Season of Joy

by Virginia Carmichael

  “So, you think she doesn’t realize that wearing a hundred-dollar shirt is a bit offensive in a homeless shelter?” Grant couldn’t hide the skepticism in his voice.

  Jose uncrossed his arms and gave him a steady look. “I’m not sure what’s going through her head. Maybe she doesn’t think anyone will recognize the brand. Maybe she’s so rich that these are her casual clothes. But I know she’ll figure it out and she’ll care when she does. And I’m telling you, she’s your type.”

  Grant threw up his hands at the last words and started to laugh. “Okay, I give up. No more talk about dating because I’m probably going to end up a bachelor forever at the rate I’m going. What’s so wrong with being single, anyway?”

  “Nothing, if you want to be, if you’re supposed to be. There’s room for everybody, right? But see, Cassandra showed me how happy I can be. I just don’t want you to miss out on something good.”

  There was no way to argue with that. Jose had never been so happy, or so determined to stay sober, as he was now. Cassandra was a small woman with a huge laugh. She’d grown up in the roughest part of L.A. and was part of the day-care staff. Their wedding a few months ago was one of the highlights of the year, in Grant’s mind. Two incredibly happy people, making a lifetime commitment before God, inspired them all to be a little gentler to each other.

  “Cassandra is a direct message from God to you.”

  Jose grinned and nodded. “You got it. Anyway, where’s the new recruit?”

  “I think Lana’s showing her what to do.”

  “Why not you? There’s nothing on the schedule this morning, and Lana’s busy enough as it is. She asked me to do it but I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.”

  Grant shoved his hands in his slacks’ pockets and stared at the floor. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he was afraid if he spent too much time with Calista then his life was going to get a whole lot more complicated. And he liked it simple. Or as simple as it could get at this point.

  “Take a chance, boss. You never know what good things are planned for you today.” Jose’s voice was teasing but Grant got his meaning loud and clear.

  “All right, but I’m not saying anything to her about her clothes.” Grant stood up with a frown and brushed past Jose, who was struggling to suppress a very broad smile.

  He pushed open the dining-room door, feeling a wave of warm air against his face. The smell of casseroles mixed with overcooked vegetables was as familiar as his mother’s perfume. Calista probably thought sitting in this place was the worst possible way to spend a Wednesday but it felt like home to him.

  He turned toward the table where Calista sat and halted midstep. Her back was to him but she might not have seen him even if she was facing him. Her bright blond head was bent toward a familiar dark one. Marisol had one hand on Calista’s arm and the two women looked like they had known each other forever.

  * * *

  “Oh, yes. Mr. Monohan save my life. Is a very long story.” The woman waved a hand like she was swatting flies.

  “I know you’re busy, but I’d like to hear it.” Calista glanced back at the groups wiping tables and clearing dishes.

  “Well, I tell you a little.” She paused, staring at her hands that were clasped together, dark fingers intertwined. “I came to Denver for my son. He come over to work. His papa died many years ago, it was just us. He sent me an address and money but when I get here, he was gone.” Her eyes settled on the wall behind Calista, as if she was seeing something very far away. “I was so scared. I run out of money, not knowing where I can go, what I can do to get home. Then I see the mission sign.”

  It sounded like Calista’s worst nightmare, being stranded, penniless. A horrible dilemma. To stay and search for her son while trying to keep off the streets, or go home and always wonder what happened. She shivered, rubbing her arms through the expensive cotton shirt. Calista tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “So what did you do?”

  “I spend my day looking, hoping. But I need a job and Mr. Monohan asks me if I can cook.” She grinned, bright teeth shining again in her dark face. “And that is the end of the story.”

  Except for Marisol’s son. Calista was afraid to ask, but couldn’t help herself. “Did you—did you ever find out...?”

  Tears welled in her brown eyes but her voice was strong. “I think my Gabriel is gone from this life and he is with Nuestro Señor, Jesus. He would have found me by now.”

  Calista nodded, blinking back her own tears. What would it be like to be loved so deeply? To have someone sleep on the street, to live in a shelter, to refuse to leave a foreign land, just to find you again? “That’s a mother’s love,” she said, almost to herself.

  Marisol regarded her for a moment. “Sí. Your mother is close to you?”

  “My mother died when I was young.”

  “Ah, mija.” The older woman sighed out the words and reached over to pat Calista’s arm. “There is nothing sadder than a girl without a mother. Nothing.”

  She didn’t know if that was true, even as her heart was aching in her chest. “Even sadder than a mother without a son?”

  To her surprise, Marisol nodded. “Sí. I miss my son, it’s true. I am sad that he did not have a wife or niños. I will never be called abuela.” She wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron. “But I have everything I learned from my mother. Her cooking and her stories, how to rock a baby and how to feed a man.”

  Calista squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, feeling the loss of her mother acutely. “But Mr. Monohan has no mother and he looks like he’s doing perfectly fine.” She didn’t know why she wanted to argue about it.

