Eyes back on her work, thoughts continued to bombard her. Did her distance signal something other than reserve? Maybe she did come off as cold, or “a brick” like Chris said. And why did Chris say it was nice to know she cared? Did either of them think she didn’t care about them?
Realization dawned, and sorrow came with it. Judgmental and cold. What a lousy witness that was. She figured she’d been a good example of someone quiet, hardworking and diligent, not disapproving or uncaring. But they obviously perceived her that way. She stopped working and sank onto the unyielding surface of a kitchen chair.
She never held herself away from people she was comfortable with, like her family, or church friends. And children. She was always at ease around them. But somehow, at work, she gave off an icy impression. Distant. Jesus didn’t. If she was following Him, her open heart should be evident to everyone, not only people she felt safe with.
But how was she supposed to deal with people like Mark, who seemed to delight in annoying her? Well…not with cold disapproval. She sighed and bowed her head.
I just want to do good things and help people. But I guess I really have judged Mark, and been cold. I’m sorry. And he was kind to me today, though I haven’t been that way to him. I’m ashamed, Father. But I can do better. I’m sorry I didn’t see this sooner. But I see it now, and I’ll change it.
Julie straightened and took a deep breath. After she slid the beef bones into the oven and loaded a bag with leftovers and containers of soup she’d already made, she glanced around her kitchen. She so seldom made time to decorate it or do anything more creative than making food in it. Her table centerpiece was vegetables that needed to be processed.
She giggled. Not such a bad decoration after all. God’s handiwork not only nourished people, but the bright colors of vegetables always made her smile. “See you later, kitchen,” she sang out and headed to grab her coat.
CHAPTER SIX
Mark turned the key to the door of the darkened restaurant and hurried inside out of the cold night air. He must have left his phone charger somewhere in the back room. Time to buy an extra and leave one here. He located the charger quickly, but stood still in the kitchen instead of leaving.
What a different sensation to stand here in this room that normally vibrated with energy and noise. Every clean surface bore a soft shine in the glow cast by the dimmed light over the sink. The smooth squeak of his sneakers when he walked in meant the cleaning man already finished the floors. How sticky they got after a long dinner service, even though he and Julie were pretty tidy cooks. But Chris was another story.
Mark chuckled at mental images of Chris’s hectic cooking style. The constant spatters on stovetop and counter, remnants of salt, spices, or sugar crunching under their feet while they churned around the kitchen near his work area. Sometimes his station looked as though a troop of clowns were let loose in it. Even so, Chris always did his share of cleaning with everyone else.
Once in their early weeks together when the steakhouse opened, Mark asked, “Why don’t you clean as you go, or work a bit slower so you won’t have so much cleanup later?”
Chris had stopped working, crossed his arms and regarded him with upraised brows. “I can’t very well re-learn everything differently now. This is how I cook, how I’ve always cooked. If I change it now, I’ll screw up my whole rhythm. Sorry if it bothers you.”
Mark had shaken his head. “It’s no bother to me. I just figured it would save you some time at the end of the night.”
Chris had chucked Mark’s shoulder. “I don’t mind the cleanup. Helps me wind down after a hectic night.”
It took Mark forever to calm down after the frantic demands of food cooked perfectly for each order. His mind wouldn’t shut down until he was exhausted. If he wasn’t replaying any imagined mistakes of the night, he’d be ruminating on how he could tweak the menu. Today, a few thoughts intruded concerning Julie’s odd behavior, but he figured her mood would be the usual one tomorrow. Whether it was or not, she’d be sure to work hard, as always.
As he neared the door, he jolted in surprise when Julie walked past the window, holding a large grocery bag. Maybe he should offer to help her, but she rarely accepted help or asked for it. His curiosity rising, he exited and watched her turn up the alley next to the bakery. He followed.
