is always a way back up. Oh, and all proceeds from the book will go to benefit the work of Light in My City. www.lightinmycity.org
Is this a really depressing story?
Not at all… well, maybe somewhat. Certainly, the circumstances that lead to Selah’s fall are very sad. The big but is that there is always hope. And it manages to shine in the most desperate of places.
Chapter One
With a whoosh and a squeal, the train’s air brake engaged as it neared the bulk transfer terminal in close proximity to the city of Pittsburgh. When it slowed almost to a stop, several men hopped off and scurried away from the tracks. A large scruffy dog of undetermined linage leaped out of the boxcar, sat down, and waited on the gravel. One young man exited last. He stood still until the train rumbled past. A worn backpack hung over one shoulder. Layers of filthy clothing—thermals, plaid shirt and jeans, and an ancient brown Carhartt jacket—covered his body. The dog didn’t move until the man gave him a pat on the head; it ran into the woods, squatted, and returned.
“Good dog.” The guy’s curly hair—medium brown and in bad need of a wash and a cut—stuck out in points. A sparse growth of whiskers covered what otherwise could have been called a baby face. But his bright blue eyes were clear and alert, almost sparkling in the January sunshine.
“You, hobo.” A railway employee, white haired and stooped, shook one fist as he limped toward him through melting, dirty snow. “Don’t yinz know it’s illegal to ride the rails?”
The dog growled low in its throat, but obeyed the soft command from the young man, “Nissi, stay.”
The boy took in the embroidered name tag on the worker’s jacket and nodded. “Thanks for the ride, Leonard. I’m Torque. Nice to meet you.” He headed for the path the other men had taken into the tree line area adjacent to the tracks. “Maybe someday I’ll return the favor.”
With a muttered curse, Leonard turned and walked away, leaning on his cane. Several feet down the tracks he stopped, stood up straight, and shook his leg. He turned to scan the woods. “My leg don’t hurt no more…where in tarnation did that guy go?”
In the sudden silence after the train departed and Torque entered the woods, a burst of sunshine bathed him in light. He smiled, hitched up the backpack, whistled to Nissi, and walked toward the city.
* * *
Selah stubbed out her cigarette under the heel of her black leather boot. She had recently switched from Timberlands to Dear Frances. Pricier but also much more stylish even for combat-style boots. Like anyone on the street cared about fashion.
“Dear Frances? Did someone die and leave you money?” Will raised one eyebrow. “Walking the runway today instead of feeding the homeless?”
“Only you would recognize the brand. At the price, I’ll be wearing them to my grave.” Selah held up one foot. “I don’t know if your metrosexual vibe is good, because you noticed, or bad, because I have to work harder.”
Will grinned and tugged on his black leather jacket. “I could care less what you wear. As long as I look good.”
Selah let her eyes linger on Will’s broad shoulders, accentuated by the matte leather, his narrow waist, encircled by tight jeans, and slender fingers with a cross tattoo on his right pointer. Oh my, what those hands could do given half a chance. He would likely be as passionate and considerate in bed as he was on the streets. For a brief moment a frisson of heat wound through Selah’s body, then quickly dissipated. Imagine, fantasizing about a pastor.
“No worries, my metro friend. Every woman in the ‘Burgh has the hots for you.”
Will laughed, his green eyes crinkling at the corners, a nice contrast to the white blond of his latest-style haircut. “Yeah, right. All but one.” His grin dimmed as he gazed at Selah, but he covered with another laugh.
They walked together toward the weekly outdoor area where meals were served to the local homeless population of Pittsburgh. Few pedestrians were out, in spite of the late January sunshine. Many of those who had decided to take advantage of the decent winter day were dressed in black and gold, usual attire for die-hard Steelers football fans who were gearing up for the Super Bowl. It wasn’t hard to differentiate between the prosperous and those who had been given a hand-me-down tattered shirt or tousle cap. The first group laughed and drifted into bars and restaurants. The latter shuffled on the periphery, eyes down, headed for the square and the scent of baked ham.
