by Heather Gray
“The restrooms are over there, Miss Skye. There’s a drinking fountain, too.”
Sam stood back and observed as his men herded Skye through the doughnut and coffee lines. She’d gotten a little bit of that deer-in-the-headlights look as he’d pulled into the parking lot. She never had anything to say when he mentioned God, but if the expression on her face had been any indication, church wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be on Sunday morning.
“Running a co-ed facility now?” Pastor Dennis Diangelo shook Sam’s hand.
Sam took a draw on the now-cool decaf coffee Skye had brought him. “She’s a volunteer.”
“She volunteered to help you at church?”
“Let’s say she got volunteered, and she’s too much of a lady to back out.”
Pastor Dennis chuckled. “Must be some friend if she didn’t feel she could back out.”
“Tawny. Her friend’s name is Tawny.”
The pastor let out a soft whistle. “My kid brother got volunteered to run for class president his freshman year in high school. Lost by a landslide, too. Thank you, Tawny Brown. She was on a tear about social inequality, and my brother took one look in her eyes and forgot how to say no.”
“Sounds about right, except I doubt it was her eyes that convinced Skye.”
Pastor Dennis sucked in a sudden breath. “Wait a second. If her name’s Skye, and she’s a friend of Tawny’s…”
The incomplete question had a dangerous feel to it, sharp and jagged somehow.
The pastor’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Is that Skye Blue?”
Sam nodded, trying to gauge the man’s bizarre reaction.
Pastor Dennis excused himself and headed toward the office rather than the sanctuary. Sam stared after him for a minute before Skye’s voice reached him. “We’re ready to go in, Sam. Are you joining us?”
Sam’s attention was equally split between the pastor and Skye.
“…boldness as we approach those who are different than us.”
Her brow wrinkled.
“…tempered with compassion and love…”
She bit her bottom lip.
“…about grace…”
She frowned.
“…and in joy…”
She glanced down.
“…we’re all called…”
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Sam closed his eyes. He needed to focus. He led the Monday Bible study each week, and it was supposed to be a follow-up to the sermon so he could answer any questions the men had. At this rate, the answer to every single one of their questions was going to be, “Skye.”
CHAPTER 19
Skye sat in the sanctuary of a small church. Several Samaritan’s Reach residents were in the pew with her. Sam sat in the pew behind, with the rest of the residents.
The men were all bathed and in their Sunday best. Their clothes were decent enough. Not fantastic, but not worn-through. Their shoes, on the other hand, were a real problem. Some had holes big enough to see through. On the bright side, she could see the shiny white brand-new socks they wore.
Skye hid a smile as she stood with the rest of the congregation for the first song. Some of the men were clearly more comfortable in church than others. A few of the ones in her pew kept casting furtive glances her way. They seemed to be watching her so they’d know when to stand, sit, or pick up the hymnal.
That was okay.
Church was familiar.
It was like an old pair of jeans discovered in the back of her closet, worn so often that the denim was soft. When she pulled those old favorite pants on, one of two things happened. Either they fit perfectly, and she let out a sigh of joy at the way they welcomed her body back like a blue cotton hug. Or they were uncomfortably tight and made her wish she’d never found them because they’d once been her favorite and could no longer be worn at all.
Skye stood again, this time for the closing song. Church was familiar, like it fit well, but it pinched, too. Why? Her breathing came faster, and her heart started to rev up for a full-on race.
Everyone began to exit, but Skye cut around the line and skipped the whole hand-shaking thing. She just couldn’t do it. Not today. Maybe next Sunday. Or she could just volunteer Tuesday and Thursday.
“Hey, Miss Skye, what’s the rush?”
She slowed her escape to the van, allowing Gideon to catch up. “No rush. I think I got a cramp from sitting so long.”
Harumph. “And I’m a twenty-year-old swimsuit model. You lit out of there like you were being chased by a spider.”
“No spider. It’s just been a while since I’ve been in church.”
“Was it like you remember?”
“Yes and no.”
“Which is yes, and which is no?”
He wasn’t going to let it go, was he? “The music was familiar, and the routine of it all. But my friends weren’t there, and the world’s not as simple to me anymore.”
They’d reached the van, and Gideon stood with her and watched the other men approach. “I get the feeling your world was never simple.”
Skye shot him a back-off-and-don’t-pry glare, but he gazed off into the distance. Had his words even been intended for her?
They returned to Samaritan’s Reach, and Skye wandered toward the office.
Sam’s question stalled her. “You gonna stick around or head home?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought I’d do my regular time. Why?”
“Baxter will be by in about fifteen minutes to go with some of the men to the flea market. The rest of us are going to have lunch. Why don’t you join us? The mess in the office will still be there when you’re done.”
Alan, who had been heading toward the room they’d converted to a kitchen, halted his steps. “Jack and I are cooking today. He cooks better’n he paints.”
Half the men had stopped and trained their eyes on her.
She hadn’t eaten with them yet, unless you counted that morning’s doughnut. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.”