Near the end of the alley, he stopped. A group of people stood clustered around the side of the loading dock. Julie hugged various people, her face wreathed in animated smiles as she made conversation. She looked like a different person. While he studied this altered Julie, she reached into a bag and handed out cartons and baggies to people.
He recognized the small containers as the ones they used at work for soup or sauces to go. A sick sensation grew in his middle. Had she taken stuff from the restaurant? She continued to hand out food, and some of the others around her rooted through bags of trash.
Once she folded her empty bag, she knelt down next to some trash, pulled out a clear plastic bag of bagels, then walked next to a scrawny older man and looped her arm around him, handing him the bag and laughing at something he said. What was going on here? Was Julie a dumpster diver, or pilfering from the restaurant, or both?
His gut clenched while he continued to study her. She sorted through various bags, holding up items and calling things out, laughing, talking, and moving with an ease she didn’t display at work. He knew she liked the restaurant job, as she often said so. But she was happy here, he could see that. Happy? Picking through trash? Some of these people had seen better days, that was obvious.
Maybe he’d become snobby after all his years in restaurants, serving people dressed for a night out, wearing his starched chef jacket and fussing over the appearance of each plate he sent out. His upbringing was blue collar with no frills, after all. But who wouldn’t be put off at the sight of people poking in trash? He’d always thought of that as a third-world necessity, not something anyone he knew would engage in.
He turned to leave before she noticed him lurking and staring. He took a few deep breaths as he hurried down the alley and sprinted across the street to his car. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while the defroster cleared the slight fog off the window.
He wished he hadn’t followed her. Now he had a problem. He knew she took home bones, vegetables and leftovers every night. But they were for dogs or something, weren’t they? She must also be taking containers home, though he’d never witnessed that. She wasn’t selling the leftovers, was she? If Barlow found out she was swiping containers and maybe selling restaurant food, too, she’d be fired. Fast.
Surprising how much the thought bothered him. Guess he liked her more than he realized, though she wasn’t very friendly to him. She disdained him. But he didn’t want her to lose her job. Not the quiet, hardworking Julie he knew at work, or this happy, bubbly dumpster Julie. Not even the possibly pilfering-from-the-restaurant Julie.
He spotted her silhouette in the alley. At work she always wore the long apron, but now in her jeans and short coat, he admired her fluid way of walking that accentuated her hips. He trained his eyes back on the road and sped off. Which Julie was she? Maybe he didn’t want to find out. And how on earth would he ever discover the truth? She was as closed as a clamshell.
* * *
Mark noticed Julie’s changed demeanor as soon as she arrived for work the next day. Her usual subdued welcome came instead as a genuine smile and cheery greeting for both him and Chris. As if she hadn’t seen them for a while. Hmm. Interesting. While they ate their quick pre-dinner-prep meal, she asked each of them questions about what they were doing lately and studied them with interest when they answered.
Chris raised a curious eyebrow at him when she left the table. Mark shrugged in answer. Maybe she’d seen him watching her from the alley, or spotted him in his car before he drove away. Why else would she be so different today? But that kind of fakery or sneakiness didn’t fit with the woman he knew, though he realized now he probably didn�
�t know her well at all.
More information, that’s what he needed. He’d loiter around after the nightly cleanup, dawdling so he’d leave when Julie did. On a normal night, he finished all his jobs with speed and was one of the first to shoot through the door. Not tonight. He needed to find out if Julie took anything other than the usual bones, vegetables with blemishes, and leftovers they planned to throw out. He hoped not.
His plan might be faulty. She wouldn’t be likely to steal anything with him right there, so he should leave, wait in his car, and dart in right when she approached the door. He’d say he forgot something. He put his charger into a small bag and stashed it at his station.
Later, after Chris and Stacy headed out, Tara was finishing up, Julie headed for the cooler. Mark waved to all of them, walked to the car, climbed in and waited. Tara sauntered out and gave him a quick wave before she headed down the block.
