by Judy Duarte
Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to befriend the girl. “Pastor Craig mentioned that you were job hunting. How’s the search going?”
“Not so good. I talked to the managers at a couple of shops, like The Creamery and Specks Appeal, but they’re not hiring right now. And I left an application at Café Del Sol, but I didn’t have a phone number to leave with them, so I’ll have to check every day.”
Café Del Sol was a trendy little café across from Mulberry Park. In fact, all of the shops she mentioned were near the park. Was she just looking for work in this area?
Dawn glanced at the clock, noting that it was almost one-thirty. Joe definitely must have been working on a fix-it project for Mrs. Rogers. But she was beginning to wonder why he hadn’t called.
She was just about to go back to the kitchen and pull out her cell phone to see if he had, when the door opened and Helene Waverly entered. Once the office manager for a local plumbing contractor, Helene was injured in a car accident by an uninsured motorist, which had left her on disability.
“You’re just in time, Helene.” Dawn offered her a warm smile.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” the woman said, “but I’ve been having this awful pain in my side.”
“That’s too bad.” Dawn reached for one of the boxes to give to her. “Have you seen the doctor?”
“I’m afraid my health insurance ran out. And since it’s the end of the month, I’m a bit short on funds. So I’ve been trying to hold off as long as I can.”
“Why don’t you try the community clinic?” Dawn asked, handing her a lunch. “I think they have a sliding scale.”
“I think I just might have to do that.” Helene took the box in one hand and the water Renee offered her with the other. “I’ve never had use for the place before. Where’s it located?”
“It’s on Fourth Avenue, not far from the elementary school.”
As Helene carried her lunch to one of the tables, Dawn watched her limp more than usual. The poor woman was really having a time of it.
“How far away is Fourth Avenue from here?” Renee asked.
“Why? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“I… uh … probably ought to.”
“Are you sick?”
Again she paused. “No, not really. I think I was supposed to get a flu shot or something.”
Dawn tried not to react to her explanation, but she wasn’t buying the flu shot excuse. The girl had to be pregnant.
Chapter 9
On Monday night, Kristy called Barb from the pub to let her know she’d be working overtime again. She’d hoped to be home by seven, but one thing led to another, and she didn’t even get to the bus stop until nine.
Barb had offered the use of her car, as she’d done before, but Kristy refused to take her up on it. What if there was some kind of emergency and Barb needed transportation?
Now, though, as Kristy walked along the sleepy street of her neighborhood, where only a few of the porch lights still burned bright, she slipped her hands into her jacket pockets, trying to keep them warm. She sure hoped this was her last night without wheels—and it just might be.
One of the pub regulars owned an auto repair shop, and when he’d found out she’d been taking the bus to and from work, he agreed to give her a good deal if she took the car to him tomorrow morning.
He said to have it towed if she couldn’t drive it to his shop, which might sound like an easy solution. But even if she got a bargain on the repair work, she would have to figure out a way to make her monthly budget stretch. Otherwise, she’d have to get into the dwindling savings one more time, which she hated to do.
It didn’t take a math whiz to figure out that, at this rate, there wouldn’t be anything left in a year. And then where would she be?
If she were a religious person, she might try praying about it, but she’d done that once, and it seemed that God wasn’t paying much attention to her or her needs.
Of course, He hadn’t seemed to be paying much attention to Gram’s needs, either, and if He didn’t listen to a woman who’d devoted most of her life to the church and to others, why would he pay any attention to Kristy?
As she neared the house, she noticed that trash cans and recycling containers dotted the sidewalk, reminding her that she would have to get hers out, too.
Sadly, she’d begun to mark the passing weeks by the trash days, and every time she turned around, she was facing a Tuesday morning all over again.
She opened the front door and let herself in—quietly so as not to wake anyone.
The lights were dim, and the television was on, with its volume turned low. Barbara was dozing on the sofa, with the crocheted afghan draped over her lap and legs.
“Barb?” Kristy whispered.
The nurse jerked to a sit and blinked her eyes. “Oh, dear. I dozed off for a moment. I’m sorry. I don’t like doing that.”
“That’s all right. I apologize for being late.”
“It’s not a problem. I know they’ve been shorthanded at the pub.” Barbara got to her feet and folded the afghan. “But I’m afraid I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“What’s that?”
“Harry called. He got the job.”
Kristy’s heart dropped with a thud, but she did her best to provide a genuine, unaffected smile. “It’ll be tough to find a replacement, but I know that the promotion and the move will be good for you.”
“Thanks. To be honest, I’m really happy about this. It means that I can finally retire. But it also means we’ll have to move.”
“How soon?”
“That’s the hard part. He’s supposed to start next week. I don’t know why they took so long to make a decision. And then they tell us everything needs to happen quickly. The company will buy our house in Fairbrook and help us relocate, but there’s so much to do. We need to talk to a real estate agent in Costa Mesa, and … Well, I’m not even sure where to begin.”
“I’ll have to start looking for someone to take over for you,” Kristy said.
“I’m really sorry to put you in that situation.”
