Skye

by Heather Gray

  “I might not have had it up yet. It’s supposed to help keep me inspired and organized. Instead, it collects odds and ends of information. To the point of clutter.”

  Skye snorted. “I can’t believe I thought you were telling me that nature loved me.”

  “See? Small-town Montana. You probably thought, ‘What a granola.’”

  What was Skye going to do with her? She shook her head. “So… laundry soap. Whatever for? And how on earth?”

  “Samaritan’s Reach needs help, and laundry soap is simple enough to make. Cheap, too, as long as we don’t try to hide the soap smell with some frilly scent.”

  “I can barely brew coffee. I’m not sure you want to set me loose in your kitchen.”

  “I don’t set anybody loose in my kitchen. You’ll be closely supervised the entire time.”

  Skye rolled up her sleeves. “It’s a good thing you had me change clothes.”

  Tawny placed a couple of large boxes of white powder on the island and several bars of some sort of soap. She started pointing to different things and ordering Skye around. “Get the tall pot from over there… Put that water on to boil… Measure out eight cups of each powder… Chop the bar soap.”

  Two hours later, Skye wiped the sweat from her brow as Tawny handed her a tiny white plastic scoop. “What’s this for?”

  “That’s how much soap you use in each load.”

  Skye looked at the buckets on the kitchen floor and sputtered. “But we made enough for like a thousand loads. How am I supposed to lug this stuff over to the shelter?”

  “Hm. You might have a point. I didn’t think of putting it into smaller containers. I just multiplied the recipe by ten and got something big enough to hold the finished product.” Tawny snapped her fingers. “Never fear! I have exactly what we need.”

  A couple minutes later, Tawny rolled a dolly into the kitchen. “This should do the trick.”

  The ladies manhandled a bucket onto the dolly. They ran into a small problem, though. The dolly was designed to hold something square or rectangular, and the bucket was round. Every time they tried to move forward, the bucket rolled from side to side.

  It was Skye’s turn to put her hands on her hips. “Unless we come up with a better solution, our hard work is going to end up all over your kitchen floor. Maybe your driveway, if we can get it that far.”

  “Somebody needs to invent a rounded dolly, don’t you think? There’d be money in that for sure.”

  Skye shook her head. “Not my department. Maybe… Um… They make these stretchy doohickeys. Like rubber bands but with hooks on the end. People use them to secure things or hold them down. I think.”

  Tawny ran from the room and rushed back in seconds later, holding up the items in question. “These?”

  “Yes. What’re they called?”

  “Bungee cords. They’re perfect for the job.”

  With both five-gallon buckets loaded into the trunk of Tawny’s electric car, the friends climbed into their seats and headed down the road.

  They came to a stop sign and Tawny peered over at Skye. “How are we going to haul them up that driveway?”

  Skye burst into laughter, the kind of spontaneous laughter that surprised the one doing the laughing. She laughed until tears collected in the corners of her eyes. “We’re never going to be able to lift these buckets out of the trunk, let alone up the drive. One attempt, and we’ll drop them, the lids will come off, and soap will go flying everywhere. With my luck, I’ll have my mouth open when it happens.”

  Tawny laughed with her. “We’ll slip in it and fall, and every time we try to get up, we’ll go splat all over again.”

  “What did you get me into?”

  Tawny made a left turn onto the old highway that headed out to Samaritan’s Reach. “Like I said, my ability to organize and think ends with Nature Loves You. Had this been a business order, I’d have thought through the whole packaging thing better. You’re buying me an iced coffee, by the way. After all this, you owe me.”

  “I owe you? I would have been perfectly happy getting already-made soap from the store. In normal-sized containers, too. You’re the one who forced us to make giant-sized tubs of soap that guarantee we’ll be bathed in the stuff when we try to unload it.”

  They were still laughing as they pulled into the drive-thru at the Coffee Barn.

  Two lattes and the latest scoop on an orienteering outfit moving into town, and they were back onto the highway. Tawny threw a smile at Skye. “It makes my heart happy to hear you laugh like that. I’ve missed the sound of it.”

