“Already got that covered,” Mary murmured. “I’m planning on giving them a call tomorrow.”
“If you’ll give me some names,” Matt said, “I’ll make some calls for you.”
“So will I,” Sam volunteered. “I’m sure Bev won’t mind letting me use the phone.”
“But how are we going to manage this?” Mary wondered aloud worriedly. “It’s taken us two hours to give away what we had, and that’s just from five restaurants. Besides that, the truck was full when we started.”
“We’ll need another truck,” Matt said. “Maybe a van.”
“Where are we going to get one?” Mary asked.
“I’ll make some arrangements,” Matt said.
She smiled at him. “You’re a wonder.”
“Oh, I’m in good company,” he replied, glancing from Mary to Sam with a grin.
When they dropped Sam off at the shelter, along with the truck, Matt put Mary into his sedan and drove her to Tammy’s house. Mary was uneasy until they were back in the car with John strapped in his car seat in the back of Matt’s car, and on their way out of the neighborhood.
As they passed Mary’s old house, she noticed that there were two cars in the driveway and that the For Rent sign had been removed.
“What is it?” Matt asked, sensing that something was wrong.
“I used to live there before I was evicted,” she commented sadly as they passed the old house. “Those must be the new tenants.”
“I don’t know how you’re handling all these changes,” he said with admiration. “You have three kids to support, a full-time profession and spending all your nights handing out food to people.” He shook his head. “You’re an inspiration.”
“I’m getting an education in the subject of people,” she told him. “It’s a very interesting subject, too.”
He smiled in the rearview mirror at the baby. “You have great kids,” he commented.
“Thanks,” she said shyly. “I think they’re pretty terrific. I could be prejudiced,” she added with a grin.
He laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Where are we going?” he added.
She realized that he didn’t know where they lived. “It’s that old motel next to the new Wal-Mart superstore,” she told him.
He glanced at her. “Al Smith’s motel?”
She laughed. “You know Mr. Smith?”
“Do I,” he laughed. “We were in the military together, back when the Marines were stationed in Lebanon and the barracks were car-bombed. Remember that, in the eighties?”
“Yes, I do,” she said.
“Two of my friends died in the explosion,” he said. “Smith was in my unit, too. He’s good people.”
“I noticed,” she said, and explained how kind he’d been to her family while they were adjusting to the new uncertainties of their lives.
“He’s that sort of person,” he agreed. “He’s done a lot of good with that motel, taking in people who had nowhere else to go and trusting them for the rent. I don’t know of one single person who’s skipped without paying, either.”
“He’s been great to us,” she said.
“So it would seem.”
He pulled up at the door of their room and got out, opening Mary’s door for her with an old-world sort of courtesy. He helped her get John out of his car, and carried the car seat into the room for her as well.
“Hi!” Bob called, bouncing off the bed to greet Matt. “Did you bring Mom home?”
“I did,” he told the boy with a smile. “We’ve been handing out food all over town. How was football practice?”
“Pretty good, if we could teach Pat Bartley how to tackle,” he said with a wistful smile. “He won’t wear his glasses and he can’t see two feet in front of him. But the coach is working on him.”
“Good for him. Who’s in band?”
“Me,” Ann said, grinning. “I play clarinet. I’m good, too.”
“I used to play trombone in band,” Matt volunteered.
“You did?” Ann exclaimed. “That’s neat!” She looked up at Matt curiously. “You look different when you aren’t wearing a uniform.”
“I’m shorter, right?” he teased.
She smiled shyly. “No. You look taller, really.”
“We’ve got leftover pizza. Want some?” Bob offered. “Mr. Smith brought it to us. It’s got pepperoni.”
“Thanks, but I had egg salad for supper. I’m sort of watching my weight.” His dark eyes twinkled at the boy. “New uniforms are expensive.”
“Tell me about it,” Mary sighed. “I’m trying to keep my own weight down so mine will fit.”
“You wear a uniform?” Matt asked.
“Just for one lady I work for,” she said. “She’s very rich and very old, and traditional. When I work for everybody else, I just wear jeans and a T-shirt.”
“Amazing,” he mused.
“Look, Mom, there’s that movie Bob wants to see!” Ann enthused, pointing at the small television screen.
It was a promo for a fantasy film with elves and other fascinating creatures.
“I want to see that one, myself,” Matt commented. “Say, you don’t work Sunday, do you?” he asked Mary.
“Well, no, but there’s still food to pick up and deliver—”
“There are matinees,” he interrupted. “Suppose we all go?”
Mouths dropped open. None of them had been to a movie in years.
“I guess I could ask Tammy to keep John…” Mary thought out loud.
“Wowee!” Bob exclaimed. “That would be radical!”
“Sweet!” Ann echoed.
“I need a dictionary of modern slang,” Matt groaned.
“We mean, it would be very nice,” Ann translated. “We’d like very much to go, if it wouldn’t be an imposition.”
Matt glanced at her and then at Mary. “We don’t need a translator,” he pointed out.
They all laughed.
“Then, that’s settled. I’ll find out what time the matinee is and call Al and have him tell you when I’ll be here. Okay?”
