Shelter in a Soldier's Arms

by Susan Mallery

  “You’re acting as if it’s all decided,” she said.

  “Isn’t it?” He jerked his head toward the cot where two members of the volunteer staff were already collecting her things. “You need time and a place to recover. I can provide both.”

  “I want to trust you. As you’ve already learned, I’m running out of options. But I still have questions. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

  For the first time since he arrived, he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He looked over her head, but she doubted he was seeing the bustling activities in the temporary shelter. He’d gone somewhere else, and based on what she knew about it, it wasn’t a place she wanted to know about.

  Finally he shrugged. “I’m under my good-deed quota for this lifetime.”

  It wasn’t an answer. It wasn’t even a good fake answer. She had the sudden thought that maybe he didn’t know why he was doing it, either. Which was scary, but not as scary as having nowhere to go. It all came down to whether or not she trusted him. Ashley looked into his face, the strong bone structure, the empty eyes. He had a scar by his mouth and the few gray hairs at his temples. Both her gut and her daughter said he was safe. Was that enough?

  “I’m a member of the Better Business Bureau. Does that help?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. The smile transformed him, making him handsome and approachable. It also made her heart beat just a little faster and her breathing increase.

  The flu, she told herself. A physical manifestation of her virus. Nothing more.

  “Thank you,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and swaying slightly before she gained her balance. “I’m very grateful for your assistance.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  There was a plus to all this, she thought. If Jeff turned out to be a nice guy in disguise, maybe she could convince him not to fire her from her cleaning job. Then in a few short days, she could return to her regular life and pretend none of this had happened.

  The security-soldier business paid better than she’d realized, Ashley thought thirty minutes later when Jeff pulled into the driveway of a two-story glass-and-wood house more than halfway up Queen Anne Hill. The view through clouds and light rain was impressive, with Lake Union down below and the west side of the city visible across the water. She could only imagine how beautiful it would be when the weather was nice.

  “Is this yours?” Maggie asked excitedly from the back seat of the luxury car. “It’s so big and pretty. Do you have kittens? There’s lots of room for them. If you wanted to get one, I’d help you take very good care of it.”

  “Ever hopeful,” Ashley murmured. “Maggie is desperate for a kitten.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  On their way over from the shelter Maggie had talked about kittens and her school and how nice everyone at the shelter had been. It gave the adults a break from having to make conversation. Ashley, for one, was grateful.

  “Where’s your ’partment?” Maggie asked as they waited for the garage door to open. “Is it up high? Mommy and me live on the top floor and sometimes it’s fun to look out at the city or watch when the storms come. And in the summer when it’s hot, we open all the windows, ’cause no one can climb in when we’re up so high.”

  Jeff turned off the engine and shifted to face the little girl. “It’s a house, Maggie,” he told her. “I live here by myself. While you and your mom stay here, I want you to be very comfortable.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “It’s just you here? Don’tcha get scared being all alone?”

  Ashley winced. Until this moment she’d never realized that her daughter hadn’t ever lived in a house before. They’d always been in apartments.

  “Sometimes it’s quiet,” Jeff admitted. “But I don’t mind that.”

  He was about to have a couple of days of nonquiet, Ashley thought. Maggie was a sweetheart and very well behaved, but she was a walking noise machine.

  He unfastened his seat belt. “Let’s get you two inside and settled. I’ll bring your bags in later.”

  Ashley nodded. She could feel the weariness settling over her again. Her consciousness through the drive here had taken the last of her reserves. All she wanted was to sleep for the next four or five weeks.

  Jeff climbed out of the car, then opened the rear door to assist Maggie from the vehicle. Ashley trailed after them as they went up the two stairs that led to the main house. Before he opened the door, Jeff punched a long code into a keypad. There was an audible snick as the locking mechanism released. She had a brief thought of armed guards waiting on the other side and chuckled at the image of them walking through metal detectors before entering the living quarters of the house.

  But whatever security measures existed were concealed because all she saw when she stepped inside was space.

  The rooms were huge and sparsely furnished. Jeff showed them the living room, dining room and a study. Only the latter contained any evidence that a person actually lived in the house. The living room had two sofas, a couple of club chairs, along with low tables and a few lamps. But there was nothing personal or decorative. No pictures or photographs on the walls, no magazines, plants or even a pair of shoes marred the solitude. The dining room was the same. A massive table surrounded by chairs. A matching hutch—the glassed-in top of which was empty.

  Cream carpet and pale walls added to the sense of space, as did the floor-to-ceiling windows in both the living room and dining room that offered a view of the lake and the shore beyond. The study was at the rear of the house, looking out on extensive gardens. At least here there were papers on the desk and a few books scattered on the leather sofa across from the fireplace.

  Ashley looked around without saying anything, then followed Jeff into his huge kitchen. She took in the oversized refrigerator, the six-burner stove and the impressive collection of copper pots hanging above the tiled island.

  “You must entertain a lot,” she murmured, not able to imagine such a thing. With someone else maybe, but not Jeff Ritter. He didn’t appear to be the entertaining type.

