Skye

by Heather Gray

  Jette, again. “How do you know that? You could put a stipulation into the sales contract to prevent that.”

  The waitress approached with a large round tray and five servings of tiramisu for the crowded table.

  Tawny dug into their shared piece while Skye answered the question. “I’ve received a couple of offers even though I haven’t gone looking for them. People either tell me outright that they plan to move the manufacturing overseas, or they refuse to allow any stipulations about keeping the current employees employed.”

  “Do you need to work?” This question came from the new girl, Sunny. “I mean, if you sell it, will you look for another job, or did you inherit a boatload of money to go along with the company you don’t want?”

  Tawny pushed the plate toward Skye. “Here, eat before there’s nothing left.”

  Skye savored a bite of the espresso and cream dessert before answering. “Wait a second, Tawny. You’re vegan. How can you eat tiramisu?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I’m only vegan Saturday through Thursday.”

  “Um?” Skye took another bite. “How exactly does that work?”

  Fern laughed at her. “You’ve tasted the tiramisu. That’s how part-time veganism works.”

  A glance at her plate confirmed that she had polished off the rest of the piece she’d been sharing with Tawny. “Ha. I guess I can understand.”

  Tawny pulled the empty plate back over, picked up her fork, and scraped every last morsel of flavor off of the plate. “Mock me all you want. Just come back next Friday. Oh, and answer Sunny’s nosy question. She’s waiting.”

  Skye glanced over at Sunny, who watched her with lifted eyebrows and eyes that danced with mirth. Skye shook her head. “What was the question again?”

  “Do you need to work, or are you set?”

  “I need to be smart about my money, but I won’t be flipping burgers anytime soon. Although I wouldn’t mind working here. They could pay me in desserts.”

  Ruby leaned forward. “You have to ignore Sunny. Her mom’s Italian, and her dad’s Spanish.”

  Sunny laughed. “Yeah. They say I inherited the Italian passion for life and the Spanish temper. Not sure where the lack of tact comes from, though. Both my parents are appalled by it.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Sam stepped out of the shower and used the towel to clear a spot on the fogged-up mirror.

  Today was Sunday. He loved Sundays. Today, though…

  He’d found a small church on the outskirts of town that welcomed them. New Hope Church of Rainbow Falls. Before showing up with the men in tow, he’d thought it prudent to make sure they would be well-received. New Hope had been the most amenable to the shelter’s presence in their service.

  He’d been honest. He’d told them the men had no money to give, might at times cause distraction, and sometimes might not smell all that fantastic.

  Taking the men to church with a brand-new resident always added a little extra stress, though. Jack had walked onto the property late last night. His body odor could have knocked out an elephant. He’d had nothing but the clothes on his back, too. Sam had been able to offer him clean socks and underwear, thanks to Skye, but the few bits and pieces of clothing left in the supply room had all been ludicrously big on the skeletal man.

  Which meant that, for the first time since they’d begun attending church services as a group, he would be showing up with a man who truly looked and smelled homeless.

  It shouldn’t bother him. Sam’s job — by his own choice — was to help these men. Today would put the church’s commitment to the test, though. This might end up being the day they asked Samaritan’s Reach not to return.

  Before Sam’s mind wandered too far down that road, the shelter’s phone rang.

  “Samaritan’s Reach. This is Sam.”

  “Hey Sam. Conway Schneider here.”

  “Conway. Good to hear from you. What’s on your mind? Any luck with those shingles?”

  A heavy sigh came across the line. “I found a distributor over in Waschak Falls who’s willing to give us the shingles at cost. It’s not the same as a flat-out donation, but it’s still something. There’s a catch, though.”

  Lead settled in Sam’s stomach. “What’s that?”

  “Whatever the City Council is doing, word’s gotten around. My guy wants to hold the shingles till things are resolved. He doesn’t want to lose potential profit by donating shingles to a business that might be shut down in a few months. He wants to know you’ll be around long enough to use the shingles first.”

