Entertaining Angels

by Judy Duarte

  “She volunteered, so I put her to work. I think it makes her feel better about eating here.”

  “I wish we had the money to actually hire her.” Craig peered through the open doorway and saw Renee talking to Jesse. “She took a couple of extra corn bread muffins home yesterday, so I have a feeling she’s not getting enough to eat.”

  “That’s too bad. I’ll give her ten dollars for helping me today. And I’ll have her take an extra lunch home with her.”

  “Good idea. And if she shows up tomorrow, I’ll chip in another ten.” Of course, Craig wouldn’t be able to keep that up for very long. Maybe he’d just have to help her find a real job, although he wasn’t sure what.

  “How old do you think she is?” Dawn asked.

  “It’s hard to say. My guess is about fifteen. Maybe even sixteen.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Dawn tucked a brown lock of hair behind her ear. “But she told me she’s twenty-one.”

  “It’s possible I guess. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

  “I know, but I’m still skeptical.”

  “Eighteen would make her an adult,” Craig said, “if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

  “You’re right. I guess there’s an old mother hen inside of me.”

  Their voices stilled when Renee came back to the kitchen.

  “Where’s Joe?” Craig asked Dawn. “I saw him in church this morning.”

  “He ran Mrs. Rogers home. She’s not able to drive anymore.”

  “How far away does she live?” Craig glanced at the clock on the side wall, thinking he should have been back by now, unless Mrs. Rogers lived in another city.

  Dawn laughed. “He usually drives through McDonald’s and buys her a milkshake as a treat, but I have a feeling he’s been getting one for himself, too. That man loves sweets.”

  “So you expect him soon?” Craig asked, hating to leave Dawn on her own.

  “Any minute now.”

  “Well then,” Craig said, “it looks as though you two have everything under control, so if you don’t mind, I’ll head back to the Delacourts’ house. Cassandra made Sunday dinner, and I hate to come dragging in late.”

  “I’ve been to a few dinner parties at Cassandra’s house,” Dawn said. “She’s our resident Martha Stewart, so you’d better get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Craig nodded, then left the kitchen. On his way out, he stopped by the table where Jesse sat and patted the homeless man on the back, his fingers grazing the frayed shoulder seam of the old jacket. “I hope to see you again tomorrow.”

  “I expect that you will.”

  Craig left the building and went to his car. As he stuck the key in the driver’s door, he glanced across the street to the playground. It was fairly empty today. A family of four ate under the shade of a large Mulberry in the center of the park. And two boys played Frisbee with a dog on the grass. But his gaze was drawn to a woman and a child swinging side by side.

  As he recognized the redhead, his hand movements froze, and he took a moment to watch Kristy Smith with her son.

  For some reason, he found himself withdrawing the key and slipping it back in his pocket. There were a hundred reasons for him to walk over to the park and say hello to her—all of them church related.

  First of all, she was the granddaughter of a parishioner. And secondly, as a pastor, it was his job to invite her to Sunday services and make sure that she felt comfortable attending.

  She was also going to be the maid of honor in Shana Delacourt’s wedding, unless something blew sky-high, which he sensed was a possibility, albeit slight. And just in case he was called upon to soothe ruffled feathers, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know her better.

  So he strode across the street, studying her as he approached the playground.

  She’d called herself a black sheep last Wednesday night. Yet, as he saw her swinging next to her little boy, carefree and laughing, her long red curls blowing in the light ocean breeze, she didn’t seem the least bit rebellious.

  On the other hand, the word “responsible” came to mind. He suspected that a lot of people might have found it easier to place a bitter disabled woman in a convalescent hospital, yet Kristy had kept her at home for the past seven years.

  As he crossed the lawn and toward the swings, he realized Kristy hadn’t been anything like he’d expected. Sure, she was tall and had red hair, just as the Delacourts had implied. But the oversized top and baggy jeans she wore made her look plain and not at all like the leggy, boy-crazy wild-child Cassandra had suggested she’d once been.