Popping a mint into her mouth, Selah surveyed the long line already assembled by the food table. “Gonna be a busy day.”
“If you keep smoking, you won’t live long enough to worry about it. I thought nurses were all about being healthy.” Will accepted the mint she held out to him.
“Nurses are into their paychecks, like everyone else.”
“So cynical for an angel of mercy.” Will snorted.
They parted ways. Selah scanned the assembled crowd with a critical eye for wounds, serious coughs, and anything else that required medical attention, already eager to be done for the day. Why waste her time ladling out mashed potatoes? Serving food could be accomplished by the unskilled volunteers.
Behind her, a chorus of “Hey, Preach,” sounded. Will could pray all day with every displaced soul in the city, and tomorrow they would still be homeless and needy. And hungry.
An hour later several fights had been broken up as the crowd vied for the best pieces of clothing in the giveaway pile. Most of the food had either been distributed or packaged for delivery to the camps. Selah reached for a bag filled with Styrofoam boxes and stopped, hands in mid-air.
A tall man—really a boy, he couldn’t be more than eighteen—she had never seen before made his way to the table. He licked chapped lips and stared at the place where food used to be. The only thing left, the rich scent of ham, wouldn’t fill an empty belly.
“Hey, there.” Selah approached him but kept a good distance between them. “Are you hungry?”
His gaze left the table and rested on her. “You’re short.”
Selah rolled her eyes. “And you’re tall. But the question is, do you want something to eat?”
He gestured to the tables, which were now being taken down. “There’s nothing left. Unless you have a miracle stashed somewhere. A little loaves and fishes magic, maybe?”
Selah found his tone irritating. She dredged up the proper amount of faux compassion in her words. “There’s more. No worries. I’m Selah. I’m a nurse, and I take care of people out here. What’s your name?”
“Do you care?”
I don’t give a crap came to Selah’s mind, but she managed a smile. “God help me, that’s why I asked. But you don’t have to tell me.”
He shrugged and pulled up one sleeve to display a crude tattoo of a wrench. “Torque.” After surveying her for a moment he added, “Do you always ask God to help you? And does he?”
“Just a figure of speech. No real meaning. I always refer God questions to the pastor over there.” She gestured toward Will; his arms loaded with a stack of take-out boxes he added to a pile already on a bench beside his SUV. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“Cool.” Torque touched Selah’s hand. “Thanks.”
Selah pulled back from him.
“Oh, got it. No touching.”
“It’s just…” Selah reached out and clasped his hand with a firm grasp.
Her palm tingled, a mixture of fire and ice that shot tremors up her arm. She wanted to let go but she couldn’t. Her eyes focused on his fingernails, encrusted with dirt and grease, red lesions on his knuckles—scabies perhaps—and frayed cuffs of a flannel shirt peeking out from under the sleeves of a dirty brown Carhartt jacket.
The sight, familiar. The feeling, unknown. Electric. But not sexual. How was that even possible?
Torque let go first. “I’m hungry.”
“Oh. Of course. Follow me.” They walked together toward the packaged meals. “How old are you?”
“Want to guess?” Torque stopped and gestured up and down his six-plus feet.
Selah figured he wouldn’t be honest, but took a shot. “Eighteen?”
“Close enough.”
Which meant he might be younger and not want to get involved with juvenile agencies. In spite of his strength and appearance, he didn’t seem all that ready for street life. “Maybe we can get you connected to some people. Help you find your way home.”
Torque didn’t answer.
Selah shrugged. Unlikely he had any kind of home to return to, anyway. As a mandated reporter she should call social services. Maybe later. It would take up too much of her precious time.
She gave him a boxed meal, realizing her schedule would now be set back if she lingered any longer. He would either be around to tell his story another day. Or not. Someone else could talk to him about surviving in the city if he didn’t have local connections.
