More Than Words: Stories of Hope

by Diana Palmer; Kasey Michaels; Catherine Mann

  Until he said it, she hadn’t realized how thin she was spreading herself. She was beginning to have some chest pain that was unexpected and alarming. She hadn’t mentioned it, thinking that perhaps if she ignored it, it would go away. But that wasn’t happening.

  “I can do it as long as I need to,” she said firmly.

  “You’re like me, aren’t you?” he mused, smiling. “You’re stubborn.”

  “Yes, I think I am,” she agreed, smiling back. He made her feel young. He was like a sip of cold water on a hot day. He was invigorating.

  “I have ulterior motives, you know,” he commented. “I’m fond of you. I don’t want you to keel over from stress.”

  She was touched. “I promise not to keel over,” she told him.

  He signed. “Okay. That will have to do for now. But you really should think about delegating more. And eventually, you’re going to need some agency to help you oversee the project. It’s outgrowing you by the day.”

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” she said.

  “Talk to Bev,” he told her. “She’s been in this sort of work for a long time, and she knows everybody else who’s involved in it. She may have some ideas.”

  “I’ll do that,” Mary promised.

  “Meanwhile,” he drawled, “don’t forget Sunday.”

  She had forgotten. Her wide-eyed stare made him burst out laughing.

  “Well, that puts me in my place,” he said with a grin. “I’ll have to stop strutting and thinking I’m God’s gift to overworked womanhood.”

  She smiled at him. “You’re a nice guy, Matt. I’d only forgotten today. I’d have remembered when I went home, because it’s all the kids talk about.”

  “So I made an impression, did I?”

  “A big one,” she agreed. “They like you.”

  “I’m glad. I like them. A lot.”

  “Speaking of the movies, it turns out Tammy has a prior commitment and can’t watch the baby after all. Looks like he’d be joining us. Hope that’s okay.”

  “No problem,” Matt reassured her.

  “Hey, are you guys coming, or what?” Sam called from the parking lot. “We’re running behind schedule.”

  “Sorry, Sam,” Mary said at once, preceding Matt out the door. “Let’s go!”

  They had a routine of sorts by now, through the various shelters and homeless camps. People came out to meet them when they saw the headlights, and there were beaming faces when the smell of food wafted out of the containers that were presented to the staff for their residents.

  “We never had stuff like this to eat before,” one disabled young woman commented to Mary at the women’s shelter. “You sure are nice to do this for us.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Mary said, searching for the right words.

  The young woman smiled and walked away to the kitchen as quickly as she could with her crutches.

  “That’s Anna. She has multiple sclerosis,” the shelter manager told Mary quietly. “Usually she’s in a wheelchair, but it got stolen two days ago when she left it outside the stall in a rest room a block away.” She shook her head. “Imagine, somebody stealing a woman’s wheelchair and nobody noticing!”

  “How did she get here?” Mary wondered.

  “One of our regulars saw her holding on to walls trying to walk. She came back here and borrowed our spare crutches that I keep in the office for Anna. She’s been using them ever since, but it’s hard for her to walk with wasted muscles.”

  “Is there some sort of program that could get her a wheelchair?”

  The woman grimaced. “She’d probably qualify if she could get into the system. That’s the problem. We have to have a caseworker come here and fill out forms, then there’s a waiting period, and she might or might not get accepted on the first try. Bureaucracy is slow.”

  Mary sighed. “If I had the money, I’d buy her a wheelchair,” she said.

  “Me, too,” the shelter manager said quietly.

  They exchanged glances.

  “No matter how much we do, it’s like filling up a barrel with a teaspoon, isn’t it?” Mary asked. “There’s so much need, and so few people trying to meet it. Federal and state and local programs do what they can. But there are limits to any budget, and so many people fall through the cracks.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I found that out the hard way,” Mary said.

  “You?” the manager exclaimed.

  “I’m living in a motel room with three kids, holding down a full-time job, six days a week, sometimes seven, and I do this after I get off, every day,” Mary told her. “Because no matter how bad things are for me, everybody I meet in these shelters is so much worse off.”

  “My dear,” the manager said, lost for words.

  “It’s been a learning experience for all of us,” Mary told her. “We’ve learned so much about human nature since we began this project. And despite our own circumstances, people have just been so kind to us,” she emphasized. “I never knew how kind total strangers could be until we ended up like this.”

  “I like the feeling I get when I know I’ve helped someone out of a particularly bad spot, given them hope,” the manager said with a warm smile.

  “I do, too. It makes it all worthwhile.”

  “And you have three kids.” She shook her head. “I only had one, and he’s got a wife and three kids of his own. We had a good home and a comfortable income.” She glanced at Mary. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Mary laughed. “Maybe I’m just out of my mind,” she suggested.

  The other woman laughed, too. “If you are, I wish we had a hundred more just like you. Thanks, Mary. Thanks a million.”

  “It’s my pleasure. And I mean that.” Mary smiled.