  When he reached the edge of the sand, he smiled and said, “It’s a nice day to play in the sun.”

  She looked up, and surprise splashed across her face. “Oh, hi.”

  “Do you come to the park very often?”

  “Not often enough.” She stopped pumping, and the swing began to slow. “Barbara, the woman you met the other night, is watching Gram while I run a few errands.”

  Craig thought it was nice that she’d scheduled time for her son. His mom used to do the same thing. “I suppose playing at the park is one of them?”

  “Actually, it is.” Kristy’s feet skimmed the sand, slowing her momentum even more. “But to be honest, this was supposed to be our last stop, not our first.”

  “So, you’re a bit of a free spirit and had a change of plans?” That was more in line with the image he’d had of her.

  “I’m afraid my free-spirit days have been over for a long time.” She offered him the ghost of a smile. “Actually, I was on the way to the grocery store and caught some teenagers harassing a homeless guy. So I chased them off and gave him a ride to the soup kitchen. So since we were across the street from the park, I decided to stop here first.”

  “That must have been Jesse,” Craig said.

  “It was. Do you know him, too?”

  “I met him my first day in town.” Craig slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks and felt the keys that rested there. He let them stay put. “Why were the kids giving him a hard time?”

  “They’d hoped to send him packing, although I suspect he wouldn’t need a suitcase.”

  “I was afraid something like that might happen. We’ve had some complaints in the community. They don’t like seeing the homeless in town and want us to move the kitchen far away from the park.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind?” The breeze whipped a red curl across her cheek, and she brushed it aside. “That’s really too bad.”

  Jason, who was swinging beside his mother, leaped from his seat and landed in the sand with both feet. He tottered a moment before falling on his rump, then jumped right up and ran to the slide.

  “He’s a cute kid,” Craig said.

  “Yes, he is. A truly unexpected blessing.” She turned and called out to her son. “Jason, we’re going to have to leave in a few minutes.”

  “Aw, Mom.” He scrunched his face. “Do we have to?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I’ve got a lot of errands to run, and we need to be home before two o’clock.”

  To relieve the nurse, Craig assumed. “How’s your grandmother doing?”

  “She’s all right. I’m sorry she gave you a hard time the other night. She’s been laid up for so long that it’s done a real number on her attitude. Believe it or not, she used to have a sweet, loving spirit.”

  “I’d heard she was active in the church, so that doesn’t surprise me.”

  Kristy slowed to a complete stop, then got to her feet. “Her sullen mood tends to rub off on the rest of us. But, apparently, you knew just what to say to her the other night. I didn’t hear any complaints after you left, and that’s not usually the case.”

  “Well, I was definitely at a loss at first, but then I took a different tack.”

  “Oh, really?” She stepped away from the swing and closer to him. “I’m always open to suggestions. What did you do that worked?”

  Craig wasn’t sure what Pastor George would thi
nk, or what any of his professors back at the seminary would say, but his honesty and candor had taken a bit of the edge off the elderly woman’s irritable tone. “I told her that there were times when life really sucked. And that she was right. Bad things sometimes happened to good people, and it really didn’t seem fair.”

  “You commiserated with her? And that worked?” Kristy’s brow furrowed as she pondered what he’d said to her grandmother. “Everyone else has tried quoting scripture and offering upbeat platitudes, which only seems to make things worse.”

  “I’m not saying that the approach I used was right. Or that it would meet with the approval of other ministers. But she didn’t throw anything at me.”

  “Well, that’s always a good sign.” Kristy grinned, and her eyes brightened several shades of green.

  She really ought to smile more often. She was a prettier woman than he’d realized, even without makeup. Or maybe it was because she hadn’t used any of the typical props. There was something wholesome about her, something appealing.

  “The next time she complains,” Kristy said, with a slight lilt to her tone, “I’ll have to remember to agree with her.”