  “No. It all came with the house.” He motioned to the refrigerator. “I eat out, or at the office. There isn’t much in the way of food. When I get you settled, I’ll take Maggie and go to the grocery store.”

  She wanted to protest. Surely there was enough for them to get by until she was feeling better. She didn’t want to impose. Impulsively she opened the refrigerator, about to make that point. However, the point went unmade.

  The interior of the gleaming metal refrigerator was empty. Not just echoing with the stereotypical bachelor fare of beer and condiments. It was as empty as a showroom model. Ashley swallowed, then moved to the pantry. Those shelves were neatly papered and just as bare.

  Jeff cleared his throat. “Like I said, I don’t eat here much.”

  “Ever,” she corrected. “How can you not have coffee?”

  Instead of answering, he indicated that they should follow him toward the staircase at the rear of the house. On the landing it split in two directions. He took the stairs on the right.

  “This is the guest wing,” he said. “The two bedrooms share a bathroom.”

  He opened doors, leading the way to well-furnished bedrooms, one larger than the other. The bathroom setup gave them each a vanity and mirror, while they shared the toilet and bath. Maggie hurried to the window seat in the smaller room and knelt on the yellow cushion.

  “I like this,” she said, holding her stuffed cat close to her chest and smiling. “I can see the water.”

  “Good.”

  Ashley hoped her voice sounded pleased. She was having trouble forming the words as her strength faded. She made her way back into the larger of the two rooms. As it had been downstairs, the furniture was exactly right but there were no homey touches. The walls were blank, as were the surfaces of the dresser and nightstands, except for a clock radio silently illuminating the time.

  Ashley found she didn’t care about decorating or empty refrigerato
rs. Exhaustion descended with no warning, sucking up the last of her strength, leaving her shaking and breathless.

  Jeff seemed to figure out her problem. Without saying anything, he drew back the covers on the bed and urged her to sit on the clean sheet.

  “You need sleep,” he said, reaching for her shoes and tugging them off. “I’ll take care of Maggie. Just rest.”

  She started to protest. She had to give her daughter instructions to be good, to listen to Jeff and to come running to her if she was afraid. Even as she stretched out on the bed she thought it might be a good idea to stay awake for a while to make sure everything was all right here in the beautiful house on the hill. She ought to—

  Jeff watched Ashley fight against exhaustion. Slowly her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

  “We’ll be going out for food,” he murmured as she drifted off to sleep. “We’ll be back soon.”

  She didn’t respond. Maggie bounced into the room, her mouth open to speak. She stopped when she saw her mother asleep, pressing her lips together and then looking at him.

  He walked to the door and motioned for her to follow. When they were out in the hall, he stared down at her, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Food, he thought. They had to get food. He hesitated, not sure if he’d ever gone grocery shopping before. As he’d told Ashley, he ate all his meals at restaurants, or at work. It’s not that he didn’t know how to keep food in the house, he simply didn’t bother. Despite the furniture in the rooms and his clothes in his bedroom closet, this wasn’t his home. It was a place to sleep and work after hours. Nothing more.

  “We’re going shopping,” he announced. “The grocery store.”

  Maggie hesitated before nodding her agreement. She looked so small standing there in her pink jeans and pink-and-white plaid knit sweater. Two tiny clips held her dark curls off her face. Her Cupid’s bow mouth quivered slightly.

  Not knowing what else to do, Jeff crouched in front of the child. “You know your mom is sick, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her grip on the battered stuffed cat tightened.

  “She has the flu. Do you know what that is?”

  “It’s what I had last week. I was very sick and I got to watch TV in Mommy’s bed and eat Jell-O whenever I wanted.”

  Was that kid paradise? He didn’t know. “But you’re better now, right?”

  Another nod.

  “So you know your mom is going to be fine in a few days. I don’t want you to worry about her.”

  Maggie gave him an impish smile. “I know you’ll take care of her.”

  He hadn’t thought about his responsibility in quite those terms, but if it made the kid happy to think that, he wouldn’t disagree. “Are you nervous about being with me?”

  Delicate, dark eyebrows drew together. “What’s nerv-nerv-What’s that?”

  “Nervous. Upset. Afraid. Anxious.” His explanation didn’t seem to be helping. He searched his memory for a word a four-year-old could understand. “Scared.”

  This time, instead of smiling, she laughed. “I’m not scared. You like us.”

  She spoke with a conviction he both envied and admired. If only all of life were that simple, he thought as he rose to his full height.

  “Then let’s go to the food store.”

  Maggie trailed after him as they made their way to the car. Jeff hesitated, then decided not to set the alarm in the house. He figured the odds of Ashley opening a door or window were greater than someone breaking in during the short time he would be gone.

  He held the back door open for the little girl, then helped her fasten her seat belt. She gazed at him trustingly as he secured her in the car. She sniffed loudly.

  “Your car smells nice.”

  “It’s the leather. I’ve only had the car a few months.”

  Her eyes widened. “It’s new? You have a new car?”

  Her tone of reverence made him wonder if Ashley had ever had a new car. Based on her current circumstances, he doubted it. At least not in the recent past. There were so many things in his life that he took for granted.

  “I have to call someone I know,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “I need to ask her what to buy to make your mom feel better.”