  Skye took a sip of her drink. “I think I’ve missed it, too.”

  “If you ever want to talk, you know I’m here, right?”

  “I’m not much of a talker.”

  Tawny nodded. “Still, the offer’s there.”

  Skye reached a hand over and brushed it against Tawny’s arm. “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

  They pulled up to the curb in front of the shelter.

  Tawny opened the trunk, and the two women stared at the buckets of soap. They both looked over to the steep driveway they would need to hike.

  Skye tapped her toe. “I’m beginning to understand how Sam bought the motel for such a low price.”

  “Oh? How much?”

  “I don’t know, but it had to be cheap. The driveway alone has probably been scaring away buyers for years.”

  “Try decades.” Tawny leaned into the trunk and started maneuvering the unwieldy buckets. She managed to lift the edge of one bucket so it partially rested on the lip of the trunk’s opening.

  Skye should probably do something to help…

  A yell from the direction of Samaritan’s Reach sent her nerves into jangle overdrive.

  Alan jogged down the incline from the motel. What had he said? Had there been words, or had it been an inarticulate, angry shout? Skye backed away from Alan and pulled closer to Tawny, who was trying to climb into the trunk.

  A line-dancing ten-step polka took up residence in Skye’s belly as Alan came to a stop about fifteen feet away. She wasn’t alone this time, and wasn’t afraid. Okay. So the last part was a lie, but she wouldn’t let the fear win. “Wh-what did you say?”

  Alan didn’t move any closer. “I was just sayin’, you can’t be movin’ that on your own. Let me help. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want y’ gettin’ hurt.”

  “Oh.” He was being cordial. How was she supposed to respond to that?

  “’Sides, if you’re hurt movin’ it ’cause I didn’t help, I’ll prob’ly get kicked outta here.”

  Tawny, apparently a contortionist in her spare time, hopped down from the trunk to the asphalt.

  Skye took a deep breath and stepped onto the sidewalk so she no longer stood between Alan and the car. Her stomach settled to a quiver, and her nerves calmed to a slow rev.

  Alan reached into the trunk, pulled a bucket up and out, and deposited it on the sidewalk next to Skye. Then he grabbed the other one with a grunt, his attention on Tawny. “What’s in these things, anyway?”

  Without a blink or a hint of fear, Tawny smiled. “Laundry soap.”

  “In buckets from the hardware store? What kind of laundry soap do they sell?”

  Tawny ignored the question, popped the trunk closed, and hooked her arm through Skye’s. “Lead the way, good sir.”

  Alan picked up one bucket in each hand, grunted again, and started the climb.

  His back was to them, but that didn’t stop Tawny from calling after him. “You ever yell at my friend again like you did when you charged my car, and getting kicked out of here will be the least of your problems.”

  Alan halted and swiveled his head around in their direction.

  If he were to drop a bucket, it would roll back down the hill and flatten Skye and Tawny in the process.

  He didn’t drop one, though. His gaze flicked back and forth between the two women. He gave Tawny a hard look before turning to Skye. �
�I was plannin’ to say this after I got to the top and set the buckets down, but I’m sorry about the other day. Genuinely, not just because I’m being forced to say so. I got…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I have some issues, and sometimes things set me off, and I can’t always explain what the trigger is. It’s kind of like… It’s kind of like that tunnel vision you talked about.”

  Tunnel vision? He’d overheard her conversation with Sam.

  They were still a fair distance from him, but Skye took a second to look at Alan. There was something in his eyes that she’d missed the last time. His anger had clouded her ability to see anything beyond her own fear. Today, though, his eyes weren’t angry. They were sad, a little embarrassed, and…broken. It was a bit like looking in a mirror. “Do you have a last name, Alan?”

  He turned back toward Samaritan’s Reach and resumed his slow trek, but he called back over his shoulder, “Just Alan.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Hey, Boss!”