  Craig had a feeling she was teasing, but he couldn’t be sure. “I’m afraid there was a bit more to it than that. I also admitted that I could relate, at least a little, to what she was going through.”

  “How’s that?”

  He really hadn’t meant to get into the whole baseball thing—and he wouldn’t really go there now—but he figured he owed Kristy an explanation. “I told her that I’d wanted to play professional ball in high school, and just when the opportunity of a lifetime came up, I was injured and had to put it off.” He didn’t mention anything about the decision he’d been forced to make after that.

  Why should he? It was no one’s business but his own. Besides, he didn’t want anyone in town suspecting that his heart really wasn’t in the ministry. What kind of pastor would that make him then?

  He glanced at his watch, realizing that he’d spent more time at the park than he should have. “I’d better get home. It would be rude to show up late for Sunday dinner.”

  “And foolish,” Kristy said. “Mrs. Delacourt’s a good cook. And she’s a good hostess, too.”

  Craig thought about the wedding, about the elaborate plans Cassandra had mentioned over breakfast this morning, but he bit his tongue. Neither of the Delacourts were thrilled with their daughter’s choice for a maid of honor, and something told him that news might not come as a surprise to Kristy.

  Either way, he wasn’t going to risk stirring things up. Nor did he plan to get sucked into the middle of that drama unless circumstances forced him to take a stand. So he took a step away from the playground. “I’ll see you on Wednesday evening—if you’re at home when I come to visit your grandmother.”

  “I’m not scheduled to work at all that day, so you probably will.”

  He meant to say, “Good,” but bit back his gut response. Instead, he said, “Have fun.”

  Then he walked across the grass, heading for the church parking lot.

  Surprisingly, he was actually looking forward to his visit with Lorraine on Wednesday night.

  And church business had nothing to do with it.

  Dawn stood next to Renee at the table that served as a buffet line, passing out boxed lunches to each person who showed up to eat.

  Sundays were usually light at the soup kitchen, and while Charlie Ames, one member of the advisory board, had suggested that they not serve any meals at all on the Sabbath, the others had agreed that people needed to eat on Sundays, too, and that a light lunch was doable without much effort.

  Dawn hadn’t minded the extra work; it kept her busy and her mind off the sadness that sometimes overcame her when Joe was on duty and she was left to wander though the big, empty house alone.

  So she appreciated Renee’s company today, as well as her help. It was nice to have someone to talk to during the lulls. Besides, Dawn had a heart for kids—and that’s exactly how she thought of Renee. There was no way that girl was twenty-one. But like Pastor Craig had said, eighteen was the magical age—no matter how old she looked.

  Still, Dawn risked another sidelong glance at the petite blonde and watched her stroke her stomach for about the tenth time. Neither the baggie clothes nor the tummy bulge was what one would expect to see on a teenage girl. Not when most of them were wearing snug-fitting tops that bared teeny tiny waistlines.

  Dawn had once had a shapely figure, but after fifteen years of marriage and several pregnancies, none of which went to term, she’d put on weight and was now what you’d call pleasingly plump, which sounded better than heavyset, matronly or just plain fat.

  So it wasn’t hard to distinguish a pregnant belly from one that had been rounded due to too many helpings of dessert.

  Ever since Dawn and Joe had tried to start a family, she’d been keenly aware of expectant mothers and could spot a maternal glow or a baby bump from across a crowded room—a glow and a bump she would have gladly given anything to have at one time.

  So pregnancy seemed completely plausible. And if that were the case, it didn’t seem fair.

  Why did some people conceive so easily, while others tried for years, crying their eyes out month after month?

  Dawn and Joe had married in their late twenties, then put off having children until they could buy a house. They found the perfect place about five years ago, a sprawling, four-bedroom home with a big backyard that was located in a great, kid-friendly neighborhood.

  But their plans hadn’t worked out the way they’d hoped.