“Don’t be.” Kristy smiled. “That’s life.”
And speaking of life …
As luck would have it, Mrs. Delacourt had called this morning before Kristy left for work, inviting her to a meet-the-in-laws dinner on Friday night. Kristy would have loved to have told her that she couldn’t make it because she had to work, which was true, but she’d promised Shana to run interference. And the first place she’d have to start speaking up for the bride-to-be was at that particular get-together. So she would have to figure out a way to pull it off, even if she’d rather schedule a root canal.
“Remember when I mentioned that I was invited to a dinner on Friday night?” Kristy asked.
“Yes, I do remember. And I told you that I was free that night, but that’s no longer true. With the promotion and all, Harry wants to drive up to Irvine this weekend and start looking around. He has a meeting with his new supervisor on Friday afternoon, so he’d like for us to leave about noon. I hope that doesn’t leave you in a terrible bind.”
Actually, it did, but there was no need to admit it and make Barbara feel bad about something that couldn’t be helped. “Don’t give it another thought. I’m sure something will work out.”
If worse came to worst, she’d ask Maria Rodriguez, Danny’s mother, to babysit. But Maria had her hands full with three children and a job, and Kristy hated to always be the one asking for favors.
“Will you be able to work on Wednesday evening?” Kristy asked. “I was able to swap Friday with Sandra, but that was the only other day she was able to trade.”
“Wednesday isn’t a problem.”
Maybe not to Barbara, but it still seemed problematic to Kristy, since that meant she’d miss Craig’s visit. But truly, she couldn’t dwell on that. If a preacher had caught her eye, she was truly losing it—no matter how good looking he was.
She’d sensed that the attraction mi
ght be mutual, but Craig didn’t know anything about her yet.
For the briefest of moments, she forgot about her track record and let Jesse’s fairy-tale parable came to mind, but not for very long. Kristy wasn’t a princess by any means. And she wouldn’t ever date a preacher—assuming Craig went so far as to ask her out.
“Well,” Barb said, as she grabbed her purse and coat, then headed toward the door, “I’d better hit the road.”
“And I’d better take out the trash.”
As Barb got into her car and started the engine, Kristy headed to the side of the house, unhooked the gate, and began to drag the cans to the street. The sound of plastic receptacles dragging along the concrete driveway echoed in the night air, which was crisp and cool tonight.
“Need some help?” a man asked.
Kristy jumped back at the unexpected sound, then searched to place a face with the voice.
It was Jesse.
She was surprised to see him on her street, and for a moment she felt a bit uneasy. But there was something warm and gentle in his eyes, something that belied the hopelessness of his homeless situation.
A chilly breeze kicked up, and he shivered.
She noticed that he was wearing only a threadbare long-sleeve shirt. “Where’s your coat? You had one on the other night.”
“It was a bit warm this afternoon, so I took it off. But apparently someone else needed it more than I did.”
“Someone stole it?”
“If they meant to borrow it, they forgot to mention it. So I guess they needed it more than I do.” He tossed her a wry smile.
“Wait here. I’ll get you a jacket.” She returned to the house and climbed the stairs to the spare bedroom where Gram kept her late husband’s things. The door remained closed most of the time, and Kristy only went inside to dust.
After entering, she sought the light switch and illuminated the room. As she scanned the interior, she breathed in the musty scent of time and memories laced with a hint of the lemon oil that she’d used last week on the antique furniture.
A double bed with an old chenille bedspread took up most of the space and sat close to a window that was adorned with a lacy curtain and had a functional, pull-down shade.
A black leather Bible, its spine worn and cracked, lay on the dark oak nightstand, next to a tobacco pipe, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, and an ornate alarm clock with gold-leaf trim.
Before the stroke, Kristy had caught Gram in here a couple of times, holding an old flannel shirt close to her nose, trying to breathe in the scent of a man who’d passed on years earlier.
Kristy had never met Stan Smith. He’d died when her mom had been in high school, but his clothes still filled the closet.
She couldn’t understand why Gram had kept all of his things. A couple of times, when Kristy had been a kid, she’d come into the room to snoop around and to try and get a handle on the kind of man that Gram had once loved and lost way too soon. But she was always thwarted by this over whelming sense that she was encroaching on a shrine, so she’d slipped out almost as quickly as she’d slipped in.
But not tonight.
She shoved through those honor-the-shrine thoughts and searched the closet, looking for a jacket to give to Jesse. There were several to choose from, but she ended up taking a blue one made of a quilted, nylon fabric. She thought it might be warmer and rain resistant.
On impulse, she checked the pockets, just to make sure they were empty.
But they weren’t.
One of them had a good-size bulge in it, so she unzipped the opening and reached inside. She removed a folded white envelope and suspected, even before tearing into it, that it contained money.
She lifted the flap and peeked inside. “Oh, wow.” She pulled out a stack of hundreds and counted more than five-thousand dollars, a windfall that would buy her and Gram more time before they hit rock bottom and were forced to sell the house.