  “Jell-O,” Maggie said firmly.

  “Okay, but she’ll need other stuff, too.” He was thinking in terms of liquids. Or was that for a cold? His first-aid training ran more in the direction of gunshot wounds or emergency amputations.

  He backed out of the driveway, then touched a button. A mechanical voice asked, “What name?”

  “Brenda,” he replied.

  Maggie stared at him. “The car is talking!”

  He felt himself smile as the sound of a phone ringing came over the built-in speakers. It was nearly five-thirty. Brenda might have gone home.

  But his assistant was still at the office. When she answered, he explained that he was taking care of a friend with the flu and needed her advice on what to buy at the grocery store. Also, what would be appropriate to serve a four-year-old for dinner.

  With that he glanced at the girl. “Say hi, Maggie.”

  Still wide-eyed and clutching her stuffed, white cat, Maggie licked her lips. “Hi,” she whispered tentatively.

  “That was Maggie,” he said helpfully.

  “Uh, hi, Maggie. Nice to talk to you.” His assistant’s tone of voice warned him that he would be getting a major third degree when he saw her in the morning.

  “Do you even know where the grocery store is?” Brenda asked when she’d recovered from her shock.

  “I have a fair idea. I was thinking of soup and juice. Liquids for the flu, right?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s right. As for dinner for the little one, there are lots of options. Rule number one is the less sugar the better. Are you cooking or heating?”

  Ten minutes later he had a list along with instructions. Brenda cleared her throat. “Are they going to be staying with you for a few days?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “If the mother isn’t feeling well, then she won’t be up to watching her child. Maggie, do you have a preschool you go to?”

  The little girl beamed at being included in the conversation. “Uh-huh. Right by Mommy’s school. I stay there until two.”

  “Ashley is a student at the University of Washington,” he clarified.

  “Which means she’ll be missing class while she’s sick.”

  He heard Brenda writing on a pad of paper. “Can we send someone to sit in for her?” he asked.

  “Sure, but I need her schedule of classes first. Some lecture notes are available online. Also, Maggie will need a sitter for the afternoon. I can arrange that. What’s your student friend’s name?”

  “Ashley Churchill. She works for us.”

  There was a moment of silence. Jeff could practically see Brenda’s surprise. She knew everyone who worked for Ritter/Rankin Security.

  “The cleaner?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you meet her?” She coughed. “Sorry. It’s not any of my business, of course. I’ll get on all of this and call you later tonight.”

  “Thanks, Brenda. I appreciate the effort.”

  His assistant laughed. “No problem. You know I’m desperate to break into the spy business. There has to be a market for fifty-something operatives. Finding this information will be good practice.”

  “I’d be lost without you in the office. I can’t afford to let you go into the field.”

  “So you keep saying. But I think you’re just being kind and trying to not hurt my feelings. Oh, well. I’ll call you later, Jeff. Bye, Maggie.”

  “Bye,” Maggie piped back.

  Jeff disconnected the call, then wondered how Brenda could ever be foolish enough to think of him as kind.

  Chapter Three

  “They’re very good,” Maggie said earnestly.

  They stood in the cereal aisle of the large grocery store just down the hill from Jeff’s house. He’d n
ever been inside in all the time he’d lived in the neighborhood. He doubted Maggie had been here, either, yet she led the way like an expert, wielding her miniature shopping cart around other patrons, calling out names of favorite brands and making decisions with the ease of an executive. Now she held out a box of Pop-Tarts and gave him a winning smile.

  “I had them at Sara’s house. Her mom fixed them for us. She said only kids could eat something that purple.” Her smile broadened. “I said that the purple is the best part.”

  He looked doubtfully at the picture on the box. It showed a toaster pastry covered with vivid purple frosting. Just the thought made his stomach tighten. In this case, he’d have to side with Sara’s mom.

  “You really want those?” he asked, not sure how that was possible.

  Maggie nodded vigorously, making her dark curls dance around her head.

  “Does your mother buy these for you?”

  Big blue eyes suddenly turned away from him. She became intensely interested in the contents of her cart, rearranging the three frozen kid meals he’d bought her. Finally she returned her gaze to him and slowly shook her head.

  “No.”

  Outside of his abilities, he didn’t count on very much in the world, but he would have bet his life that Maggie Churchill was incapable of lying—whether because of her age, her character, her upbringing or a combination of the three. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone like her before.

  “Would you really eat them if we got them?”

  Questions filled her eyes. Questions and hope. She practically vibrated her assent.

  “All right.” He tossed the package into her tiny cart. “If you’re sure.”

  She gazed at him as if he’d just created a rainbow right there in the grocery store. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs and squeezing tight.

  “Thank you,” she said fervently. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  He hadn’t known she could be anything but.

  They continued their shopping, going up and down each aisle. Jeff found that buying bread for sandwiches also meant buying something to go in between the slices of bread. Maggie favored peanut butter and jelly. He thought her mother might appreciate something more along the lines of sliced turkey or beef. Which meant an intense discussion on mustard versus mayonnaise, and an interpretation of whether or not Maggie’s shudder at the thought of pickles meant her mother didn’t like them, either.