Sheltering Hearts

by Robyn Carr

  He wore a pained expression and shook his head, looking down. “What in God’s name makes a man like that?”

  “Many things. Many different combinations of things. In his case, a father who beat his mother and him. He used drugs from time to time, and probably had a personality disorder, as well…. I was lucky to get a good lawyer and an angry judge. My ex doesn’t even have visitation and will have to go back to court if he wants to even see the kids.”

  In the darkness of her front porch, she could tell he tried to control his breathing to keep it calm. Clay was a protector of women and children. Her story would be hard for him to hear. “And you do this volunteer work because of what happened to you?”

  “No,” she said. “I do it because I was helped. I went to a support group when I moved here because I needed ongoing support after leaving Oklahoma, where I was helped so much by the Zoë Institute. I met Corsica Rios, the social worker who had been a working single mom. We had coffee together, talked about things, and got to know each other. She told me about setting up this local support group and she said, ‘They need everything! It’s not enough to feed them and cover their heads and find them work—they have to be reeducated in their own worth. It’s the only way they can go forward and create a positive environment for our next generation.’ And I said, let me tell you how I was helped. That was our beginning. We had a good model for a nonprofit organization dedicated to assisting these single mothers. And it’s working. We helped a lot of women that very first year, and more every year since. We have a shelter, and it’s always full. There’s a waiting list for women who need a place to go where they’ll be safe from an abuser. We can do better than that!” She smiled at him. “But we have a full-time director now,” she said proudly. “And sixty-two volunteers!”

  “Sixty-three,” Clay said.

  She was so surprised, she couldn’t speak for a moment. “Oh, Clay.”

  “I don’t suppose I could get a job as a bodyguard at that shelter…?”

  “I don’t suppose,” she said with a laugh. “Feel like busting some chops, do you? Believe it or not, as much as that probably comes from the heart, that’s not your best recommendation. We advocate nonviolence. Of course.”

  “I just get hot under the collar at the thought of that whole scenario. But there are lots of other things you can use help with. Nobody loves a cause like a bunch of firefighters,” he said. “Yours wouldn’t be the first or only nonprofit group we support, either. There are a million things we can do, from food drives to fundraisers. We’re really good at baseball tournaments that pit the firehouses against each other.”

  “What fun!”

  “We give kids tours of the firehouses all the time—kids without dads would be even more important. I bet I can get our female crew members to go along with that idea. And how about pancake breakfasts and barbecues?”

  “You’re after my job,” she said with a laugh.

  “I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind helping with a good cause. It’s like Stan said—all of us are impacted by the need. It’s in our families, our neighborhoods, churches, schools. Sometimes it’s right next door. Dory,” he said softly, seriously, “I’m real sorry that happened to you. And I’m real glad you’re a survivor.”

  “Clay, I just want you to know that the reason I’ve never accepted a date with you doesn’t have anything to do with you. You seem to be a great guy, and you’re terrific with the kids. Because of what I’ve gone through the last several years, I don’t entirely trust my instincts about me. I should never have ended up in that terrible relationship—I wasn’t raised that way. My aunt and uncle were good, solid, loving people.”

  “You’re older now,” he pointed out. “Wiser. More experienced.”

  “And I’ve learned that many women just like me end up in trouble. But that’s not my point—I really just wanted to apologize because I know you didn’t understand. And I wasn’t ready to explain at the time.”

  He stood and drained his beer. “It’s perfectly understandable, Dory. Thanks for telling me.”

  She stood, as well. “And thanks for your offer of help.”

  “Yeah, I mean it, too. Listen…” He paused and looked down briefly. “I want to say something. I’m not good at this sort of thing, but I’ll try. I know you’ve been in a really bad place. I understand you have healing to do and strength to build—and I admire you for it. I’m not going to pester you for dates—I can see that’s not the way to go with you. But I want you to know—when your heart heals, when you feel strong and more sure of yourself, when you feel sure about me, and you’re ready, I want to take you some place really nice. Just me and you. And I want you to know that I’ll see it as a beginning for us. I’ve waited a long time to find someone like you. You’re the kind of woman I’m looking for. When you’re ready.”

  “You underestimate yourself. I think you said that very well,” she said softly.

  “Thanks. And thanks for the beans. They really were good. I’ll have to get the recipe—the guys at work would love it.”

  “I’ll write it down for you.”

  “Well, I’ll get going then. And I’ll definitely talk to the guys about volunteering.”

  “That would be so awesome.”

  He nodded and turned away, stepping down the porch steps to walk back across the yard to his own house.

  “Clay?” she said to his back. He turned to look at her, standing on the porch steps. “I think I’m ready. Now.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ready? Had she really said that aloud?

  Clay took a couple of slow steps toward her. He took the bottle of beer out of her hand and set both his and hers on the porch floor. He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face up to his. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered. “Do you even know how pretty you are?”

  She shook her head. Truly, she didn’t. Confidence came hard in many areas of her life. But in one thing she was feeling much more certain—this was a fine man.