  Sam’s hand tightened around the phone. “Makes sense.”

  “I know it’s not what we hoped for, but it’s the best I’ve found so far.”

  “I appreciate it, man. So how’s Ginger doing? Hear from her lately?”

  A smile filled Conway’s voice. “She’s great. Hoping for furlough sometime this summer. Says she’ll even help me do your roofing if the timing works out.”

  “Ginger? Up on a roof?” The girl was tiny. But she was a Marine, too, so if anyone could pound nails on a sun-drenched rooftop, Ginger could.

  “She used to work summers for me before she went into the Corps. It’d be fun to have her on a crew again, and I know she wants to do something to help Samaritan’s Reach.”

  A brief exchange of small talk, and Sam was ready to end the call. One more mention of what the City Council was trying to pull, and… One hand balled into a fist while the other held the phone in a death grip. “I…should go.”

  “No problem. I’ll let you know if anything changes with the singles.”

  “Sure. Thanks. Have a good one.”

  Conway was trying. It wasn’t his fault. The City Council was bent on destroying Samaritan’s Reach, though.

  Did Sam have any chance of stopping them?

  His shoulders slumped as he set the phone down.

  Sam strolled past the picnic table to the gravel strip beyond. The Samaritan’s Reach fifteen-passenger van sat there in all its beat-up, rusted glory. A quick walk-around showed that all the tires still held their air from its last use. That was an encouraging sign.

  He returned to the courtyard and knocked on each door. Then he headed up the stairs to make sure those men were awake and moving as well. They needed to be on the road in twenty minutes if they were going to make it to church on time.

  They didn’t attend Sunday School, but he did try to get the men there in time for the doughnuts and coffee that were served in the foyer ahead of the worship service.

  Men streamed out of their rooms. A few looked like they’d been up for hours. Some looked like they hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Alan’s hair, combed for once, was a nice change.

  And Jack… Wait a second. Clean clothes? If Sam wasn’t mistaken, the pants belonged to Gideon, and the too-large shirt was Rafael’s.

  A smile split Sam’s face. His men did him proud.

  As for the church… One of these days, he was going to show up with a resident sure to clear all the surrounding pews. He needed to stop worrying about it, though, and trust God to be as present there as He was at the shelter.

  The men all crowded around the doughnut table. Whether he had three men with him or the twelve he had at the moment, they easily cleared out two dozen doughnuts. No matter how many his men ate, though, the church always seemed to have another dozen to put on the table. Except for a few months back, when they’d gone two weeks without any doughnuts at all. The sermon both of those weeks had been about gratitude. Had the loss of morning carbs prompted the sermons, or had it been the other way around? The men were all convinced it was the former.

  As the men moved on to the coffee, the pastor sidled up to Sam. “Seems like you’re growing.”

  “God is good.”

  “That He is.” The pastor nodded before fishing a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. “I was asked to give this to you.”

  Sam took it and glanced at the name and phone number written on it.

  Th
e pastor tapped the paper. “Rebecca coordinates the doughnuts each week. She’d like to chat with you.”

  A smile pulled at Sam’s lips. God’s grace never failed to amaze. Here he’d begun the day worrying they might get kicked out of church. “Are my men eating all the doughnuts? Point her out to me, and I’ll go talk to her now.”

  “No can do. Rebecca is eighty-four and laid up with a broken hip that’s not healing as well as the doctor wants. She’s on bed rest till further notice. But I doubt your men are the issue. Rebecca’s not shy about voicing her opinion, but she’s also the first to extend a hand of friendship and grace.”

  Sam stared at the phone. His options for convincing the City Council to keep them open were running out, but an idea had struck while talking to the pastor.

  He took a deep breath, sent a prayer heavenward, and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss Rebecca. My name is Sam Madison, and I’m with Samaritan’s Reach.”