  Sam was in the middle of helping newcomer Jack fill out some paperwork when Alan’s yell reached him.

  His most cantankerous resident stood outside the office’s glass door with two giant orange buckets at his feet, Skye and Tawny behind him. “Jack, I need to go take care of something. Do you want to finish this together later or do it on your own?”

  Jack grunted with his usual lack of cheer. “Don’t matter to me.”

  The paperwork, if completed correctly, would garner Jack some financial assistance to help him out while he continued his life skills classes and worked on getting a job.

  Sam opened the top drawer of his desk and slid the paperwork into it. “We’ll do it later.” He followed Jack out of the office and locked the door behind him. “What’s in the buckets?”

  Alan scowled. “Laundry soap. Heavy laundry soap.”

  “From the hardware store?”

  Tawny gave an exasperated huff. “Looky here, people. We made it. It’s homemade soap. You have enough for twenty-five hundred loads of wash, it’s better for the environment, and the buckets are reusable. Keep them, and we might be nice enough to fill them up again. Oh, and it smells clean in case you care. So get over yourselves and put the soap in the laundry room.”

  Skye stared at her friend.

  Tawny, usually a laid-back person, shrugged. “I’m annoyed that so many people are questioning my intentions.”

  Sam nodded to Alan. “You heard the woman. Laundry room.”

  As Alan sighed and picked up the heavy buckets again, Sam gave the women his full attention. “I didn’t properly thank you for the items you brought last time. They were much-needed.”

  Color climbed Skye’s cheeks. Huh. So she didn’t want to talk about men’s underwear. Understandable, but still funny.

  Sam tucked his hands into his pockets. “I have coffee in the office, if you’d like.”

  “No, thanks. We should head out.” Skye started tugging her friend back toward the downward-sloping entrance, her eyes glued to his tattoos much the same way they’d been last time before he’d donned a long-sleeved shirt.

  Tawny pulled free. “Skye is looking for somewhere to volunteer. How are Tuesdays and Thursdays for you?”

  Sam wasn’t sure who was more surprised — him or Skye. “Those days work just fine. Today’s Monday. Does this mean I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Skye, eyes wide, shook her head. No.

  Tawny nodded. “She’ll be here at eight in the morning. You probably need help on Sundays, too. She can come in then, too.”

  He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Skye’s eyes widened even further.

  “Sundays are fine. I could use an extra pair of eyes when I take the men to church. I’ve never had any problems, but we’re starting to grow. Safe is better than sorry.”

  “Good, then. Anything else she should know?”

  Tawny stood, the picture of feigned innocence, while Skye looked like she was still working up the nerve to spit nails.

  Sam pulled on his goatee. “I have my quiet time at eight in the morning here in the office. I wrap up around half past.” He directed his next words to Skye. “You’re welcome to come then, just know I won’t be the most talkative, and don’t take it personally.”

  Skye nodded, her eyes still wide, before following the exiting Tawny back down the slope to her eco-friendly car.

  “Uh, Boss?”

  Sam’s gaze remained with the departing women. “What do you need, Alan?”

  “I might have scared Miss Skye again.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “The brown-haired one was trying to finagle those buckets out of the trunk, and I ran down to stop her. I wanted to offer to help, but Miss Skye… She, uh… She saw me running toward her and got all panicky looking.”

  Hm. Something had happened, and Alan was telling him of his own free will. Sam decided to enjoy the victory and let tomorrow worry about itself. “How did you handle it?”

  “I stopped a ways off as soon as I saw the look on her face. Then I just talked and explained what I was doing. I also told her I was sorry about the last time, but the other lady told me if I ever yelled at Miss Skye again, I’d have bigger problems than you.”

  Sam chuckled. “Her name’s Miss Tawny, and I think her super power is mind control. She gets people to do what she wants without any bloodshed.”

  Worry still creased Alan’s brow. “I can’t afford to get kicked out of here.”

  Progress. It was satisfying.