  He touched her lips softly with his. Then a little more firmly. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, covering her mouth in a searing, hot, fantastic kiss. Her arms slowly encircled his shoulders to hold him close and she let him part her lips. He moved over her mouth with warm, passionate, delicious pleasure, a moan coming from somewhere deep inside him. When the kiss came to an end, he didn’t retreat far. Dory sighed against his lips—an “mmmm” escaped her.

  “You taste wonderful,” Clay said.

  “I taste like beer and beans,” she said with a half laugh.

  “I didn’t notice,” he said, holding her. “Dory, it’s going to be hard to go slow with you.”

  “But very necessary,” she said.

  His lips found her neck and he seemed to breathe in her scent. Then he was kissing her again, and not only did he hold her tight against him, but Dory pulled him nearer and moved under his lips. She tilted her head to get a better fit, to bring him passionately closer. When he broke the kiss, he was breathing hard. “If I kiss you every day for the rest of your life, will that be slow enough?”

  “I think so,” she said in a breath.

  Then the kissing began again and Dory was completely lost. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall in love with him quickly. Desperately in love. But maybe she had started loving him when he played with the kids that first time…. And started loving him more when he said he’d be her newest volunteer. And perhaps she was totally sunk when he’d said when you’re ready.

  His lips went back to her neck. “Please don’t move, Dory.”

  “Okay,” she said, feeling so much more connected now, against him, warm and safe in his arms.

  “I have to go home now,” he whispered. “Home to my own house.”

  “I know.”

  “In just a second, I have to leave….”

  “I know. But it’s still early. What will you do?”

  “Hmm. Grab a shower, I think. A really, really cold one.”

 
She laughed a little and said, “Oh-oh.”

  He pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. “There’s one thing you need to know, honey. You can trust me. You’re in no position to take chances and I swear, you can trust me.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I better go,” he said huskily. “While I can still walk.”

  She wondered if she would crumble to the ground when he let go. “And while I can still stand,” she said.

  “G’night,” he muttered. And then with a groan he let go of her and turned away, walking across the wide yards to his house. When he got to his own porch he turned and lifted his hand toward her.

  And Dory lifted hers.

  When she walked inside, she found Sophie sitting on the sofa in her nightie, apparently waiting for her to come inside.

  “You were kissing Clay,” Sophie said.

  Nothing but the truth in our house, Dory reminded herself. “Yes,” she said. “I was.”

  “Good. I like Clay.”

  Dory chuckled and tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re only eight?”

  “Are you going to marry him?”

  “Right now I’m going to be his good friend. I’m going to have a date with him one of these days and you and Austin will have a sitter so I can have a grown-up date. When men and women who are all grown up become very good friends, they sometimes kiss. Only if it’s okay with both of them, but it has to be okay with both of them. Do you understand that?”

  She nodded. “Is he like a boy friend?”

  “Well, I haven’t thought about this a lot yet, but I guess he is. Like a boyfriend.”

  “Good,” Sophie said. “I wondered if we’d ever get us a boyfriend! Night, Mommy.”

  “Night, sweetheart,” she said, almost laughing out loud.

  CLAY KENNEDY HAD TO report for his twenty-four-hour shift the very next morning, and one of the first things he did was tell his buddy Charlie what had happened to Dory as a result of the incident in the parking lot.

  “You’re kidding me?” Charlie said with bark. “That old creep.”

  “That’s what I thought. He had a few pretty negative things to say about Dory’s commitment to her foundation. In fact, he said some real negative things about single mothers on the job—like he couldn’t be bothered because they have to miss work for the kids sometimes.”

  “I’ve missed work because of situations with kids!” Charlie said.

  “I have a sister who runs into this kind of attitude at her job—and if she couldn’t hold that job, my folks and I would be supporting her.”

  “Well, I have an ex-wife, and I do the best I can by her and the kids, but she’s still gotta work. And she doesn’t need that kind of resistance.”

  “I told Dory we’d lend a little support to her foundation. They’re on a shoestring and need everything from donated food items to money. Probably mostly money.”

  “I’m on board,” Charlie said. “The rest of these guys will do anything to look like heroes. But that’s not the first thing we’re going to do.”

  AT ABOUT TEN IN the morning, the rig pulled into the grocery-store parking lot and a bunch of firefighters sauntered into the store. Right up front, smiling one of his big smiles, was Mr. Sills, the manager. “Welcome, gentlemen, welcome! If there’s anything we can help you find, please let us know.”

  The firefighters shopped regularly, and for a big crew, too. Not only did they feed their own house, they had frequent drop-ins from cops and highway patrol who didn’t have a gang meal going on at their stations. Firefighters were famous for making huge, wonderful meals. Clay supposed it was worth some good money to the grocer.

  “We’re not shopping today, Mr. Sills. In fact, we stopped by to let you know why we won’t be shopping here anymore. I heard through the grapevine that you let that cashier go—the one who helped out when that young woman was under attack in your parking lot.”