“Okay,” Mary said breathlessly.
Matt winked at her and she felt suddenly lighter than air. Worse, she blushed.
“She likes him!” Bob said in a stage whisper.
“Think he likes her, too?” Ann whispered back, gleefully.
“Yes, he likes her, too,” Matt answered for them. “See you all Sunday.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Mary said quickly, with a warning look at her kids, who suddenly assumed angelic expressions.
On the sidewalk, Mary wrapped her arms around her chest. It was cold. “Matt, thanks so much, for everything. Especially tonight.”
He paused at the door of his car and looked back at her. “I like your kids,” he said. “I really like them. They’re smart and kindhearted and they’re real troopers. Under the circumstances, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were sad and miserable. But they’re so cheerful. Like you.”
She smiled. “We’ve been very lucky, the way things have worked out for us,” she explained. “But the kids have always been like this. They get depressed sometimes. Everybody does. But they’re mostly upbeat. I’m crazy about them.”
“I can see why.” He gave her a long, quiet look. “You’re one special lady.”
She stared back at him with a racing heart and breathlessness that she hadn’t felt since her teens.
He bent, hesitantly, giving her plenty of time to back away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. He brushed his mouth tenderly across her lips and heard her soft sigh. He lifted his head, smiling. He felt as if he could float. “Dessert,” he whispered wickedly.
She laughed and blushed, again. He touched her cheek with just the tips of his fingers, and the smile was still there.
“I’ll look forward to Sunday,” he said after a minute, and grinned as he got into his car. “Don’t forget,” he called before he started the engine.
“As if I could,” she murmured to herse
lf.
She stood and watched him drive away. He waved when he got to the street.
Mary walked back into the room. Three pair of curious eyes were staring at her.
“He’s just my friend,” she said defensively.
“He’s nice,” Bob said. “And we like him. So it’s okay if you like him, too. Right?” he asked Ann.
“Right!” she echoed enthusiastically.
Mary laughed as she took little John from Ann, who was holding him. She cuddled the little boy and kissed his chubby little cheek.
“I’m glad you like him,” was all she said. “Now, let’s see if we can get our things ready for tomorrow, okay?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Mary felt like a new woman as she went to her job the next day. It was too soon to become romantically involved with any man, at the moment. But Matt was a wonderful person and she was drawn to him. Her children seemed to feel a connection to him as well, which was terrific. One of her employers, a middle-aged society hostess named Billie West, was married to old money and dripping diamonds. She was particularly interested in Mary’s project.
“You mean these restaurants are actually willing to just give you food?” she exclaimed.
“At the end of the business day,” Mary replied with a smile. “It’s only the leftovers, not the full meals.”
“Oh. I see.” The woman shook her head. “And you call them up and they give it to you.”
“Well, I do have to pick it up and deliver it to people.”
“Deliver it? Hmm. Is Chez Bob one of your clients?” she persisted.
“No, ma’am. I asked, but they weren’t interested.”
The older woman smiled. “Suppose I ask the owner for you?”
Mary was surprised. The elderly woman wasn’t usually talkative. Often, she wasn’t at home when Mary cleaned for her, using a key that was kept in a secret place. “You would do that?” Mary asked.
“There are two others whose owners I know, Mary’s Porch and the Bobwhite Grill. I could ask them, too.”
Mary just stared at her.
“You’re suspicious,” the blonde replied, nodding. “Yes, I don’t blame you. I’m filthy rich. Why should I care if a lot of society’s dropouts starve. That’s what you’re wondering, isn’t it?”
Mary perceived that only honesty would do in this situation. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I’m wondering,” she said quietly.
Billie burst out laughing. “Honey, I grew up on the back streets of Chicago,” she said surprisingly. “My old man was drunk more than he was sober, and my mother worked three jobs just so my brothers and I could have one meal a day. She could barely pay the rent. When I was sixteen, she died. It was up to me to take care of Dad, who had liver cancer by then, along with three young boys and get them and myself through school.” She sat down on the sofa and crossed her long legs. “I wasn’t smart, but I had a nice figure and good skin. I had a friend who was a photographer. He shot a portfolio for me and showed it to a magazine editor he did layouts for. I was hired to be a model.”
That was news. Mary had never heard the woman speak of her background at all.
“Overnight, I was rolling in money,” her employer recalled. “I got the boys through school and never looked back. Dad died the second year I was modeling. The third, I married Jack West, who had even more money than I did. But I never forgot how I grew up, either. I donate to the less fortunate on a regular basis.” She stared at Mary curiously. “Your other client Debbie and I are friends. She said that after your divorce was final, you were on the streets with three kids to raise. And despite that, you were out begging food from restaurants and delivering it to people in shelters. I must admit, it didn’t seem possible.”
Mary smiled. “You mean, because we were in such bad shape ourselves?”
“Yes.”
“I never learned how kind people could be until I hit rock bottom,” Mary explained patiently. “Or how much poverty and need there is out there, on the streets. There are disabled people, handicapped people, paraplegics and diabetics and people dying of cancer who have nothing.” Mary took a long breath. “You know, handing out a little good food might not seem like much to do for people in those situations. But it gives them hope. It shows them that they’re important, that they’re valuable to someone. It helps them to see that everyone doesn’t turn away and avoid looking at them.”