  “Well, hello, young man. How are you doing? Did Pastor Dennis finally give you my number? I’ve been after him for weeks, but he’s forgetful like that.”

  Sam smiled in the empty office. He liked her already. “He did. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to ask you to text me each Saturday and let me know how many men you have. It’ll help me plan doughnuts.”

  “Of course. Not a problem. Tell me, though, how are you able to get the doughnuts if you’re laid up?”

  “I used to buy the doughnuts every Sunday, but when I fell, that all went to pot. Nobody thought to fill in for me. You might have noticed the dry spell there for two weeks. If you ever want to see the senior Sunday school class mutiny, take away their coffee and sweets. You’d have thought the rapture had come and gone and we’d been left behind with all their hollering, bellyaching, and carrying on. So I made some calls and rounded up volunteers to pick up the doughnuts. I just have to tell them how many dozen and make sure they save a coconut one for the pastor. Those are his favorite, and if he doesn’t get his coconut doughnut, his preaching isn’t the same.”

  “I thank you for thinking of my men. It means a lot to them, and to me.”

  “It’s my Christian duty to think of others. Besides, we were all getting a little too set in our ways. Having Samaritan’s Reach come in has shaken up the whole congregation, gotten them to being more thankful for what they have and a little more concerned with doing for others.”

  “Hopefully without too much hollering or bellyaching.”

  Miss Rebecca hooted. “Oh, you’re still wet behind the ears, aren’t you? Either a babe in the faith or too young to grow your own whiskers. Which is it?”

  Sam tugged on his goatee. He’d been going to New Hope for a while now, but his focus had always been on the men. He’d probably met Miss Rebecca before and just didn’t remember. In a church as small as theirs, though, surely she knew who he was. “Young in the faith, I suppose, at least compared to you by the sound of it.”

  “Let me tell you something, Sam Madison. I was a pastor’s wife for forty years before my Charles went home to be with the Lord, and if there’s one thing I learned during that time, it’s that people like to bellyache. They complain when summer gets hot and when winter gets cold. They complain when the church shrinks, and they complain when it grows. But most of all, they complain when God is growing them. Because, let’s face it, sometimes those growing pains hurt. I expect your attendance has led to a fair amount of grousing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing for all of us.”

  Sam leaned a hip against the wall, his spirit settling. “I have a proposition for you, Miss Rebecca.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “You missed church yesterday.”

  Skye blinked at Tawny. “Nobody told me it was a requirement.”

  “It’s not. You know that. It sure would be nice to see you there, though.”

  Skye shrugged and stepped back to let Tawny enter. “I was busy.”

  Tawny clapped her hands together, something she did whenever she was trying to convince people to agree with her. “I have a fantastic plan for today, but you need to get dressed in something serviceable. Nothing that requires dry-cleaning and nothing you won’t mind getting ruined. Just in case.”

  “Just in case what? What are you planning that’s going to ruin my wardrobe?”

  Tawny gave her a wide grin. “It’s a surprise. You’re going to love it, though. I promise.”

  Skye glanced at her laptop. She’d been in the middle of composing an email to her board of directors. It wasn’t urgent, though. Things were going fine without her. Like she’d told her assistant, the place practically ran itself.

  Guilt might have wanted to tug at her, but she shushed it with a quick text to Charlotte. Away from computer rest of today. Text if anything comes up.

  She tromped to her bedroom in search of something that didn’t require dry cleaning.

  “When are you going to buy a dresser?”

  Skye turned. Tawny stood in the doorway. “I don’t remember asking you to follow me.”

  Tawny winked at her. “You sent me a telepathic message and asked me to check out the rest of your place. Don’t you remember?”

  “Um. No. I’m fairly certain I’d remember that.”

  Her friend’s eyes swiveled across the unmade bed, scattered clothes falling out of multiple suitcases, and a closet packed with plastic-wrapped outfits. “So, are you planning on sticking around? Because this looks like you’re prepared to make a quick getaway.”