  After several heartbreaking miscarriages and a subsequent hysterectomy, Dawn had been forced to accept the fact that she and Joe would never have a child.

  They’d talked about adoption, of course. But then her mother had gotten sick, and Dawn’s time had been taken up driving her mom to dialysis and doctor’s appointments until she passed away last month. So she and Joe had never gotten around to filling out the paperwork. And from what she’d heard, there was a shortage of babies and an abundance of willing parents. So who knew how long they might have to wait.

  She stole another peek at Renee. There she went again, caressing that rounded belly.

  Dawn supposed a large stomach could be part of the girl’s natural build, but that didn’t seem likely. Her small, delicate hands didn’t seem to fit with a large midsection.

  “Your husband hasn’t come back yet,” Renee said, drawing Dawn from her speculation. “Do you think there’s a problem? Like maybe he got a flat tire or something?”

  “It’s possible, but he has a cell phone, so I’m sure he would have called. I think it’s more likely that he’s chatting with Mrs. Rogers. She lost her husband recently, after fifty-six years of marriage, and she’s been lonely. I know Joe feels sorry for her. I imagine he’s running errands or fixing something for her because she doesn’t have any children to look after her.”

  The reality of the elderly woman’s plight slammed into Dawn, and she struggled not to wince at a pang of sadness.

  Is that what her future held? Would she find herself alone and helpless in her twilight years, waiting for neighbors and friends to step in to drive her places and fix her clogged sink?

  Renee tucked a stringy strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “That’s kind of cool, don’t you think?”

  “What’s cool?” Dawn asked, afraid she’d missed part of the conversation while she pondered her lonely fate.

  “That your husband’s a guy and all, and that he’s being so nice to an old lady.”

  “Joe’s got a soft spot for the elderly.”

  “How come?” she asked. “Not that I think it’s weird and all, but old people are kind of … Well, the ones who lived in the apartment building where I used to stay were kind of mean and cranky. So I avoided them whenever I could.”

  “Joe came from a large family, and his grandparents lived at his house while he grew up. They’re both gone no
w, and he misses them a lot.”

  She seemed to think about that for a moment. “I’m glad to know there are some really nice guys out there.”

  Dawn suspected Renee might have gotten pregnant by a not-so-nice guy. That is, if she was really pregnant. Again she tried to shrug off the possibility by saying, “You’re right about Joe. I certainly lucked out when I met him.”

  Gerald Martindale, a Korean War veteran, stood from where he’d been sitting with Harvey Kingman, and waved at Dawn. “See you tomorrow,” he called out. “I’ve got to get home. The neighbors asked me to let their dog out while they’re gone.”

  Dawn waved back. “Have a good afternoon, Gerald.”

  “He seems kind of nice, too,” Renee said quietly.

  “Remind me to introduce you to Mrs. Rogers. She’s not the least bit crotchety, and I think you’ll really like her.”

  “Okay.”

  Dawn couldn’t help wondering about the place where Renee used to live. It was hard to imagine that all of the elderly tenants were mean. But it was her current situation that concerned her the most.

  “Where do you live now?” she asked.

  “Not too far from here.”

  “What street are you on?”

  Renee paused for the longest minute, as though she couldn’t remember the name. Then she said, “Canyon Place.”

  Dawn knew where Canyon Drive was, so she must be talking about one of the side streets, but she just couldn’t picture it in her mind. “Are you living in a house or an apartment?”

  “I guess you’d call it kind of a studio apartment. It’s pretty small, but it’s clean. It’s also furnished and has a great view, so I can’t really complain.”

  At least she wasn’t homeless. But Dawn suspected most of her money went to rent, which was probably why she was utilizing the soup kitchen.

  “Do you live with anyone?” Dawn asked, wondering if she had parents or friends.

  “Just myself.”

  Maybe Dawn was reading more into her situation than she should, but she had a feeling that Renee hadn’t had too many people in her corner over the years—no matter how many of them she’d actually lived with.