Will walked up as Torque set his half-empty container on the ground. A dog loped over and finished the food. Torque threw the trash in a nearby garbage bag.
Will held out his hand to shake. “I’m Pastor Will.”
Torque cocked his head and frowned, his hands at his sides.
Will smiled. “I don’t think we’ve met before. You must be new out here.” He bent down and patted the dog’s head. “And I certainly would have remembered this guy. What’s his name?”
“Nissi.”
Will peered at Torque. “As in Jehovah Nissi—God is my banner, my protector?”
Torque shrugged.
Selah chuckled. She’d seen Will wait out many who were reluctant to talk. There were times when she wanted to spill her secrets to him and get absolution or whatever the hell preachers gave out.
“Where are you staying?” Will, at ease in his own skin, oozed warmth and kindness, which seemed to be genuine.
“What do you care?” Torque took a quick step forward, fists clenched.
Will stood his ground and nodded. “I get it. Not a crap-load of caring going on in your life right now. And frankly, I don’t have the capacity to care for you or to love you like you deserve to be loved. I’m just a guy like you.”
Torque gave a slow, deliberate perusal of Will’s soft hands, shaved face, and neat hair. “Uh-huh, right. We could be twins.”
Will shrugged and walked away toward the curb and his Ford Explorer.
“Was it something I said?” Torque laughed. It had no ring of humor to it.
Selah, who just wanted to finish the day and get home to a hot bath and a cold beer, had been left to placate the boy. Maybe Will was a bastard after all. Being a man made that almost certain. But the thought carried a whiff of disappointment.
“Here you go.” Will returned, arms laden. “I suspect you’re a traveler, just off the train, so here’s the low down. There’s a camp up through those woods. It’s okay. You might not get a welcome, but they won’t chase you away. They’ll know I sent you up when they see this.” Will set a small lantern on the ground. “Solar or hand crank, has a phone charging port and a radio. Here’s a sleeping bag, and I’ll try to get you a tent in the next few days. Also, water, protein bars, body wipes, toilet paper. All the comforts.”
“So, you’re into being the guy who helps us poor, filthy people with no home.” Torque’s mouth twisted into a grimace of distain.
“This isn’t about you or me. It’s for Jesus.”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” Torque gathered the things and headed into the woods. The dog trotted after him.
“Think he’s trouble?” Selah crossed her arms and watched Torque disappear into the barren winter landscape. He had an aura of potential power, which could mean danger under that young façade.
“Nah. I’ll talk to him more when I find a tent he can use. Let’s get done.” Will took the bag of meals from Selah and walked to his car. “I’ll follow you.”
Leaving the Northside in her Subaru Outback, Selah drove to three local camps. While Will handed out the food, she cleaned and dressed deep Xylazine wounds, gave out Lotrimin cream for ringworm, and applied Silvadene and Vaseline gauze to arms seared on burn barrels.
At the final stop, a crowd had gathered in the center of the tent camp. Selah would have driven away, but Will had parked behind her blocking her in. He jumped out of his car and ran toward the commotion. Selah followed but stayed behind him. As they got closer, the swearing, shouting, and scent of gasoline became overwhelming.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Will, not known for his good judgment, waded into the fray. “Put that down. Karma, leave it alone. Rose, go back to your tent. C’mon guys, knock it off.”
The crowd parted. In the center stood Torque, gasoline dripping from his hair, a tree branch in his hand. Across from him Devil Dog—well known as someone to avoid—brandished a lighter.
“Never bring a club to a firefight, asshole.” Devil Dog held up a blue plastic lighter. “Wanna see me click my Bic?”
Torque laid the tree branch on the ground and stood up straight. “I’m not afraid of you.” He glanced toward Will and Selah, then back to Devil Dog.
“You’re delusional.” Devil Dog leered at Selah and pretended to cross himself to Will before flicking on a yellow flame.
Torque held out both arms, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Do it.”
This excerpt is published here courtesy of the author and should not be reprinted without permission.
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