  Skye wrenched a pair of jeans from one suitcase. “I’m settling in.”

  “People who are settling in usually have a dresser. Or a couch.”

  Skye avoided Tawny’s probing eyes and dug for socks in another suitcase.

  “When you left the last time, you didn’t have much of a choice. We all understood.” Tawny’s voice was void of its usual chirp and bluster. “If you leave again, though, it’ll be your choice.”

  Skye frowned and searched for her favorite flannel shirt. It was worn too thin to be warm, and she mostly slept in it these days, but the shirt was still good enough for whatever Tawny had in mind. As long as it wasn’t yard work.

  Hm. Maybe a t-shirt underneath would be a good idea.

  “Promise me you won’t disappear without a trace. Promise I’ll be able to check on you from time to time and make sure you’re well.”

  Skye clutched her clothes, her chest burning from the inside out. “I promise.”

  Tawny’s brown eyes brightened, and her smile returned. “Now that that’s settled, you can get dressed. We leave in five minutes.”

  Tawny didn’t bother with the front door of her own home. She went around to the side and threw open oversized French doors. “Welcome to my kingdom.”

  Skye entered into the industrial kitchen built into a home whose outside resembled a beachfront bungalow. “I’m still stunned by your house. It’s quaint on the outside and then — boom — a kitchen bigger than the old high school cafeteria’s.”

  Her friend grinned at her. “Yeah, well. Got to make my soap somewhere.”

  Skye followed as Tawny unlocked a room she hadn’t noticed before right off the kitchen. Clear plastic bins stacked floor-to-ceiling filled the space. Each was labeled with a different product name and scent.

  Lotion – Grapefruit

  Lotion – Honey Verbena

  Liquid Soap – Peppermint

  Liquid Soap – Cinnamon

  Sugar Scrub, Salt Scrub, Bar Soap…

  The totes went on forever.

  Skye picked her jaw up off the floor. “That’s a lot of stuff.”

  “I get orders of all different sizes. Sometimes someone orders one of three different kinds of soap. It’s not very time-effective to make a whole batch just to sell the one bar. So I keep a stock on-hand for most of what I sell.”

  “It’s all so organized. I never would have thought…”

  Tawny stuck her hands on her hips. “No
w listen here. Liking nature does not make me a flake. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to put chemicals in or on my body.”

  Where had that come from? “Is that what people think?”

  Tawny shrugged. “Small-town Montana.”

  “Rainbow Falls isn’t that small anymore.”

  Tawny pulled Skye back into the kitchen. “True. Old attitudes are hard to change, though. If you don’t support the logging industry, they call you a granola. If you aren’t ready to wrestle a bull to the ground with your bare hands, you’re a…”

  Skye flicked the end of Tawny’s braid. “That just makes you an entrepreneur with eclectic taste in friends.”

  “I suppose…”

  “But you have to admit. You’re not the most organized person in the world. I’ve seen your refrigerator. And your sock drawer — the one that’s full of hair ties.”

  Laughter lit Tawny’s eyes from within. “All my organizational molecules are invested in my business. The rest of my life is a mess by comparison.”

  Skye surveyed the kitchen until a corkboard snagged her attention. “Nature Loves You. Is that the name of your business?”

  Pink colored Tawny’s cheeks as she dipped her chin before turning to the massive island in the center of her kitchen. “Today I’m teaching you how to make liquid laundry soap.”

  “You said that to me the day you found me at Rainbow Heights. I just thought you were being Tawny.”

  “What? You think I go around walking up to people and telling them that nature loves them? I might be offended if that weren’t so stinking funny.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. “That was a pun, wasn’t it? Stinking?”

  Tawny chuckled. “Nah. That was on accident, but I’ll have to remember it for future use.”

  “That corkboard wasn’t here when I stayed at your house. I’d have noticed it.”