by Mae Nunn
“Could I speak with you for a moment in my office?” She turned and strode toward her cubicle, expecting Heath to follow.
“What is going on with you?” She flew hot the moment he stepped into her workspace. “First you’re hiding out, then you’re all up in my business, next you’re leaving and now you’re staying. Not only that, you’re trying to run off what little help we have.”
“I don’t think I like that guy.”
“I don’t care what you think!”
“Well, you should. He looks suspicious and I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could drop-kick him.”
Olivia huffed out a breath at the judgmental comment.
“Dick’s a homeless man who’s willing to work in exchange for a place to sleep tonight. In case you’ve forgotten, Heath, this is a shelter and I don’t turn people away because of how they look, or whether or not they seem trustworthy. I let you in, didn’t I?” The wisecrack slipped out, surprising even Olivia.
Heath grabbed the stapler from her desk and held it like a microphone to his mouth. “Sarcastic party of one, your table is ready.”
Olivia spit out a grin. She’d come to enjoy his edgy humor. Even so, he had no right to be critical of her clients. He folded his arms, evidently waiting for the lecture he knew he had coming.
“Look, Dick was a good sport when the other guys were sick and you needed somebody to help you clean up the mess. I’m asking you to give him the benefit of the doubt and just appreciate his servant’s heart.”
Heath became interested in the pattern of the area rug. He nodded while he muttered something she couldn’t understand, which was probably just as well.
“I’ll take that as a sign of agreement.”
His gaze wandered up to meet hers, his eyes staring, questioning. “I don’t know what to take as a sign anymore.”
Olivia stepped closer, nearly toe-to-toe with Heath. She raised her hand, rested her palm along his jaw and studied the face that had begun to appear in her dreams and daydreams.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For changing things between us, for making you uncomfortable, for saying something I should have kept to myself.”
“But it’s the truth, right?” he asked quietly.
“I’ve tried to be as honest with you as you’ve been with me.”
Heath turned his face toward her hand, pressed his mouth to her palm and let his lips linger there for a moment. She felt the depth of his warm sigh against her fingertips. Then he took a step back as if he were creating a chasm between them.
“It’s good of you to stay through the holiday,” she thanked him. “I appreciate it.” What more could she say?
Heath seemed uncomfortable with her gratitude and let his attention shift to the window. He stepped closer, breathed against the glass and touched the foggy spot that appeared.
“With this ice storm passing across the state, it’s a good thing you’re opening the doors again tomorrow. The forecast says it’s going to be the worst Thanksgiving cold spell on record.”
“Well, let’s pray the weatherman is wrong.”
“Why’s that?” Heath turned to face her.
“Because when it freezes in a place like Waco, where we’re not used to such cold, people on the street die.”
Heath hoped Olivia’s comment wasn’t a premonition. A drug bust could be deadly business. If things went according to plan, they’d be drawing the pill pushers to a new location on the very night the freeze was supposed to hit the lowest temps. Who knew if the bait Amos had thrown into uncertain waters would get a bite right away. But if Heath’s suspicions were correct, the sellers were greedy for a cash deal, anxious to unload a huge quantity and then hightail it out of the state as quickly as possible.
“So, will you make nice with the help?” Olivia’s head was cocked to one side. Her short black hair poked out every which way, a sign she’d nervously run her hands through it, which he’d noticed she did frequently.
“For you, anything.” He meant it from the heart, wished he could prove it to her.
“Yeah, thanks a lot.” Her gratitude was anemic. She left the room and headed down the hallway. “I really appreciate your support.”
Olivia’s words dripped insincerity. Heath took a beat to consider how much that bothered him. He’d been saying that she should be suspicious, question more than she accepted. She needed to expect the worst from people so she couldn’t be taken for a ride. That’s the perspective Olivia ought to have after the hard knocks in her life, but instead she was one of those cockeyed optimists, too good to be true. Heath’s insides shivered. The power behind her positive nature had become clearer to him by the day and he no longer felt the need to deny the source.
Heath was alone in the quiet space. Alone in the world for that matter. He hung his head.
“Lord, Olivia says You’re in control and You can do anything. Whatever Your plan is for the next few days, when it’s all played out will You please help me learn to be less of a jerk? I want to be a person my family will be proud to claim. I want to be a cop who doesn’t have to be afraid to show his face. I want to be a man who deserves a woman’s love. That’s pretty much a new person, and Olivia says that’s exactly the business You’re in. How ’bout it, God?”
“Stone, you down there?” Amos interrupted Heath’s pitiful effort at prayer. A raspy cough punctuated the question.
Heath poked his head outside Olivia’s cubicle, motioned silently to Amos. The older man entered the check-in area and pulled the hall door closed behind him, then followed Heath into the private space.
“I don’t think Sheehan’s our guy.” Amos wiped at his face with a checkered handkerchief.
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s too stupid.”
“I won’t disagree, but could you be more specific?”
“I dropped a couple of hints when we were alone in the kitchen. Stuff any seasoned doper would pick up on. He was more concerned about how many sweet potatoes were in that bushel basket than where a fella could score something big for a holiday party.”