  Sam clapped a hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Thanks for letting me know what happened. I’m sure everything’s fine, but if for any reason it’s not, I’ll give you a fair chance to explain yourself.”

  Alan nodded before ambling away toward his room.

  Sam was up before the rooster. The roosters two time zones to the east weren’t even crowing yet. His tossing and turning through the night had mocked his decision to let the next day worry about itself.

  Today was Tuesday.

  Skye was supposed to arrive at eight-thirty, but would she? Tawny had volunteered her, and Skye had stood by and let her. Most people would have told their friend to butt out, but not Skye. Her aversion to confrontation ran deep.

  Either that, or she actually wanted to be at Samaritan’s Reach.

  Long before eight o’clock, Sam stepped into the office. The space always felt small, but part of the problem was its current state – messy beyond messy. Papers and boxes covered every surface — and most of the floor — with their scattered mess. Little room remained for Sam to fit his long legs and broad shoulders.

  Somewhere in the chaos were the forms he would need Skye to fill out. She had to be vetted, references checked and all the rest, just like any other volunteer.

  Once he found the right papers — in a box labeled Miscellaneous — Sam settled down at the desk and pulled out his Bible.

  He was ten minutes into his reading when someone knocked at the glass door out front. Skye held two steaming cups, a much larger purse than he’d ever seen her with before, and a look that said she was ready to run.

  Sam flipped the deadbolt on the door and held it open for her.

  “I brought you coffee.” She offered him one of the cups.

  He hated to do it, but… “I don’t drink coffee, but I’m sure one of the men will appreciate it.”

  “But you make coffee. You offered us coffee yesterday.”

  “I make it for the men. Some of them have coffee running through their veins.” He pointed toward the back office. “I’m still having my quiet time, but make yourself at home.”

  He opened the vertical blinds on the window to his back before retaking his seat and staring at the Bible page he’d been reading just moments before. Sam had a dozen reasons for not putting his quiet time aside to welcome Skye, but they all tasted like sawdust in his mouth. The rules were in place for a reason, though, as much for the men as for him. He needed to protect Skye, too.

  Whether she realized it or not, she
was fragile, and if he didn’t keep his distance, he’d spook her.

  Sam could feel her eyes on him as he stared at the same page in his Bible. His concentration had abandoned him with her first knock, so he closed his eyes instead.

  Father, be with the shelter today. Give me wisdom. Guide the men. Bring us more volunteers. And be with Skye. Give her courage.

  Courage. Where had that come from? He hadn’t intended to pray that, but the petition was there anyway. Sometimes God gave him words when he prayed and revealed things to him he wouldn’t have otherwise noticed.

  Skye struggled with fear. He’d have to be blind to miss that.

  The way she’d hid behind the motel to throw up because Alan had yelled at her was just one of the many things that had tipped him off. She’d come back, though, and that showed courage. After all, fear and courage weren’t mutually exclusive. Courage was about marching ahead despite the fear.

  Hm. He needed to think about that one some more, talk it over with God again when he had more time.

  Sam closed his Bible, pushed it to the side of his desk, and looked to where Skye sat in the small foyer of the office.

  “Do you drink anything with caffeine?” Her eyes widened as she clapped a hand over her mouth.

  CHAPTER 15

  Do you drink anything with caffeine?

  Skye reached forward with her empty hand as though she could catch and retrieve the words.

  She should have asked what he was studying. Or what he’d learned during his time with God. At a minimum, her words shouldn’t have come out sounding as though she thought he was the slime on the bottom of the scum underneath a rusted, leaky sewer pipe.

  Sam sat back in his chair and laughed. The sound pushed out from him until it filled every crevice of the office.

  The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes came readily, and his laughter was full-throated and came from his core. Somehow those things worked together to make him less intimidating, a little less fierce.

  Her lips twitched as she hid behind her coffee.

  Sam’s laughter quieted to a rumble in his voice. “Too much caffeine makes me jittery. I love coffee. Cream, no sugar. Feel free to bring me a cup anytime, as long as it’s decaf.”