Yolanda’s Ray of Sunshine

  Yolanda’s Ray of Sunshine

  S.E. Smith

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank my husband, Steve, for believing in me and being proud enough of me to give me the courage to follow my dream. I would also like to give a special thank you to my sister and best friend, Linda, who not only encouraged me to write, but who also read the manuscript. Also, to my other friends who believe in me: Julie, Jackie, Christel, Sally, Jolanda, Lisa, Laurelle, Debbie, and Narelle. The girls that keep me going!

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  And a special thanks to Paul Heitsch, David Brenin, Samantha Cook, Suzanne Elise Freeman, PJ Ochlan, Vincent Fallow, L. Sophie Helbig, and Hope Newhouse—the outstanding voices behind my audiobooks!

  – S. E. Smith

  Contemporary Fiction

  YOLANDA’S RAY OF SUNSHINE:

  A Girls From The Streets Novella

  Copyright © 2022 by S.E. Smith

  First E-Book Published August 2022

  Cover Design by S.E. Smith

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  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission from the author.

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  All characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations are strictly coincidental.

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  Summary: The story of woman, lost in despair, who discovers a new purpose in life when she finds an abandoned baby and vows to raise her as her own.

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  ISBN: 978-1-956052-83-1 (eBook)

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  Published by Montana Publishing, LLC

  & SE Smith of Florida Inc. www.sesmithfl.com

  Contents

  Personal Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Additional Books

  About the Author

  Synopsis

  She was born on the streets and would pass her knowledge to her daughter…

  * * *

  Yolanda Yates’ life has been one of hardship and despair. She finds a new lease on life when she discovers an abandoned baby behind a dumpster in a back alley. She will do everything in her power to love, protect, and teach her daughter that families aren’t always born together, sometimes you have to find and make them.

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  Find out how powerful a mother’s love can be in this heartfelt novella from The Girls from the Street series!

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  A NY Times and USA Today bestselling author, the internationally acclaimed S.E. Smith presents a new story with her signature humor and unpredictable twists! Over TWO MILLION books sold!

  Personal Note

  from the Author

  This story is dedicated to my mom and grandmother who gave me a love for the woods and who continue to live on through me.

  * * *

  Hi everyone,

  The Girls from the Street series captured my imagination late last year and early this year. The stories, starting with Something About Aimee, were like many of my other books; they are filled with action, adventure, suspense, romance, and my signature humor. The women are spunky, the guys alpha but compassionate with a hint of vulnerability that melts my heart.

  * * *

  The stories called to me and I knew I had to write them. But, at the same time they’re different from my usual style because they are contemporary. To all my sci-fi and fantasy fans, there’s magic and wonder in these books, too! It’s just the kind of goodness we can all find in our lives. As I wrote the series, I fell in love with the characters, including Yolanda, Aimee’s adoptive mom. I hiked the Appalachian Trail this year, and while I was persevering, I could almost hear Yolanda and Aimee begging me to share their unique story. I hope you enjoy their story as much as I do.

  * * *

  Hugs,

  Susan

  aka S.E. Smith

  One

  Yolanda barely heard the laughter of the teenagers as they ran away. Her shattered mind was insulated from their cruelty. They could only hurt her physically.

  She remained curled in a fetal position, protectively cradling the treasured bundle in her arms in case the group returned. Bitter tears burned her eyes as she brushed a trembling hand over the baby blanket and cooed a soothing note of reassurance. Shivers of cold and fear wracked her body as she lay on the dirty pavement.

  “It’s okay, baby. They’re gone now. It’s nothing but stuff. We can always get more stuff,” she murmured.

  She struggled to sit up without loosening her hold. Glancing around the deserted, dank alley, she released a shuddering breath before gently lowering the small stiff figure to her lap. Her vision remained watery as she stared down at the inanimate eyes. She moved the doll until its eyelids closed. Only when the fake eyelashes rested upon the doll’s rose-painted cheeks did she lift a shaking finger to caress the doll’s face.

  A low, agonized moan slipped past her slightly parted lips. The pain she was feeling went deeper than the bruises caused by the teens’ punches and kicks. This was a pain that only a mother who had lost everything that mattered to her could feel.

  “Yolanda, are you okay?” a deep voice inquired.

  Yolanda looked up and blinked her tears away. She silently nodded to the huge man standing over her. She tried not to flinch when he reached down, gently gripped her elbow, and helped her to her feet.

  “I’ll have a word with Clive. That gang won’t bother you again,” the man quietly assured her.

  “They’s just misguided kids. You scare ‘em right, Harlem, and they’ll be fine,” she muttered, cradling the plastic doll tighter to her chest.

  “Even I can’t perform a miracle,” Harlem Jones replied with a chuckle before growing serious. “Do you need medical attention?”