His heart beat faster than usual as he wondered what he’d do if he found any evidence of wrongdoing. He’d be forced to say something. But how would he start the conversation? He couldn’t just ask her if she was stealing and why. She was already so prickly with him, though she’d been much softer today.
She approached, lugging two bags. He raced to the door to get there before she did. He burst through and almost ran into her, stopping short of a collision.
“Whoops, sorry. I forgot something.” He scanned the bags but couldn’t determine the contents.
Julie laughed, and stepped aside to let him pass “No harm done.”
“Hold on, and I’ll help you with those.”
She opened her mouth and he held a hand up. “No, no, I insist. They look heavy.”
“I’m fine, really,” she called to his retreating figure.
“Just wait. I’ll be right there.” He breezed to his station and picked up the small bag with his charger in it, and hustled toward her, cramming it into his pocket. “I know you live down the next block somewhere. Let me carry the bags for you.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do, but thanks for the offer.”
He gave her his best grin. “I have nothing better to do. I’d like to help.”
Julie blinked at him as though confused, hesitated, then let out a breath and handed him the bags. “Okay.”
As soon as they began walking, her phone sounded. While she reached for it and peered at the screen, he adjusted the bags so he could give their contents a quick once-over while making it look like he was settling them more comfortably.
A large tangled bunch of trimmed bones filled one of them. All he could make out in the other was onion tops and what appeared to be celery and some root vegetables. Maybe a small squash accounted for the round bulge on the side. If she had containers or anything else in there, it didn’t seem likely. He couldn’t help overhearing her conversation.
She smiled at him and seemed not to mind. “Okay. I’ll be at the dock in less than an hour. Yes, I know the speech if any newbies show up. Don’t worry. I’ll stay and make sure in case you guys don’t get there. Okay. Bye, Jade.”
He returned her smile, covering his puzzlement and the storm of questions that circled in his brain. They made speeches at the dumpsters? Were they some kind of political organization? What did politics have to do with garbage picking? Did she go there every night? He wished he could ask.
“Well, here we are.” She halted in front of a red-brick house with a big porch and numerous lit-up windows.
“Hey, my friends Andy and Ed used to live here years ago. I lost track of them along the way. Wonder where they are now.”
“Were they cooks, too?”
He chuckled. “We were pizza delivery guys together. Then I started in the kitchen making pizza, and didn’t see them much after I got a different job at a restaurant.”
She tilted her head and made a small grimace. “It’s too bad how people lose contact, but I guess that’s how it goes.”
He nodded and handed her the bags. It seemed too familiar to offer to carry them inside. “Well, see you at work.”
Her hands brushed his as she took the bags. She gave him a rather shy grin. “Thanks, Mark.”
“No problem.”
He stood a moment longer. She must have removed the hairnet after work. Little strands of her soft brown hair waved in the slight breeze. He ached to ask her about her strange activities, but gave her a quick nod instead, and walked away. He’d never noticed before how pretty her eyes were.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julie smiled, watching Mark saunter down the street. What a difference in only one day. The animosity and distance between Mark and her had almost disappeared. She should’ve been more open to him and Chris all this time. They could’ve been close friends, and she’d have been a better witness of God’s love.
She climbed the flight of stairs to her apartment. While she did her usual work, singing with the occasional stop to praise, she found her thoughts wandering to Mark. How sweet of him to carry the bags for her. She’d never pictured him as chivalrous. And the moment before he left, his expression was so open and friendly. What a pleasant surprise.
Later at the bakery loading dock, she scanned the people, searching for newcomers. No need to make any speeches tonight. They were all familiar faces. Everyone knew the drill, and their practiced motions and easy conversation filled the lot with sound and activity.
Delighted sounds followed her announcement of an entire large bag of misshaped but very fresh éclairs. She chuckled. “Must be a new baker in training.”
“Hope he’s a slow learner,” Wally said with a grin, putting some in his bag. “Won’t Monica be happy to see these?”
A shout of, “Hey, Rick. I found you,” rang out in the night air.