  “Oh?” he said, eyebrows up, as if totally surprised.

  “Dory Finn,” Clay said. “You fired her for that.”

  “Oh, that,” he said. He laughed uncomfortably. “I’m sure that can be worked out. It was one of those, you know, spur-of-the-moment reactions.”

  Charlie stepped forward. “Were your comments about not hiring single mothers because they were undependable spur-of-the-moment, too? Because I’m divorced, Mr. Sills, and I try to take good care of my family, but my ex-wife needs her job, and fortunately she doesn’t have a boss as unsympathetic as you. Nah, I’m getting my groceries somewhere else.”

  “My mother raised me alone,” another firefighter said. “Come to think about it, we’ve had at least a couple of United States presidents raised by single mothers, including the current one. Guess that means it must pay off to give them all the support we can—pay it forward, if you get my drift.”

  “Gentlemen, I’m sure this was exaggerated.”

  “I doubt it,” Clay said. “A lie would cause Dory’s tongue to fall out.”

  “Tell her to come and see me—we’ll work it out.”

  “I’ll run that by her, but she’s already got another job, and this one actually caters to single moms, knowing what a great work force that can be,” Clay said.

  “I’ll pass the word, too,” Charlie put in. “I’m telling all my friends, neighbors and family. I have quite a large family around here. I doubt they’ll want to get their groceries here any longer.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I guess that sums it up, Mr. Sills. We completely disagree with your take on single moms. So…gee…have a good life.”

  And they departed in force.

  SUMMER WAS ALMOST upon the land. School would be out in less than a week and Dory Finn’s life had taken an entirely new direction. She woke up earlier and earlier each day, too excited about the prospects that lay ahead to sleep. She started each day with a cup of coffee at the computer she kept at home, working for a while before the kids woke up.

  After taking them to school, Dory went to her new office at The Single Mother’s Resource Center. Before they had a center, it was difficult to get a large number of their volunteers in one place at the same time, but that was no longer an issue. For meetings they gathered at the center. There was also space now to leave their essential items—like posters and fliers advertising the upcoming single moms’ conference; the gift baskets that would be given away; the food and supplies that were being collected for their food closet. Their July conference would be held at the local Presbyterian church. The pastor and his wife had turned out to be major supporters, willing to do anything and everything to help them.

  The shelter they maintained for families of domestic abuse stayed full, always with a waiting list. But they were successful in moving women and children through there pretty quickly, making room for the next ones. It was a small house, but a safe one. And their goal was to eventually have more than one, or at least a larger one.

  Things were so much more organized, with one person in a static location to ride herd on all the projects and people involved. And because they now had an address and business cards were scattered everywhere, people who needed them were calling and stopping by. It was not at all unusual to have a woman with kids in tow drop in to the center. Sometimes she needed absolutely everything; sometimes she was merely curious or even wanted to help as a volunteer.

  And of course Dory had a new volunteer—Clay Kennedy. He was organizing a competitive baseball tournament between area firehouses. An entry fee would be collected, admission would be charged, a big barbecue would follow the playoff games—for a price—and he had managed to arrange for the food to be donated. It was destined to make a bunch of money for the center—money they could put to very good use. And it would probably become a popular tournament, with competitive players going after the title year after year. Clay was also regularly picking up food items for her closet.

  And he was kissing Dory whenever possible. Sometimes they’d duck behind
a tree, only to be caught. Sophie would say, “You’re kissing again!” and Austin would say, “Blllkkk!” She suspected Clay enjoyed getting caught. It was like marking his territory with the kids. If she didn’t have evening meetings and he wasn’t doing his twenty-four hours at the firehouse, they often had dinner together followed by a private meeting on the front porch after the dishes were done.

  Just the evening before, he had some things on his mind—a new dimension to this still new relationship.

  “We need a better game plan for summer,” Clay said. “On my days off, I want you to let me take charge of the kids so you can be at the center. I’ll get them to T-ball and Little League practice and all that stuff. It takes the strain off you a little bit so you don’t have a hard time adding ball games to your schedule, because I know you really want to go to as many games as possible—and you have kids in two different leagues. Know what I mean?”

  Boy, did she know! Between her work with the center and the kids’ activities, it was sometimes a push keeping the schedules straight. “I appreciate the offer,” she said to Clay. “But that’s too much. We’re not your responsibility.”

  “I want to do it, Dory,” he said. “It’s not something I have to do, and I don’t have any ulterior motives. It’s not about getting closer to you—though I’ll take any invitation I can get.” And then he grinned. “They’re good kids and I’m good with kids. I can get a letter of recommendation from my sisters. They take complete advantage of me.”

  “Do they, now?” she asked with a smile.

  “Absolutely. And speaking of my family, the rest of them want to meet you. We have to pick a day you can come to a family picnic, meet the whole gang.”

  “Have you been talking about me?”

  “Not really. I brag. No one can believe I have a girl as beautiful as you, so you have to give me credibility and meet the family.”