“I know what you mean,” the woman said quietly as she got to her feet. “I’ll make those calls. Have you got a way to pick up the food? What am I saying? You must have, or you wouldn’t be adding restaurants to your list.”
“The shelter where I started out was given a pickup truck. We use that.”
“We?”
“I have a few volunteers who help me,” Mary said. “And my children, of course.”
“How do you manage to do that and keep your children in school?”
“Oh, not just in school,” Mary assured her. “One of them plays football and one is in band. I think it’s important for them to learn teamwork.”
The other woman smiled. “Smart. I’ve always said that baseball kept my younger brothers out of jail. One of them plays for the Mets,” she added, “and the other two are assistant managers on different ball teams.”
“You must be proud of them,” Mary commented.
“Yes, I am. I helped keep them out of trouble. Could you use another volunteer? I don’t just have sports cars in the garage. I’ve got that huge SUV out back. It will hold a heck of a lot of food.”
“You mean it?”
“I’m bored to death, alone with my fancy house and my fast cars and my money,” Billie said blandly. “I don’t have any kids and my husband is working himself to death trying to enlarge a company that’s already too big. If I don’t find some sort of useful purpose, I’ll sit here alone long enough to become an alcoholic. I saw my Dad go out that way. I’m not going to.”
Mary grinned, feeling a kinship with the woman for the first time. “We all meet at the Twelfth Street shelter about five in the afternoon.”
“Then I’ll see you at five at the shelter,” Billie said, smiling back.
“Thanks,” Mary said huskily.
“We all live on the same planet. I guess that makes us family, despite the ticky little details that separate us.”
“I’m beginning to feel the same way.”
The two women shared a smile before Mary got back to work. It was so incredible, she thought, how you could work for somebody and not know anything about them at all. So often, people seemed as obvious as editorial cartoons. Then you got to know them, and they were really complex novels with endless plot twists.
Not only did Billie show up with her SUV at the shelter, but one of Matt’s colleagues from the police force, a tall, young man named Chad, drove up in another SUV and offered to help the group transport the food.
It was getting complicated, because there were now so many restaurants contributing to the program. Mary had been jotting down everything in a small notebook, so that she could refer back to it, but the notebook was filling up fast.
“We’ve got a small laptop computer with a printer that was donated last week,” Bev mentioned. “We really should get all this information into the computer, so that you can keep up with pickup and delivery locations and the time frames.”
Mary agreed. “That would be nice. But I don’t know how to use a computer,” she added with a grimace. “We were never able to afford one.”
“I work with them all the time,” Matt said with a lazy smile. “Suppose I come over an hour before we start tomorrow and key in the data?”
“That would be great, Matt!” Mary exclaimed.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” he added. “If I can read your handwriting, that is,” he mused.
“Well,” Mary began worriedly.
“Could you get off an hour early and have Smith watch the kids for you?” Matt persisted.
“She works for me tomorrow, and
sure she can get off early,” Billie volunteered, stepping forward. “Hi. I’m Billie West. Don’t let the glitter fool you,” she added when the others gave her odd looks. “I came up in Chicago, on the wrong side of the tracks.”
The odd looks relaxed into smiles.
“I’m Bev, I run the shelter. Welcome aboard,” Bev said, shaking hands. “That’s Sam Harlowe over there, and this is Matt Clark. Matt’s a police officer.”
“Nice to meet you,” Billie said. “Thanks for letting me and my SUV join up.”
“You and your SUV are most welcome,” Mary replied. “And thanks in advance for the hour off.”
“Where do we start?” Billie asked.
Now that they’d added three restaurants to the ten they already had, Mary realized the waiting time and the packaging of the donated food once it was picked up was going to pose a problem.
“This isn’t going to work,” she told Matt while they were briefly alone in the shelter’s kitchen, finishing up filling the last containers of food. “We really need one more vehicle so that we can split the list three ways and each truck will have a third of the restaurants to pick up from.”
“Bev said that she’s already had calls from six more restaurants that heard about your project and want to contribute,” Matt told her. “Your little project is turning into a business.”
“But there aren’t enough people,” Mary said worriedly. “Not nearly enough.”
“You need to talk to someone about the future of this project,” Matt pointed out. “You can do a great job if you just have more volunteers. It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing. You can’t let it overwhelm you.”
“It already has,” she said with a husky laugh.
“It shows,” Matt said with some concern. “You look worn-out, Mary, and I know you can’t be getting much rest at night. Not with a toddler.”
“John’s a good boy, and the kids are great about helping look after him,” Mary said defensively.
“Yes, but you still have to be responsible for all of them. That includes getting them to and from practice and games, overseeing homework, listening to problems they have at school,” he said gently. “That’s a heck of a responsibility for one woman, all by itself. But you’ve got a full-time job, and you’re spending every night running around Phoenix to restaurants and then distributing food until late. Even with your energy and strength of will, you must see that you can’t keep this up indefinitely.”
More Than Words: Stories of Hope Page 6