  Yolanda jerked backward, shaking her head as her back hit the brick wall behind her. No, she didn’t need medical attention—ever! She would never allow the system to know she existed again.

  “I need to get home,” she said, not looking Harlem in the eye.

  “I’ll help you gather your stuff,” Harlem replied.

  Yolanda reluctantly relinquished her precious bundle to settle it into the battered, dark blue stroller that Harlem righted for her. She carefully tucked the clean baby blanket more securely around the doll when a frigid breeze cut through the alley. It was going to be a cold night.

  Together, they retrieved the scattered items that made up Yolanda’s life. It could all fit into a cardboard box small enough to be carried in the netting of the baby stroller she had found a few weeks ago. She didn’t need much.

  In order to survive living on the streets, she needed to move quickly. The attack this afternoon was a perfect example of why. If the stroller wheel hadn’t caught in a crack in the pavement, she might have made it through the alley to the next street where she could have found refuge among the daily commuters.

  As it was, she had barely rescued her baby girl before the bored gang of roving teens found her. She bent to retrieve the patchwork blanket she had made and winced when the bruise in her side protested the movement.

  The shelter will be full by the time I get there, she thought with despair.

  “I think that’s it. I can give you some money if you need a place to stay tonight,” Harlem offered.

  “No,” Yolanda mumbled.

  She would never be beholden to anyone ever again. Harlem had done enough. He had chased the gang away, help
ed her pick up her stuff, and if he kept his promise—which she knew he would—she would be safe from that gang in the future. When Harlem Jones spoke, everyone listened. The man was a legend and a mystery.

  Yolanda glanced up at the huge bear of a black man. He was handsome. His light brown eyes were sharp, intelligent. His short-cropped hair was flat on top. He had a wide nose and a strong square jaw. If she were to stretch her thin arms as wide as she could, she would be lucky if her fingertips spanned the width of his broad shoulders. Of course, she was barely five-foot tall and weighed less than a hundred pounds soaking wet.

  “Take this. If you need anything, contact me. I’ll see that it is taken care of,” Harlem said, holding out a business card.

  Yolanda snatched the card from his hand before curling her hand under her arm to warm her cold fingers. She watched as Harlem melted into the shadows of the alley, disappearing just as he had appeared—a ghost from the streets. She tucked the card into the pocket of her worn coat.

  Her head jerked toward the baby carriage as if she had heard a whimper. She tenderly caressed the hard plastic face, her expression softening with love and regret. Her life had always been hard, but for a brief period, there had also been hope and happiness.

  “Oh, Aimee. I miss you,” she whispered, tears chilling in the cold wind as they coursed down her cheeks.

  Once again, depression engulfed her and she wondered if it wouldn’t just be easier to give in to the madness and let it take her. Her heart and body hurt so much. She didn’t think the pain would ever stop. How could a person survive such agony day in and day out?

  The sounds of the city faded as she stared blindly down at the doll’s sleeping face and imagined her infant daughter lying there, snuggled warmly in the blankets that she had made for her. She had only held her precious daughter for a few hours before Social Services came in and took her away.

  Alone at sixteen years old, she hadn’t known what to do and there had been no one to guide her. She had fallen in love with a young gang member, not much older than the boys who had attacked her this afternoon. Maurice had been killed in a drive-by shooting by a rival gang.

  Yolanda slid her hand to her stomach. She hadn’t realized she was pregnant until her fifth month. Even then, she had kept it hidden. The precious life growing inside her was the only family she had, and she would do everything in her power to keep and protect it.

  Once she went into premature labor, her lack of prenatal care, the fact that she was in and out of foster care, and her limited education had all been used against her. They had taken her daughter from her shortly after she gave birth with the promise that if she changed her ways and proved she could be a good mother, she would get custody of Aimee.

  With that promise, she had thrown herself into making a better life for herself and her daughter. School had always been boring, but now she had a focus and she applied herself. Her Social Worker gave her updates about Aimee at first, encouraging her to push herself with promises and pictures of a smiling, happy baby. She had taken every class available, pushing the school counselor to allow her to dual-enroll at the local community college. By eighteen, she had graduated with both a high school degree and her Associate’s Degree, all while working two part-time jobs and saving every dime she could. She earned a scholarship and qualified for housing assistance so she could move into her first apartment.

  The future was bright and she was on fire. She would give her daughter everything that had been denied her and more. She would nurture her daughter’s love for learning and watch her grow into a beautiful, strong woman who would make a difference.

  Yolanda startled when a car blared its horn behind her. She wiped away her tears with trembling fingers. She was tired—so very, very tired. Tired of both the physical and mental pain. Tired of trying to survive in a world that didn’t care. Tired of being alone.

  Perhaps tonight will be a good time just to let go, she thought, looking up when the first flakes of winter swirled around her.