Jack had already headed into the kitchen, but Alan gave her a smile and tilted an imaginary hat to her. “Sure thing, Miss Skye. We did the prep work this morning, so the meal should be done in about twenty minutes.”
The rest of the men wandered over to where the picnic table sat in the back corner. They needed another table. Or a whole row of them. Funds, though.
Skye still had so many questions about Samaritan’s Reach and how they functioned. “What’s at the flea market?”
Sam pulled on his goatee. “People donate things to us now and then. We keep a table at the flea market each weekend to sell those things. The men work the table on a rotating basis. It’s a good experience for them.”
A flea market in Rainbow Falls wasn’t exactly prime real estate. It wouldn’t bring in much in the way of funds. “After I’m finished going through all those boxes, I should look into doing some fundraising for you.”
Sam leaned against one of the painted metal poles that held up the built-in canopy that kept the motel room doors in the shade. “I was hoping you’d untangle my books for me.”
“How badly tangled are they?”
He let out a weary sigh. “The software I use got some sort of upgrade patch about six months ago, and I haven’t been able to get anything to balance since. I’ve looked and looked for the problem, but it’s hiding.”
“Is the software installed on the computer or in the cloud?”
“Cloud, I guess. I pay a monthly fee for access. It synchs with the bank and is supposed to make all my accounting headaches go away.”
“How long have you been using it?”
“Since we opened. It’s only been the past six months that it’s been a problem. I should call their tech support, but I haven’t been able to cut enough time out of the day to sit in the office on hold.”
“What on earth is all this stuff for?” Covered in dust, Skye stood in the middle of the office and pointed at a pile of boxes in the foyer.
Tuesday afternoon was upon them. She was over tidying the office the way a teenage girl was over the previous year’s boy band or the previous week’s hair style. If she never saw it again, she’d live a happy life. Had she realized how all-consuming the mess had become, she might not have volunteered so readily. “Yeah, but you can store these forms on the computer and print them when the need arises. You don’t have to keep all these hard copies.”
“Are you volunteering to run the office?”
“No, but I’m willing to work in it when I’m here, and I’m willing to upload all the documents into an orderly, virtual filing cabinet so you can easily find them.”
Sam stared at the boxes. “What happens if I end up hiring another admin, and she wants hard copies of everything?”
“She can print them from the computer files?”
“Paper and ink that I don’t want to have to pay for again.”
She’d gone through and sorted everything. The shelves in the office were full. These five extra boxes needed to find another home. “You either let me toss them in the recycling, or you provide me another room in which to store them.”
Sam cringed. “Recycling it is.”
Skye opened the foyer door. All the men stood in some weird position out in the courtyard. She let the door fall closed but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight. Men of all shapes, sizes, and ages squatted as though sitting on an invisible chair with knees bent at a ninety degree angle while holding their arms out straight in front of them. It was almost familiar. “Um… Are they doing yoga?”
He answered without looking at her. “Probably.”
“Seriously? Yoga?”
“We offer yoga and aikido on a rotating schedule. The men have to participate in at least two exercise classes each week. The yoga was a bit of a fluke. I didn’t think any of the men would be interested.”
“What’s aikido?”
“A form of martial arts. I’ve adjusted it to fit our demographic here. At its heart, though, aikido is about learning to defend yourself without harming your attacker.”
What a novel concept. “But wouldn’t most people want to harm their attacker?”
“Disable, yes. Harm? I hope the aikido teaches them a different approach.”
“Do they spar? Is that even a good idea? You’ve said it yourself. Some of these men have PTSD.”
Sam glanced up from his paperwork. “Like I said, I’ve adjusted it for our demographic. We don’t use weapons. No sparring outside of class. And even in class, sparring is rare. We focus on the tenets that teach self-control and discipline.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought it through.”
He grinned. “That’s why I earn the big bucks.”
The men moved into what she was pretty sure was a variation on the warrior pose. “I should probably wait till they’re done.”
“Nah. Go for it. Not everyone’s doing yoga. Someone will answer the call.”
Skye took a deep breath and opened the foyer door again. “Anyone want to volunteer to haul some boxes for me?”
Rafael and Matt, who’d been watching the yoga class but not participating, jogged over. “Sure thing, Miss Skye. Which ones and where to?”
She pointed to the boxes. “The recycling bin, please.”
It took the men a couple of trips, but the foyer carpet was soon visible in all its worn, threadbare glory.
Triumph!
“Wipe that silly grin off your face. Now you can start looking at the accounting.” Sam’s voice held laughter.
Skye spun from the foyer to the inner office. “Bring it on.”
Sam glanced at his phone. “You only have an hour left. Are you sure that’s enough time?”
“I’ll familiarize myself with the software. It’ll be fine.” On those words, she slipped through the half-door into the now-tidy inner sanctum. “Write down any passwords I’ll need.”
“You know I’d rather you memorize it.”
“And I will, but I memorize a lot better if I can look at it.”
Sam scribbled a string of characters onto a piece of scratch paper. He handed it to her as the foyer door opened again.
