by Shawn Inmon
Ben steepled his fingers against his chin. The gesture made him look more like an altar boy than a wizened professional. After a moment’s contemplation, he nodded.
“How do you feel about nepotism?”
“This coming from someone whose mom is running his office? All I care about is finding someone that can handle all the details I know I would let get away from me.”
“I have a cousin who’s a few years older than me. She’s been working for one of the bigger construction companies, doing work like this—pulling permits, overseeing job sites, organizing projects.”
“She?”
“Yep. She. A little unusual, I know, in this field, but she’s the first person that came to mind. I’ve known her all my life and she’s the most diligent person I’ve ever known.”
“Sold. She sounds like just what we need.”
“Great. I have a feeling she’ll prefer a gig like this to what she’s doing, but she’ll want to meet with you first and she’ll have to give her current employer at least a few weeks’ notice. He’s come to rely on her pretty heavily.”
“I would expect no less. You’ve got my number, can you have her call me?”
“Her name is Samantha, but everyone calls her Sam. I’ll have her call you tonight.”
JOE AND SCOTT ARRANGED to meet Sam at Verrazano’s the following evening. They arrived twenty minutes early.
“What do you expect her to be like?” Scott asked.
“Organized?” Joe answered.
“You’re hilarious. Seriously, what do you think?”
“No real idea at all. What does a smart, organized person look like? Thick glasses and carries a big stack of books around with her?”
While they were absorbed in their conversation, an attractive young woman had approached their table. Joe and Scott looked up with a smile.
“Sorry to disappoint, boys. I left my thick glasses at home today. I do have a stack of plans out in my pickup, though, if you’d like me to fetch them.”
Joe and Scott both hung their heads. Joe choked a bit on the sip of tea he had just taken.
“Sam?”
“The one and only.”
Sam Straley was not in the least bit bookwormish. She was petite, with short blonde hair and freckles. She would not have looked out of place on a southern California beach, aside from her no-nonsense khaki pants and work shirt.
“Pleased to meet you,” Joe said “Sorry...”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a woman in a man’s world. If I was the sensitive type, I wouldn’t have lasted twenty-four hours. So. Let’s talk about this project of yours.”
The conversation started over bread served with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, continued through clam fettucine and lasagna, and lasted long after the last dish had been cleared away.
By the end of the evening, Joe, Scott, and Sam all knew they had found a perfect match.
Chapter Forty-Five
“I’ve gotta head out, brother. I haven’t been in one place this long in years, and my feet are itching for the open road.”
Scott Mckenzie had just walked through Joe’s back door and was having his first cup of coffee for the day—a ritual they both enjoyed. Jenny always gave a single woof when Scott opened the door, but it was her happy “I know you!” woof.
Joe looked at his back door and saw Scott’s bedroll, packed and ready for the road.
“You’re not gonna leave me to do this all alone are you?”
It had been six weeks since their first meeting with Sam, and the project had expanded and picked up steam.
“Absolutely not.”
“Good. I thought you were serious, hauling your bug out bag around with you like that.”
“Oh, I’m serious about leaving. You just won’t be alone, and you know it. You are the money and idea man. Sam is the person that makes things happen. Happily, that means you don’t need this old soldier.”
“Damn. I don’t know why, but I was sure hoping you were going to hang around through the duration of the project.”
Scott shook his head. “This project is bigger than both of us. It’s going to take years. No insult intended to the tiny hamlet of Middle Falls, Oregon, but if I had to stay here until then, I’d be crazier than I am now. It’s not my nature to stay in one place this long.”
“Tell me that you’ll at least check in every few days, so I can tell you all the ways I’m messing up.”
“Deal.” Scott set his empty cup down in the sink, picked up his bedroll and headed to the front door without ceremony.
“Hold on, brother.” Joe grabbed Scott in a hug. “Don’t stay gone too long, all right?”
Scott gripped Joe on the shoulder. “I won’t. I’m going to be out there, scouting for our first customers, remember?”
Joe nodded. “You’re right. That was our plan.”
“For now, though, I’ve got a few people on my list I want to get to before I get too old to wield this baton. Right now, a certain Green River Killer should be looking over his shoulder, because I’m coming for him.”
Scott slipped through the front door and was gone.
Joe wandered through his small house for an hour. Aside from their morning coffee, Scott had rarely been inside it, but it felt empty once again.
He picked up his phone and dialed Sam’s number. It rang six times, then an answering machine picked up.
It would be easier to get everything done if we were a few years further into the future and I could just call her cell phone when I needed to.
Joe locked up the house and he and Jenny jumped in Stan’s old Courier pickup and backed onto the street. “Rent a husband” was still painted on the passenger doors, although it was faded now. He drove past downtown to a flat parcel of land on the edge of town.
In Joe’s first life, the property had been bought by the city of Middle Falls for its new water and sewage treatment plant sometime in the 1990s. In this life, it was destined to be the home of the new center for veterans.
Gotta think of a snappy name for this place. It’ll come to me.