Heath slumped against the wall, back to square one.
“I never thought it was him anyway.” Amos struggled through another fit of coughing that drained the color from his weathered face.
“Are you sure you feel like being up and about just yet? Maybe you should take it easy for a while longer.”
“I’ll be fine.” Amos dismissed the concern as he stuffed the handkerchief in his hip pocket. “Croupy lungs are what I deserve for smokin’ two packs a day for twenty years.”
“Okay, what were you saying about not suspecting Sheehan all along?”
“Mostly gut feeling, but he’s only been coming around here for a few weeks. This surge of campus drugs has been steady for a while now.”
“How would you know about that?”
Amos slanted an impatient glance at Heath. “I may look like a washed-up old coot on the outside but that’s not how I feel in here.” He pressed a gnarled hand to his chest. “I have a lifetime of experience as a cop and a family man. The bad times didn’t always outweigh the good ones and I didn’t drink so much that it pickled my memory.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Yes, ya did. You don’t expect a has-been like me to be in touch with what’s going on in my community, but I am. I read the paper, listen to the news and pay attention to talk inside the shelter. Anybody who’s really interested can figure out that we’re smack in the middle of a drug traffic lane and kids are gonna die if it’s not stopped.” The outburst cost Amos another coughing fit. Heath grabbed an unopened bottle of water from Olivia’s desk, twisted the cap and handed it to Amos. He drank to clear and calm his throat.
“Thanks,” he wheezed.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Not the water,” Amos clarified. “I mean thanks for looking out for Miss Livvy. She thinks she’s got it all under
control. She’s mighty sharp—I’ll give her that—but she needs help. For Pete’s sake, she’s only a kid.”
“She’s not much younger than me.”
Amos rolled his eyes. “You came into the world a grumpy old man. You started life thinkin’ the worst of folks, and thanks to your line of work now you expect it. Miss Livvy’s not jaded like you and me. She can still be happy as long as she gets the chance.” He punctuated the remark with a glare of overkill. “And while I’ve got the chance I want to thank you for protecting her and keeping this place in the clear. As soon as you make tracks in another direction, she can get on with the stuff she’s got planned for Table of Hope.”
“What about her art? Will you encourage her?”
“How about if we both just let go and let God handle it?”
The buzzer sounded, giving them both a start.
“What the…” Amos bit back his thought. They looked around the cubicle wall to find several bundled up figures stamping their feet to keep warm on the porch. “Looks like we might be back in business sooner than we expected.”
When the bolt was turned, the door flung wide and scarves unwound, revealing Bruce, Nick and Velma looking much better than the last time Heath had laid eyes on the three of them.
“The fever and chills are all gone,” Velma reported.
“And no barfing since we left here,” Bruce added.
“Let’s hope that’s not a commentary on the food, considering you’re second in command in the kitchen.” Amos pulled Bruce into a bear hug, the two men slapping each other on the back, careful not to set off coughing spells. “You sure you’re not out of bed too soon?”
Bruce shook his head. “Even though the nurses treated us like royalty, we couldn’t wait to be released. The minute we got the all clear we were dressed and out the door. We just happened to hitch a ride with the same van that was picking up Velma.”
“Y’all think you’re in good enough shape to help with Thanksgiving?” Amos still seemed worried about his friends.
“By the grace of God!” they chorused.
“Then I can’t wait for the look on Miss Livvy’s face when she sees we’re all back together.” Amos led the way. “And guess what? Our girl is gonna have an art show at a real gallery.”
The four trooped down the hall, communing in friendship, gone in search of their boss lady. Heath watched them go, leaving him behind with his thoughts. Her staff was back and with Peggy still there Olivia had all the help she needed. Tomorrow would be a big day one way or the other and then Heath could be free to “make tracks in another direction” as Amos had put it.
Everything was falling right into place. Here was another of those signs he’d just told Olivia he didn’t know how to interpret. But this one was so obvious even he couldn’t deny the message. His prayer for help was still fresh on his lips and here was a response. He reached into his pocket where his fingers grazed the warm metal of his cell phone.
Olivia was busy reconnecting with the people who were her family. It was time for Heath to do the same. He punched the first speed-dial number, excited to hear the voice that answered.
“Mom, it’s me. I called to see what you and Dad are doing for Thanksgiving. I sure could use one of your home-cooked meals. And we’ll need extra in case I’m able to convince company to join us.”
Chapter Twenty
It was two days before her very first Thanksgiving at Table of Hope and Olivia’s heart was full to overflowing with emotion.
Tonight she was surrounded by friends. Tomorrow they’d help prepare the huge holiday meal and then welcome returning clients in the afternoon. Thursday her new family would spend Thanksgiving together, and then on Friday she’d concentrate on learning something about each interior decorator and art collector on the list Lance had provided. It was unbelievable, but on Saturday she would be the guest of honor at Studio Gallery, making her debut as a local artist.
Father, forgive me. This shower of blessings should be plenty for anyone, but a busy schedule isn’t enough to crowd thoughts of Heath from my mind. He’ll be gone before I know it and my first touch of love will be nothing more than a scar on my heart. Help me to let go of myself while we worship tonight, Lord. Let it be all about You and nothing about me.