  “Oh, Dios,” the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together in grief. “Poor man, he is an orphan. Worse than an orphan! But he is strong, he works hard and his faith will keep him on the right path. He is busy making the world better.”

  And that was the difference between them.

  Grant had put all of his heart into helping others and he was surrounded by people who respected him, loved him. I’m sure when he walks into the mission Christmas party, the room doesn’t fall completely silent. No, he was swarmed by kids, beloved by bossy old ladies, protected by friends. Calista felt self-pity well up in her and wondered if it was too late for her to get a real life, one like Grant’s.

  “Don’t look so sad, mija.” There was that word again, whatever it meant. And the comforting pat on the arm. “There is room in his life for a woman. He works a lot, but I know he is lonely, too. I think if you show him what you feel, there is a chance for you and Mr. Monohan.”

  Calista shook her head, trying not to laugh as she tried to make sense of such an odd comment. Then there was the ominous sound of someone clearing his throat a little too loudly. She turned her head, knowing before she saw his face that Grant Monohan had heard the last few sentences and was coming to a very awkward conclusion.

  Chapter Five

  Grant cleared his throat and waited to be noticed. His mind was reeling from the words that had just come from Marisol’s mouth. He was busy but was he lonely? And the new volunteer had feelings for him?

  Calista turned toward him, her face the color of fresh beets.

  His thoughts stuttered as he tried to make sense of what he’d heard. Did she care for him? But they hardly knew each other. He took a deep breath and gave them both a steady gaze. Whatever was going on, he needed to be as professional as possible.

  “Mari, thanks for keeping Calista company.”

  “My pleasure, but you should be ashamed of yourself. You leave this beautiful girl to talk to the crazy woman? No wonder you still not married.” This all came out in a rapid-fire, heavily accented stream. The words were a little unkind, but Marisol softened the blow by standing up and placing a loud kiss on Grant’s cheek. “And you need a haircut. Is getting too long.
Soon, no one will know whether you are a resident or the director. You come over next week and I trim it for you.”

  Grant felt heat creep up his neck but he nodded. He’d never get used to being treated like a kid, because he’d always taken care of himself. If his hair started to curl over his collar, then he was the only one who ever noticed, until he met Marisol. There was no halfway with her. Once he’d been adopted by the fierce little woman, she got full rights to his grooming, love life and nutrition, in no particular order.

  “I got to go make sure they don’t break all my dishes.” Marisol swept up the tray from the table and turned to Calista. “You come back next weekend and I’ll give you some tamales to take home. It’s a tradition. Tamales at Christmas.” With that last bit of bossiness, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

  There was a moment’s pause while Grant wondered what to say and how to say it.

  Calista stood up, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair, and brushed back a wavy curl from her face. Grant wondered what she looked like when she laughed, then felt irritation at wondering.

  “I need to go find out what Lana needs me to do,” she said, her smile a perfect balance of friendliness and distance.

  He knew she was being helpful, being flexible about all the upheaval around the mission, but somehow he felt disappointed. Part of him wished she would seek him out, make an effort to be around him. He realized that even though they’d only known each other a few days, he felt absurdly relaxed around her. Except for when he stood a little too close or looked too deeply into her eyes, and then he felt the very opposite. “I let Lana know I was coming in here. I’d like to show you the rest of the complex, if that’s all right.”

  Her eyes crinkled with pleasure. “Lead the way.” Her whole figure seemed to exude high energy.

  As they walked through the almost-empty cafeteria toward the double doors at the far end, he glanced at her. “Are you a runner?”

  She almost stopped in surprise. “How did you know that?”

  “Because of the way you move.” The words were out of his mouth before he really thought through them. He hurried to elaborate. “Runners have a confident stride. My friend Eric ran in a marathon last month and he walks like you do.”

  “I’m no marathoner,” she said, laughing. “Those people are nuts. I’ve done a 10K and a half marathon, but the real deal is way beyond me. I started running when I was in college to relieve stress.”

  “I hear you. I swim every morning at the Y. When I don’t get in my laps in the pool, I feel out of sorts.”

  She turned to him as he opened the door and motioned for her to pass through. “Earth and water. Those two elements don’t mix, do they?”

  For a moment, their eyes locked and he felt his brain shift from small talk to something deeper. Her smile faltered as she waited for him to say something, anything. His gaze slipped down to her lips. He struggled to find the thread of the conversation. “Um, I think that’s fire and water.”

  “Right. I don’t know why I said that.”

  Again, that long, loping stride. He grinned, thinking of how many times he’d had to slow down because his long legs left friends behind. Their strides were well matched, in tune.

  “We’ll start with the recreation areas so you can get an idea of the different buildings.” He pushed the long handle of an exit door and they came out into the mid-November sunshine. The snow-filled courtyard was empty except for two men talking at the far end. Buildings rose on every side, warm-colored bricks offset against the cool blue of the sky. The snow sparkled in the bright sun and the air smelled like it had blown straight down from Mt. Evans.