Joe had spent much of the previous month looking at every available parcel of land in Middle Falls that was big enough to sustain the footprint he and Scott had in mind. The same real estate agent he had used to sell his house years earlier had suggested this spot. As soon as he drove up to it, Joe knew it was perfect.
It was ringed at the back by a stand of trees, which also ran alongside the west side of the property. The rest of the acreage was level and clear. The lot sat on the outer edge of town, far enough away from residential neighborhoods that it didn’t cause a stir. Everyone wanted someone to do something for homeless and struggling veterans, but no one wanted that facility in their own backyard. It wasn’t in a neighborhood, but it was close enough to the infrastructure of the city, that water and sewer hookups were already in the street. That shortened their development and permitting period dramatically.
Joe pulled his tiny pickup in behind a newer-model Ford F150.
Should’ve known she’d be here already. Can’t keep her away.
“Sam!” Joe called across the lot.
“Over here!” a faraway voice answered.
Joe headed toward the sound of the voice. A hundred yards later, he came across Sam, bent at the waist, spray-painting a circle on the ground and drawing an X through it.
Whatever Ben said you were going to be, he undersold you. Everyone is going to think this project is mine, but without you, it wouldn’t get off the ground.
“How did I know I would find you here?”
Sam straightened and pushed a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes. “Because I’m always here?”
Joe chuckled. “It does seem like you’re here more than home. Or arguing with the city about permits.”
“The city is difficult, but not intractable. I can usually help them see the light.”
“We’ve been working together for a month now, and I’m a little embarrassed that I don�
�t really know anything about you, other than this entire project can’t survive without you now. You married?”
Sam nodded. “Yep. At the moment, I’m married to this job. Before this, I was married to that job. I never seem to find time to socialize and date. Men don’t seem to fall for the girl whose mind is constantly on blueprints, plat maps, and building specs.” She looked at Joe appraisingly. “What about you? Married? Girlfriend?”
“Nope. Women don’t seem to appreciate men who essentially live like a hermit.” He smiled. “It’s not that bad. I used to keep to myself all the time, but now I’ve got a lot going on.”
“You used to, huh? Sometimes you sound like an old man, looking back at a lifetime’s experiences, instead of what you are, which is what? A twenty-five year old, maybe?”
“Close enough. I feel older than that, sometimes.”
“I’ll give you credit for this—you’re much more mature than most men I meet that are years or decades older than you.”
Is that a compliment, since I’m actually in my fifties, now? I guess so, but I should be more mature than I look.
“Anyway,” Sam continued, “I’ve just got a roommate, and she feels like she’s getting a good deal. She gets to split the rent with someone who’s only home to sleep and shower. You live alone?”
“No, I’ve got Jenny,” he said, pointing at her on the other side of the meadow, chasing down an interesting smell. “And I’ve got a cat named Allen. He’s king of the castle. I only live there to serve him.”
“Oh, I knew about Jenny, of course. I think she’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Jenny’s ears pricked up at the sound of her name and she came jogging over to them, begging for a scratch behind her ears. Sam knelt down and nuzzled her, which Jenny accepted with aplomb.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, come on over here. I want to show you where the pond’s going to go in.”
They walked side by side across the site, pointing and dreaming of what would be.
Chapter Forty-Six
It took three years to get from the first blush of an idea to reality, but it did happen.
Sam Staley gave her heart to the project. Every twelve months, Joe gave her a raise but knew she was still underpaid for what she did.
In May of 1988, Joe Hart was twenty-eight years old. In some ways, he was unchanged. He still dressed the same—t-shirts or flannel shirts, jeans, and tennis shoes or work boots. He was still a little on the thin side and wore his hair the same way.
In all the ways that counted, though, the previous three years had changed him once again. Being the driving force behind a project that evolved into something so immense brought him completely out of his shell. He spent hours every day on the job site, working side by side with the construction crew and collaborating with Sam on every detail.
He had become a part of a team that was working toward a single goal and it was there he managed to find the beginning of the family he had sought all his life.
Every Sunday in the spring and summer, Joe hosted a barbecue in his back yard and invited all the workers and their families. Eventually, that grew to a point that he invited his whole neighborhood as well, and it became a block party at Joe’s house every Sunday. Joe bought the meat and soda and everyone else brought the side dishes.
The boy who had been a hermit had become the man with more friends than he could count. Every one of them was a blessing to him.
The first time Sam brought a dish, Joe learned that her skills did not necessarily extend from being organized to being a good cook. At the end of the day, her baked beans was one of the few dishes with a lot of leftovers. Joe surreptitiously scooped them into a bowl so she wouldn’t see that her offering had gone uneaten.
Over the years, word spread that Joe was spending the money he got from his father’s royalties to give back and an unusual thing happened. Eight years after Forever for You had fallen off the charts, Music Directors at radio stations around the country began programming it again. For a second time, it hit the American Top 40. It wasn’t the smash number one song it had been the first time, but it made it to #18, which added yet more money to the coffers. The harder he tried to give the money away, the faster it grew.