“I knew it!” Velma was triumphant.
Olivia raised her eyes from the well-worn Bible open on her lap. Velma had plopped front and center into the row of chairs set up for study. Her eyes were clear of fever and sparkling once again with the pure mischief Olivia had come to love in her friend.
“Knew what?” She was almost afraid to find out.
“You got it goin’ on with that good lookin’ fella.”
“I don’t have anything goin’ on, period.”
“Oh, please, girl. I’d have to be one of the three blind mice to miss the way he looks at you.”
Olivia’s insides quaked. “And just what is it you’ve noticed?”
“Since you’re shamelessly asking, I’m gonna tell ya.” Velma’s grin spread wider and she slid her chair close.
“That man would hardly raise his head from his plate a few days ago for fear somebody might look him in the eye. But if you asked him what we had for dinner tonight, I doubt he could say. He was watching you and brooding like a love-struck teen. And you weren’t much better.”
Velma was right. As glad as Olivia was to focus on her friends and catch up on the past few days, her attention kept straying to Heath. It would have been easier to stop drawing breath than to ignore him at her table. Each time their eyes locked, it was like their hands touching, their spirits embracing.
Heath loves me.
Olivia was certain of it, knew it as sure as she knew the sun would come up in the morning. Whatever fueled his reluctance to admit his feelings was just as strong as the excitement that had forced her to tell him how she felt. But nothing was more powerful than the God she served and Olivia trusted His plan more than she trusted human emotions. Still, the urge to fight this battle on her own was almost overwhelming.
“That obvious, huh?” Olivia acknowledged Velma’s astuteness. Her hand settled on Olivia’s knee to emphasize that something important was coming.
“There’s no shame in it, Miss Livvy. So don’t think you have to hide it under a bushel basket.”
Olivia smiled. “That’s exactly what Heath said to me about my painting.”
“He’s good lookin’ and smart. You could do a whole lot worse.”
The others began to find their seats so Velma scooted her chair away and took up her Bible. Peggy and Mary Sue claimed the seats beside Velma. Heath sat on the end, arms folded across his chest. His body language still said he was closed off, but Olivia knew better.
She opened their time together with a prayer of thanks and then moved straight into the story of Jonah and his call to preach repentance to the seafaring city of Nineveh.
“Most everybody knows the action-adventure part of the story. Jonah ran away from God’s command and boarded a ship headed in the opposite direction. During a storm he was thrown overboard by the crew, but God saved Jonah’s life by sending a great fish to swallow him whole. Inside the belly of the fish he spent three days and nights crying out to God and in His mercy God commanded the fish to spit Jonah out on dry land.”
“I can sure relate to having something in your belly that wants out!” Bruce teased.
“Please.” Heath blocked the very thought by covering his ears with both hands. “No reminders. Those were the grossest few days of my life.”
“We’d have been in a world of hurt if you hadn’t come along when you did and been willing to do the dirty work,” Amos admitted.
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Bruce added. Nick nodded, too.
“Trust me, if I’d known community service was gonna involve helping you guys in and out of the shower, I’d have opted for thirty days in the hole.”
The men shared companionable laughter, obviously bonded through the dire circumstances.
“And speaking of community service—” Olivia winked at the ladies as she wrestled the men’s attention back to their study. “What Jonah did for Nineveh is the part of this story we might not remember because we get stuck on the amazing transportation God used to deliver His messenger.” She waited for more snickers.
“The message is always the most important part and in this case it saved a population almost exactly the same size as Waco.”
“For real?” Nick asked.
“The Scripture calls Nineveh a great city of over 120,000 people. God planned to destroy them all.”
“So, Jonah’s visit was that important?”
“It wasn’t Jonah’s visit, Nick. It was his obedience. The ironic thing is the people of Nineveh respected God—they just wouldn’t obey Him.”
Amos joined in the explanation. “They were too big for their britches, thinkin’ they could behave any which way and get away with it. The Lord gives us a lot of rope and the free will to decide what to do with it. If we’re smart, we tie one end to Him and hang on to the other for dear life. If we’re too smart for our own good we wrap that rope around our necks and jump off a cliff. Those are the times when we find out that if our anchor isn’t Jesus Christ we’re just free-fallin’ fools.” Amos looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry for taking over, Miss Livvy, but I’ve been there and done that. These young folks can learn something from an old man if they’ll just have some respect for the voice of experience.”
“Amos is right,” Peggy added. “We choose our paths every day and we have only ourselves to blame when things go wrong. Eventually, God gets fed up. The Ninevites were so filled with wickedness, He decided to destroy them. But first He gave them one last chance.”
“By sending Jonah, you mean?” Nick was engrossed in the story.
“Exactly.” Olivia prepared to wrap up the lesson. “Jonah preached and warned that they had forty days to repent and then their city would be decimated. Everyone, from the king right down to the last dock worker knew Jehova God meant business. They put on itchy sackcloth, went without food and spent all their time praying for God to change His mind. Velma, would you read Jonah 3:10 for us, please?”