Julie straightened up. She’d never met this man before. Not much more than a teenager, he was rangy and moved with fast, uneven strides toward Rick, a young college student who gleaned regularly. Rick always took a large amount to share with his fellow scholarship students. She didn’t realize how financially strapped some of them were until Rick told her that most of them lived on the bagels, bread, and produce along with the soup she made. She’d almost cried in front of him.
The newcomer came to a halt next to Rick, and eyed the gleaners. “So this is the freegans, eh?”
Rick nodded. “You came on a good night, Clyde. Check this out.” Rick handed him an éclair, which he downed in a series of large bites, reached for another, and almost inhaled that one as well.
“Wow. What else is there?” Clyde squatted and ripped open a bag, and a stream of bagels rolled out onto the pavement.
Julie stepped over to him. “We don’t rip the bags like that. I guess since you’re new, I’ll tell you how we do things.”
Clyde gazed up at her and rose. “What do I care how you do things? It’s a freaking garbage bag, and you don’t want me to rip it?”
Rick laid a hand on Clyde’s arm, but Clyde shrugged it off in a quick, hard motion. Rick held a hand up. “Clyde, you’re drunk, man. Just settle down a minute and let her tell you the rules.”
Clyde gave out a raucous laugh. “Rules? Rules for garbage? Give me a break.”
Julie’s mind whirred. How was she supposed to handle this? Maybe the best thing would be to leave him alone and let him do what he wanted. Some people turned mean when they drank, and Clyde appeared to be one of them. But she gave her word to Jade that she’d watch over everything. No, she needed to say something. And everyone was watching her now.
“Excuse me, Clyde. I’m not trying to upset you, but yes, we do have rules. If you’ll just let me—”
He waved a hand at her. “Oh, shut up.”
Wally dropped his bag and stood up. “Don’t talk to Julie that way. She’s only trying to help.”
Clyde swayed a bit while he eyed Wally. “I don’t need her help. And don’t give me orders.”
Rick glanced around. “C’mon, Clyde. I’ve got some good stuff here. Let’s go.”
>
Julie sent silent prayers up, hoping Clyde would relent and leave. This whole situation was going south fast.
“I came to get some food, and I’m not going until I look everything over.”
Wally stepped closer to Julie and faced Clyde. “I think you should go with Rick.”
Clyde’s voice rose into a falsetto tone. “Oh, you think I should go with Rick, old man?” He laughed and lowered his voice back down. “What do I care what you think?”
A short charged silence passed while Wally stood like a statue. Then his chest relaxed a bit. “You’re absolutely right. I am an old man, and you don’t have to listen to what I think.”
Clyde stared at Wally with a vacant expression. A few seconds ticked by. Clyde burped and muttered, “I shouldn’t have eaten those so fast.”
He dashed off toward the alley, Rick behind him, clutching his bag. Clyde retched into the weeds and fallen leaves at the edge of the alley. Rick braced an arm around him and the two shuffled away.
Julie’s shoulders fell as she took in some air. “Thank God for you, Wally. You handled that beautifully.” She hugged him, gratitude flooding her heart, then moved back to rest a hand on his shoulder. “It could have been awful if he’d tried to start a fight or something. That’s all we’d need, just one bad incident and the town would probably pass a law against gleaning.”
“You think they’d do that? And let all the food be wasted?”
Julie knew there’d been a few complaints already from people passing by when the freegans went through the bags outside stores and restaurants. Why anyone would object seemed so strange to her. If they didn’t care that the food was thrown away, why did they mind if someone used it? Sometimes people’s attitudes astounded her.
She nodded. “I know they would. That’s why Jade and Zach are so careful, and make sure we don’t do anything to cause a problem.” She patted his arm and cracked a broad smile. “Wait until I tell them how you saved the day. For a minute, I was afraid you’d fight him if he didn’t back down.”
A Work in Progress Page 5