Somewhat in awe of her good fortune, she carried the cash to her bedroom and hid it in a musical jewelry box that had been hand-carved out of pine. The wooden box had a false bottom, so it would make an ideal hiding place. She placed it in the top drawer of her nightstand for safe keeping.
That task done, she carried the jacket out to Jesse and handed it to him.
He carefully looked it over, caressing the quilted fabric and clutching it close to his chest before slipping his arms into the sleeves. His blue eyes, which were always striking, were especially bright now. “Thank you, Kristy. You have no idea how much I appreciate your generosity. I’ll find a way to pay you back for your kindness to me. And I’ll return the jacket when I no longer need it.”
Kristy could start a tab, but she wouldn’t bother doing so.
“You don’t owe me anything. That jacket has been inside the house for years, and it wasn’t doing anyone any good. So please keep it. I’m glad someone will finally get some use out of it.”
“Thank you.” Those compelling blue eyes searched hers. “You look tired. More so than you ought to be.”
“I guess I am. But mostly it’s from pedaling as fast as I can and not making much progress.”
The money would help, she realized. But she still needed to find someone qualified to look after Gram and Jason while she worked. If it was just her son, she could let him go to the YMCA after school and insist upon daytime hours at work. But Gram needed in-home care.
“And to make matters worse,” she added, “I lost my grandmother’s caregiver, who was also my babysitter.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s too bad, but I know someone looking for a job like that, and I can heartily recommend her.”
“Who is it?” she asked before realizing that she probably needed to find someone with better character references than a homeless man Kristy had just met.
“Her name is Renee. She’s young, but she’s a decent person with a good heart, and she needs the work. She’d probably do it for less than whoever you had, which would be a win/win for both of you.”
“I’d have to talk to her. And the job isn’t that easy. My grandmother has run off several caregivers already, so there’s no telling how long anyone will last.”
“You won’t have your grandmother much longer,” Jesse said. “So enjoy the time you have left with her.”
Goose bumps chased up and down Kristy’s arms, but more out of uneasiness than cold.
It sounded too much like a premonition, a prophecy, especially when Jesse had said that he had “a gift.”
But she wouldn’t let that get to her.
His revelation was an easy prediction to make. Gram was in her late seventies, not in the best of health, and had lived the bulk of her life already. Common sense would suggest that she might not live much longer.
So she chased off her uneasiness.
Jesse might be unique, but he was also too weird to be true.
Danny’s voice rang out in the canyon. “Hey, Renee!”
Every weekday, after school let out, the boys showed up, and Renee found herself looking forward to their visit. And not because they kept bringing her more stuff. It was actually nice to have someone to talk to.
She poked her head out the door of the tree house and saw them laden with even more gifts.
This time Jason was with them again, which seemed like a bad idea, especially if his mom didn’t like him being in the canyon. But Renee wouldn’t harp on him about that. Instead, she climbed down and looked over the things they’d brought this time.
Danny carried a birdcage made out of wire coat hangers and adorned with a fake canary, artificial red flowers, and greenery. “I thought you might want to hang this up someplace. The bird is fake, but it’s kind of pretty.”
It wasn’t something she would have picked out if she had a choice, but she’d find someplace for it.
Tommy lifted a silver statuette of a soldier aiming a rifle. “Cool, huh?”
Renee scrunched her face. “I guess so, if you like G.I. Joe.”
He push
ed his glasses back along the bridge of his nose and studied the figurine. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
If she had a real house, she might use it as a doorstop. “I guess a boy would think it was neat.”
“I told you she would have liked that picture of cupid better,” Danny said.
Kristy gave all the items a once-over. “Where’d you guys get this stuff? I don’t want anyone getting mad at you for taking it.”
“It’s just junk no one wants. We found some of it in our attics, but the army man was in my garage. My mom only keeps stuff she wants inside the house. I think she was planning to give that to the Salvation Army.” Tommy brightened. “Hey, that’s kind of funny.”
“What is?”
“You know, a metal soldier going to the Salvation Army?” He laughed, but no one else did.
Jason held another clock. It was kind of big, and bulky, but it had pretty gold trim. Renee wondered if it was an antique.
“Are you sure that’s just stuff no one wants?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Jason said. “I found it in the junk room in our house. It’s usually all closed up, except the door was open this morning, so I went inside and looked to see if there was anything you could use. And I found this. I think it even works, but it probably needs batteries.”
Renee took a better look at the clock. It had a little wind-up thingy, which was good since she didn’t have electricity. So she gave it a try, and sure enough, it started ticking. “Cool. It does work. Thanks.”
The clock was definitely going to go to the new place, when she got one.
She glanced at the younger boy. “Hey, aren’t you going to get in trouble for being out here again?”
“Nope. I’m staying with Danny till my mom gets back from getting her car at the car place, and he’s being babysat by Walter, who said I could come on the Bushman Trail. So if she gets mad, she’ll have to get mad at a grownup.”
“Yeah,” Danny said. “Walter’s cool. He’s kind of old, and you’d think that he probably forgot what it was like to be a kid. But he still remembers lots of neat stuff he used to do when he was a boy. And he thinks the canyon is a good place for us to play.”