  “We have five separate but connected buildings. The largest is the residence hall, which can house up to two hundred men, and has one hundred cots for emergency overflow. The women and children are housed here—” he pointed across the grass “—and we have family housing on Ninth Street, in an apartment block. The lobby, offices and cafeteria are behind us, of course, in the main entrance areas. In the cafeteria they serve almost three hundred people, three meals every day.

  “To your right we have the old classrooms, which we use for addiction counseling and parenting classes and anger-management classes. Then over here we have the recreation areas and the day-care rooms. We have a small library that’s stocked with children’s books, thanks to a community reading program.”

  “A library? Now that’s a good thing. I think books were my best friends when I was little. Maybe they still are.” She glanced around, sizing up the buildings. “Which one has the roof that needs replacing?”

  He glanced at her in surprise. He opened his mouth to ask, but she was already talking, eyes fixed on the building ahead.

  “Lana mentioned it. She also says the mission is running on fumes, financially.” She sidled a look at him. “Running a business isn’t easy, to say the least.”

  Grant didn’t know whether to be irritated or relieved. Part of him wanted to impress her with how well the mission was doing, but it was true they were in serious trouble.

  “What’s the fundraising like here? Do you have a special board? Is there a general fund or are there building funds and program funds? Is the money accessible or is it in trust?” Calista was frowning slightly, a hand over her eyes as she surveyed the building, one hand tucked in her jacket pocket.

  “The board handles most of the financial decisions. The money is in a general fund unless a donor asks for it to be earmarked for a certain area, like the children’s playground. We have a charity drive twice a year, once in December and once in July.” He had to admire her questions; they were thorough and intelligent.

  “Have you ever had a fundraising for a specific cause?”

  Grant shook his head. “You mean, like when they have the big thermometer with the red line pointing out how much more needs to be donated?”

  Calista’s broad grin flashed in the sunlight. “Exactly. And everybody fights to be the one to move the arrow every time the money gets recounted.”

  The thought of Lana and Jose wrestling over the red arrow made him chuckle. She glanced back at the building, her smile turning serious. Grant dropped his gaze, wishing that he could say something to make her laugh again. The two men who had been talking near the far end of the courtyard disappeared through the doors to the recreation building.

  “Grant, it really shouldn’t be hard to raise that kind of cash.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her how hard they worked for the donations, then thought better of it. He had a business degree, but most of his concerns were wrapped up in the health and safety of his residents. “You have any ideas?”

  She nodded, still surveying the area. “Absolutely. You need to involve some bigger sponsors than the neighborhood grocer or carpet-cleaning service.” She turned, green eyes serious. “You know what I mean? Big sponsors. Like Denver Bank or the big chain stores or even my company, VitaWow.”

  “That’s not going to be a conflict of interest?”

  Grant wanted to smooth the tiny wrinkle that appeared between her brows.

  “Why would it be? We partner with charities, especially during the holidays. If I make up a list, you’ll need to start reaching out to them right away. Like, tomorrow. Before all their holiday charity funds are snapped up by the bigger places.”

  “I suppose I can manage that,” he said. He laughed and realized with a shock that he didn’t mind some wealthy volunteer giving him orders. How did she do that? How did she boss him around and tell him what to do, and make it feel good? The only other person who could tell him what to do was Marisol.

  Which brought back the words he’d heard when he’d entered the cafeteria. He works a lot, but I know he is lonely, too. I think if you show him what you feel, there is a chance for you and Mr. Monohan.

  He cleared his thro
at and thrust his hands in his pockets, shifting his feet in the snow. He really didn’t want to bring it up, but living with an alcoholic had made him allergic to secrets and lies. He didn’t have time to wonder what she was thinking, or what Marisol was trying to tell her.

  “Calista, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  He watched a look of wariness settle in her eyes. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, as if she was waiting for him to say something awful. For the first time, he wondered what, exactly, she was hiding. How anyone could top the burden of shame he carried around, day and night, he couldn’t imagine. But something about the fear and courage that battled in her eyes told him Calista Sheffield just might have bigger secrets than he did.

  Chapter Six

  Calista’s heart pounded in her chest. The look on his face was so grave, it sent her warning sirens blaring. Had he heard something about the horrible CEO of VitaWow, the one who made the secretaries cry? That was all in the past. She was a kinder, gentler person. The kind who would let everyone decorate their cubicles and chew gum and cook nasty frozen entrees in the microwaves. Of course, she’d have to put all the microwaves back in the break rooms, but that was a small step.

  “What exactly did Marisol tell you today? When I came back from the lobby, I heard something and I—”

  Relieved laughter bubbled up and she cut him off midsentence. “Oh, Grant! That woman is priceless! Promise me you never, ever let her leave.” She clutched her middle and struggled to catch her breath. “She’s just the greatest. And the way she was fussing over your hair.” Another wave of laughter rocked her. She was so thankful his question was about Marisol’s silly advice that she wanted to turn a cartwheel.

  He was grinning right along with her, although his blue eyes remained shadowed with curiosity. “She’s a keeper. And I suppose I shouldn’t have wondered, but what I heard was so strange...” He shrugged sheepishly.