  The wheels of the buggy made a rhythmic tap-tap-tap as she pushed it into a narrow recess between two buildings. She was heading for an alley a few streets over that was more secluded. No one liked to go there because it was short and there was no exit. She had set up home there a few nights ago.

  This alley opened into a small area where a group of large, green dumpsters lined the back wall of a third building. She was walking by the fourth dumpster when a soft whimper carried above the noise of the wind and traffic.

  She tilted her head, listened for a moment, then hung her head as fresh tears overcame her. She stared down at the doll in the carriage, her heart swelling with pain. The last fragile hold she had on her mind was beginning to snap.

  “Waaa!”

  Yolanda whirled, her heart stuttering with shock at the sound. Abandoning the carriage, she opened the lid of the dumpster. She frantically scanned the dim interior, wishing she had a light. The sound was gone again and fear gripped her body, almost paralyzing her.

  “Please, let me know where you are,” she choked out.

  She was too short to see properly inside the dumpster. She needed something to stand on. She desperately searched the alley. A pallet was tilted haphazardly against the wall. She headed for it, only to stop when the whimper came again.

  “Speak to me, baby. Speak to me. Yell to the moon and back. Tell me where you are,” she ordered in a voice that grew stronger with her sense of desperation. “Cry, baby!”

  The whimper grew louder, as if responding to her command. Yolanda followed the sound around the side of the dumpster. She would have missed the tiny baby wrapped in a soiled T-shirt if a petite arm hadn’t fought free of the fabric and reached out.

  Her body trembling with emotion, Yolanda squeezed into the narrow gap between dumpsters and tenderly lifted the infant into her arms. As she did, a pair of curious, violet eyes stared up at her in wonder. Curly hair the color of the night sky during a blackout framed the baby’s small round head.

  Yolanda covered the bare fingers with her own cold hands. The infant wrapped her tiny fingers around one of hers. In that moment, something that had been broken and dead inside her flared to life and grew. As if some other-worldly, powerful being was trying to give her a message, the late afternoon clouds suddenly parted and a single shaft of sunlight shone down, highlighting the contrast between her dark fingers and the pale ones of the little girl she held cradled in her arms.

  The baby smiled at her, yawned, and closed her eyes. Yolanda closed her own eyes and bowed her head to kiss the baby’s forehead. She was being given a purpose—a second chance—and she would not mess it up this time.

  “My beautiful Aimee. My beautiful daughter. Momma will protect you and show you how beautiful the world can be,” she vowed, rising to her feet.

  Two

  Five years later:

  * * *

  “Momma,” Aimee called before bursting into Italian.

  “English for Momma, Aimee,” Yolanda laughed.

  “But how am I going to get better if I only speak in English?” Aimee complained.

  “You can talk to Mrs. Rossi like you do every day,” Yolanda teased.

  “But, Momma, you said learning makes you… makes you….”

  Yolanda chuckled and kissed Aimee’s forehead. “Una persona più intelligente e a tutto tondo ?” A smarter, more well-rounded person?

  Aimee’s eyes grew wide and she excitedly nodded. “Sì! Molto bene, mamma!” Yes! Very good, Momma!

  For a brief second, Yolanda closed her eyes and absorbed the moment as she did every day since Aimee had come into her life. When she felt small fingers grip her hand, she looked into Aimee’s worried violet eyes and brushed a reassuring hand down Aimee’s cheek.

  “I’m simply enjoying the warmth,” Yolanda said.

  “It’s not warm out.”

  “Ah, but for me it is, because the sun left a ray of sunshine that warms and lights even the darkest corners of the world.”
r />   Aimee tilted her head to peer up at the sky with a puzzled expression. Yolanda adjusted the brightly-colored, flower-patterned raincoat that she had picked up for Aimee a few minutes before at the Goodwill store.

  “Where is the sunshine?” Aimee asked.

  “In here,” Yolanda murmured, pressing her hand over Aimee’s heart.

  Aimee thoughtfully looked at her for several seconds before a slow smile lit up her face and she threw her arms around Yolanda’s neck to hug her tightly.

  “I love you, Momma,” Aimee whispered. “I’ll always light up your life and make you warm. I promise.”

  Tears welled in Yolanda’s eyes, and she held Aimee’s thin body tightly against her.

  Of course, it was raining and cold. Water dripped from the eve of the awning they were standing under, causing droplets to dance along the sidewalk. Instead of seeing dismal weather, Yolanda saw awe-inspiring magnificence, and she wanted to share every moment with Aimee. Oh, there was plenty of darkness, too, but life was too short to dwell on it. She had spent enough time in that darkness and never wanted to go back. She sure as heck had no intention of letting that darkness take over her ray of sunshine.

  That was why she had called the number on the card Harlem had given her. She had asked for help that day—and Harlem had stood by his promise. A small loan she had promised to repay, some help with paperwork, a way to vanish, and protection on the streets had given her the hand up that she needed to care for Aimee.