CHAPTER 20
July
“Hey Boss. Jack said you need me.” Gideon leaned on the counter between the foyer and office.
Sam didn’t get a chance to talk to him, though, before a man in a brown suit came through the door behind him. “I’m here to see Sam Madison.”
Sam nodded. “That’s me. How can I help you?”
“I’m with the county’s Building and Code Enforcement Office. I’ve been looking over your property here, and I’m going to have to cite you for a couple of violations. I need you to sign here, and I can be on my way.” The man shoved a clipboard toward Sam.
Sam took it and glanced over the paper it held. He narrowed his eyes as he lifted them back up at the man in the suit. “Deplorable living conditions?”
The man tugged at his tie and swallowed. “Have you seen your roof? That’s only the start of the problem.”
“What happens if I refuse to sign this?”
The man cleared his throat. “You sign it, you’re given a hundred and twenty days to appeal or make repairs. You refuse to sign, and I can come back here with the police and shut you down now.”
Heat simmered under his skin as Sam grabbed a pen off the counter and scribbled his name on the paper. “I get a copy, right?”
The man separated the carbon copies from the top form and gave Sam the pink and yellow copies without making eye contact. “I’ll be on my way now…”
The words hung in the air as the door soundlessly closed in the wake of his exit.
Sam pulled in a lungful of oxygen before setting the pink copy on his desk. He folded the yellow one and slipped it into his back pocket.
He gulped down another expansive breath and released it slowly.
“I can come back later if you need me to, Boss.”
Sam focused on Gideon for a second before the fog cleared and he could think again. He reached back to the desk and grabbed a blue piece of scratch paper off the top and slid it across the counter.
Gideon read over it, and his eyes grew wide. “This is current?”
“As best as I can tell.”
“How’d you find it?”
Sam hooked a thumb in the direction of the computer. “The internet. Public record searches. It took a little while, but I think that’s it.”
Gideon ran a finger across the paper. “This says she lives not too far from here. She used to live in Washington. What happened?”
“I can’t tell you anything more than what I wrote down. Anything you want to know, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”
Gideon pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Any way I can get a ride over to see her? Maybe that’s better than calling?”
Skye, who had been studying the computer screen in silence, caught Sam’s eye and mouthed, “Can I help?”
He looked over at Gideon before turning back to Skye and taking the two steps over to the desk. He squatted down to her eye level. “Gideon hasn’t seen his sister in a long time. We found her, and she’s over in Waschak Falls. He’d like to go, but I’m needed here today since Lance called in sick.”
“I can give him a ride. Or I can keep watch on the guys while you’re gone.”
Sam pressed his lips together. He should be there for Gideon. But leave Skye alone with the men? He’d left before when she’d been on-site, but another volunteer or staffer had always been around somewhere.
“I can handle it. Give me a chance. Besides, I can’t really give him a ride anyway, right? Female volunteers aren’t allowed to be alone with a resident.”
The rules were starting to get under his skin. Even if they were good ones to have. “Alan…”
“Alan and I get along fine these days, but if he goes off the
rails, I have this now.” She opened the desk drawer and showed him the air horn she’d brought in with her that morning.
Sam winced. “Careful. That might do more harm than good.”
“Oh.” Color tinged her cheeks. “I didn’t think of that. Would a whistle have been better?”
Higher pitched, a reminder of high school gym more than war… “Maybe. It’s hard to know. Everybody has their own issues, you know?”
Skye gave a decisive nod and reached for her phone. “I can download a whistle app. Or something. Maybe Alan can help me figure out the best sound.”
Sam rose with a chuckle. She’d come a long way in such a short time. Samaritan’s Reach would be in good hands. “I guess that’s that, Gideon. Meet me at my car in thirty minutes, and we’ll head out.”
Gideon, eyes rounder than his spectacles, dropped his mouth to half-mast. “Really?”
Sam gave a single nod. “Go, before Skye changes her mind about running the place.”
“Think Miss Skye will do okay without you? She’s a little skittish sometimes.”
Sam kept his eyes on the road. “She is, but I think she’s stronger than any of us realize. Including her.”
“She reminds me of one of us.”
“Me, too, but I don’t think she’d appreciate the comparison.”
Gideon chuckled. “I don’t mean the old, ugly, and homeless part. But the battle scars? Yeah.”
The corner of Sam’s mouth tried to pull upward. “Speak for yourself. I’m pretty sure Alan is younger than all of us.”
“You might be right about that one. I’m not even sure he’s thirty yet. It’s hard to see someone so young be so damaged.”
“Like you said, we all have our battle scars. We just wear them differently.”
Gideon hooked a thumb around his seatbelt. “We’re almost there, aren’t we?”
“It’s only twenty miles from the shelter. You won’t even have time to change your mind.”
Gideon sank a bit into his seat as they crossed into the Waschak Falls city limits.
A couple of GPS-directed turns later, and Sam pulled up in front of a house. “What if nobody’s home?”