  The next day Billie let Mary off an hour early with no argument at all. “And I’ll see you at the shelter in an hour,” she added. “You know, this has given me a new lease on life. I’ve been so depressed lately. It was time I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started being useful for a change. I’m very grateful to you for helping me.”

  “We’re all grateful to you for helping us,” Mary replied. “And I’ll see you at the shelter at five.”

  She was still driving the car that Debbie had loaned her, and Tammy had demanded that Mary let her keep John during the day.

  “I have all this room and only two kids,” Tammy had argued. “And both of them love having John around to play with. Besides, I heard from a reliable source that Jack left town so there’s no danger that he’s going to track the kids down anytime soon. It’s only for a couple of weeks, until you get some sort of system worked out. So humor me!”

  Mary had, with more gratitude than she could express.

  She picked up John at Tammy’s and went with him to the shelter where Matt was ready to feed information into the computer.

  Two of the shelter workers came right up to take John.

  “Let them,” Bev coaxed when Mary started to protest. “We all love kids, you know that. You just help Matt get that schedule on a disk and we’ll take care of John.”

  “Thanks,” Mary said, smiling.

  She sat down beside Matt at the long table. The computer was an old one, but it seemed to be workable.

  “The one I have in my squad car is older than this,” he pointed out as he opened a file in a word processor. “It’s going to be a piece of cake, getting your schedule fed into this thing. Okay. I’m ready. Let’s see that notebook.”

  She produced it and opened it to the appropriate page.

  He glanced down and his eyes widened. “Good Lord, woman, you call this handwriting? I’m amazed you didn’t fail first grade!”

  She burst out laughing. “You listen here, I got awards for my penmanship in high school!”

  “From doctors, no doubt,” he drawled.

  She gave him a restrained glare. “So I was in a little bit of a hurry when I scribbled these things down,” she confessed finally.

 
; He chuckled. “Actually, I had a partner whose handwriting was even worse than yours. Every time he wrote out a traffic citation, we got a call from the clerk of court’s office asking us to translate for them.”

  “That makes me feel a little better,” she replied with a laugh.

  It was incredible how often she did that with him. Her blue eyes swept over his rugged, lined face. He put on a good front, but she could see the inner scars he carried. His whole life was there, in those deep lines.

  “Have you ever had to shoot anybody?” she asked involuntarily.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “But I’ve threatened to shoot a few people who robbed banks or abused helpless people.”

  “Good for you,” she said.

  His hands paused over the keyboard and he glanced up at her. “Could you ever date a cop?”

  She was suddenly flustered. “Well…well, I never thought about it.”

  He pursed his lips. “Wow. That puts me in my place.”

  “It does not,” she retorted. “You’re a terrific person. The job wouldn’t bother me, really. I mean, I don’t think it would matter so much if you cared about somebody.” She ground her teeth together. “I can’t put it into words.”

  “Oh, I think you did a pretty good job of expressing yourself,” he drawled, and wiggled his eyebrows.

  She chuckled. “You’re a character, you are.”

  “Takes one to know one. I think you’d better read me that list along with addresses and phone numbers. It will save hours of time trying to read your handwriting.”

  “Hold your breath until you ever get a letter from me,” she teased.

  “I like cards. Funny cards. My birthday is next month,” he hinted. “You could send me one, and I’d put it on my mantel beside the pictures of my mother and father.”

  “I’ll consider it seriously,” she promised.

  “You do that.”

  They joked back and forth as they went through the list and put all the necessary information into the computer. It wasn’t as time-consuming as Mary had thought it would be. She had to admit, she enjoyed Matt’s company. He was a complex person. She really wanted to get to know him. But it was much too soon for anything serious.

  By the time Sunday arrived, Mary was so tired that she almost thought of backing out of Matt’s generous offer to take them all to the movies.

  She had some uncomfortable palpitations, and she felt sick in her stomach. It was frightening. She knew it probably had something to do with the stress, but for the moment, she had no idea how to get out from under it.

  More importantly, she didn’t want to frighten the children. Bob and Ann were already giving her curious looks. They began to notice that her mother was pale and listless when she wasn’t working.

  “Don’t even think about trying to back out,” Matt told Mary when he was standing in the motel room, comfortable in jeans and a long-sleeved blue checked shirt with a leather jacket. “You’re going to enjoy today. I promise. Won’t she, kids?” he asked the others.

  “You bet!” they chorused.

  “A movie and a few hours of being away from work, from any work at all, will rejuvenate you,” Matt promised as he smiled down at her. “We’re going to have a ball!”

  Mary wasn’t so sure, but she got her old coat on, put the kids in theirs, and all of them went out the door to pile into Matt’s sedan.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The theater was crowded, even at the matinee, but most of the audience was made up of children. Bob met one of his friends, and went to sit with him. Ann sat on one side of Matt, and the baby, John, curled into Mary’s shoulder and promptly went to sleep.

  “He really is a good baby,” Matt whispered, watching the little boy with a tender smile.

  “He always has been,” she whispered back.

  Matt glanced toward the other kids, who were engrossed in the movie. “Were the others like this?”