Scott Mckenzie had stopped in on three occasions, as he had promised he would. Each time, they wandered around the job site and marveled at what had come from one simple conversation over a steak in Joe’s backyard. Scott never stayed long, though. For all his talk about getting off the road and no longer stopping bad people doing bad things, he kept at it.
On May 18, 1988, exactly ten years after Joe had fruitlessly saved the lives of Bobby and JD, Sam called Joe and asked him if he could come to the site. He loaded Jenny into the Olds—she needed a little more help in getting up into the seat of the Courier these days—and headed straight over.
As he approached, he marveled at what they had accomplished. It was no longer just a construction project; it had taken the shape of a small village. And, there was something new—a large sign had been erected over the gate that opened onto the project. Joe squinted at it, but could only see it was covered in canvas. All the workers were gathered around, with Sam at the forefront and Ben Jenkins standing beside her.
What are these guys up to now?
Joe rolled up and stopped right in front of them. He climbed out with a small smile playing on his lips. “What? Did we dig down too deep and discover oil or something? What’s everybody smiling about?”
Sam took a step forward. “I try to get your approval on everything, but I know you, and I know how modest you are—“
“—With good reason,” Joe interrupted.
“—but, we wanted to do this for you anyway. This didn’t come out of the project budget. We all got together and did it for you out of our pockets. To say thank you. Thank you for letting us all be part of this. Thank you for what you are doing for those who can’t do for themselves. But mostly, thank you for who you are.”
She stepped up and hugged Joe, then kissed his cheek. The cheek on the left side of his face, where his birthmark was.
The thirty or so workers broke out into applause.
Sam put her arm around Joe and said, “Let ‘er rip, Tony!”
A burly man tugged on a rope and the canvas fell away.
The sign was a dark, burnished metal. White ceramic letters spelled out, “The Rodrigo Hart Oasis for Veterans.” Beneath that, in smaller letters, it read, “A refuge from the storms we carry with us.” That line was a quote from one of Rodrigo’s songs.
Over the course of three lifetimes, Joe Hart had never cried in front of anyone. Not even when he had fallen down on the playground and bloodied his nose in third grade. That streak ended when he saw the sign. He tried to speak, but his throat was thick and nothing came out.
“We’ve been talking about a name for this place for years,” Sam said in a rush. “And we could never settle on one. When Scott came to visit a few months ago, he told me your dad was a vet, too. That’s when everything fell into place. We passed the hat for the materials and the workmen did the rest when they were off the clock. They wanted to make it for you.”
Joe nodded. This project has felt so right from the very beginning. Now, it feels complete.
Joe rubbed the back of his hand across his face and hugged Sam close to him. He smiled at Ben, thinking of the day he sat in his law office, when this was only a dream.
“This project—no, sorry, this oasis—has given my life meaning. I wanted to give a little something out to the world. Instead, it’s been given back to me a thousand times over. This whole thing is the brainchild of my friend Scott. I wish he was here today to see this. Sometimes I stop and wonder where my life would be if he hadn’t thought of all this. I’d be a lot lonelier, that’s for sure.”
Joe looked from face to face. He knew all of them by name, as well as their wives and children.
“I hope you all know that when this is finished and you’
ve gone on to other jobs, this gate will always be open to you. I’m gonna be pretty unhappy if you don’t all stop in and beat me at pool or ping-pong at least once in a while.”
Joe cleared his throat, eyes still shining in the morning sun.
“Now, let’s get back to work and get this job finished!”
Chapter Forty-Seven
The Rodrigo Hart Oasis for Vets was a sight to behold. A model of what could be accomplished when good people put their minds on a single project. There were a dozen small cottages modeled after the mother-in-law home that Stan Fornowski had built. These units were designed for veterans having the toughest times. It allowed them privacy and a chance to heal and think on their own.
Running down the middle of the compound were two long bunkhouses that could house twenty-five men in each. These were for those who needed a place to stay, but also wanted the company and support of others around them.
There was an administration building, a mess hall, a counseling office, and the rec hall. The rec hall was one of the two biggest buildings of all—big enough that most everyone could fit in it at once. Inside it, there was a small auditorium where movies could be played, a large open room with half a dozen pool and ping-pong tables. There were even a couple of card tables in one corner, although one of the rules of the Oasis was that there was no gambling allowed. Joe didn’t want someone to come in and relieve everyone of their benefits checks. Everyone stayed at the Oasis for free, which allowed them to stockpile those checks and have a little head start when they left.
The outside was landscaped to fit in with the surrounding area. No flower beds, but lots of shade trees and natural growth forest. There were long, twisting walking paths that led through the trees and around the duck pond.
Joe’s pride and joy, though, was the new Middle Falls animal shelter. He had made a deal with Debbie to move the whole operation under the umbrella of his own non-profit. The new shelter was almost three times the size of the old one, and with a better design and layout, it was able to house four times as many animals. The only thing Joe asked in return was that it be converted to a no-kill shelter. Debbie happily agreed.