  She shook her head. “Bob was a live wire, always in trouble for being mischievous. Ann refuses to show her work in math, which gets her into lots of trouble with teachers. She’s very intelligent.”

  “I noticed,” Matt agreed.

  People in the seats ahead were glaring back at them. They exchanged wry glances and paid attention to the movie.

  “That was just great!” Bob enthused when the movie was over and they were back in the car, heading for a fast-food restaurant that served chili dogs—the children’s favorite food. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Clark.”

  “Matt,” the older man corrected lazily. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Bob. So did I. I think the last movie I went to see was the second of the new Star Wars films.”

  “That was ages ago,” Ann exclaimed.

  Matt shrugged, smiling. “My social life is mostly work.”

  “Join the club,” Mary had to agree.

  “We need to do this more often,” Matt said. “At least a movie a month. If you guys would like to do that,” he added.

  There was a loud chorus of assents and excited smiles all around.

  “You’re terrific, Matt,” Ann said. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, with a smile in Mary’s direction. “Now, for chili dogs!” he added as he pulled into the fast-food restaurant.

  Mary and Matt had shared the cost of the outing, because she insisted. It had made a hole in her meager savings, but as she looked at the radiant faces of her children, she couldn’t regret doing it. Sometimes in the struggle just to survive, she forgot that the children needed more than school and work in order to thrive. They needed a little breathing space from the problems of everyday life. In fact, so did she.

  “That was really great, Matt,” Mary told him as he deposited her and the children at the motel. “I enjoyed it. So did they,” she added, nodding toward the children filing into the room with Ann carrying little John carefully in her arms.

  He smiled. “That was obvious. I’m glad, because I had a good time, too. I haven’t been out on a date since my wife left me.”

  She gave him a wry glance. “Some date,” she mused. “Me and three kids.”

  He chuckled. “I was an only child. It was sort of a dream of mine to have a big family.” He shrugged. “My wife hated kids. She didn’t like my job, either. She wanted to party all the time, and I came home dead tired at night. We were doomed to failure, I guess. Neither of us was any good at looking ahead. We married on an impulse. It was a really bad impulse.”

  She sighed. “I had those same ideals myself. I did, at least, get the big family,” she said with a smile. “But I never expected that I’d have to raise it all by myself. It’s a big responsibility.”

  He touched her hair gently, just a gesture without any demands or insistence. “Listen, if you ever need somebody to look after your brood in an emergency, I’ve got a big-screen television and lots of G-rated movies. They’d be company for me.”

  Her face became radiant. “Wouldn’t you faint if I said yes?”

  “Try me.”

  She hesitated. “I might do that one day, if you mean it.”

  His dark eyes swept over her face. “You’ve got guts. You never complain, no matter how hard your life is. You love those kids and it sticks out like a neon light. You’ve got a good sense of humor and you don’t back away from trouble. I think you’re an exceptional woman. Having got that out of the way,” he continued when she tried to speak, “I’ll add that I think your sons and daughter are the nicest children I’ve ever met, and some of the most unselfish. It wouldn’t be any chore to look after them, as long as I’m not on duty. I don’t think you’d like having me take them on a high-speed chase or to make a drug bust.”

  She laughed. “No, really I wouldn’t. But if I get in a tight spot, I’ll remember you. I will.”

  “Good. I’ll see you at the shelter tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Thanks again, Matt.”

  “I’m lonely,” he said simply. “It was fun.”

  She watched him walk away. Her he
art felt warm and safe. She sighed like a girl. Perhaps, someday, she thought to herself.

  The routine was more fulfilling than Mary had ever dreamed it might be. She really enjoyed her trips to the restaurants and then to the shelters and homeless camps. It was the first time in her life that she’d ever felt she was making a difference. It was more than just feeding the hungry. She felt a sense of self-worth, of responsibility and pride, that she hadn’t ever known.

  To her surprise, her work was sparking comment in the community, to the extent that the shelter Bev ran got a call from a daily newspaper reporter. She wanted to do a feature article on Mary.

  At first, Mary thought about refusing. She didn’t want people to think she was doing the work just for publicity. But Bev assured her that this wasn’t going to be the case. The reporter was a vivacious young lady who sat down with Mary for half an hour and wrote a story that sounded as if she’d known Mary her whole life. Best of all, people called the shelter and volunteered their time, and money, to help the needy.

  Mary’s kids were also learning a lot about the world through helping their mother with the project. Their own generosity in helping with their mother’s routine without complaint said a lot for their unselfish natures.

  “You know,” Bob commented one evening when they’d just dropped off several containers of food at the women’s mission, “I didn’t understand how people could lose their homes and end up in places like this. I mean, not until we started taking them food.” He frowned. “There are a lot of desperate people in the world, aren’t there, Mom?” he added. “I guess what I mean is, when we’re doing this stuff for other people, it kind of helps me forget how scared and uncertain I feel myself.”

  Mary reached over and hugged him. “That’s a good feeling, too, isn’t it?”