More Than Words, Volume 6

by Joan Johnston

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I sure can. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be over.”

  Dory just wanted to make sure the kids had washed faces and clean clothes, and she was going to comb her hair and put on some lip gloss. The kids were ecstatic and raced ahead of her. They were a little shy when first meeting Elizabeth’s boys, Jed and Mack, but they all warmed up to each other quickly. As for Dory, she had a fantastic time. Visiting with Elizabeth and Clay while putting out dinner, eating and cleaning up was just the grown-up time she’d needed. She was reminded about how important it was to have balance in her life—not just important for herself, but for the kids to see in her, too. She worked too hard—she knew that. It wasn’t always just because money was tight, but often to keep her mind off how alone she could sometimes feel.

  It turned out Clay was full of questions about their organization and their goals. He seemed genuinely interested and pleased that Elizabeth was getting involved.

  The sun was sinking when Elizabeth and her boys took off—they, too, had to get organized to start a new week. Right after saying goodbye, Dory told her kids to get home and get started on baths. Before following them, she thanked Clay.

  “Not very fancy, but if I went to too much trouble, the boys wouldn’t be interested.”

  “It was great, and I specialize in unfancy. I’ve been meaning to ask—how would you like to join the kids and me for dinner? Maybe next Sunday?”

  “I work next Sunday,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s too bad…”

  “But I’m off the Sunday after that,” he said, smiling.

  “You don’t have family commitments, do you?”

  “I’ll manage not to. I’m entitled to a little of my own time. I’d love to have dinner.”

  “Good, then,” she said. “It’s a date.”

  He lifted a brow. “Date?”

  “You know…”

  He laughed at her. “I look forward to it.”

  DORY FOUND HERSELF LOOKING forward to her dinner with Clay so much that she bought the ingredients for her famous red beans and rice well in advance. She didn’t say anything until the next weekend had passed, then mentioned to the kids that on Sunday evening Clay was coming over for dinner. They were nothing short of thrilled—they adored him.

  She thought about that a minute and realized that he hadn’t really done anything spectacular with her kids to completely win them over. He was just himself—cheerful, present, and he communicated with them on their level. They’d helped him wash that big SUV of his and then, just for fun, they all washed her Pathfinder together, spraying each other and laughing the whole time. He’d given them ice cream sandwiches in the warm afternoon sun; they’d built a little fire in the yard one early evening and roasted marshmallows; they’d dug up a little garden patch in his backyard together so he could plant some pumpkin seeds for Halloween. He just included them in what he was doing, and not only did the kids have a good time, so did Clay.

  And Dory realized that she was also participating a little more all the time. She was no longer so afraid of getting close. She’d be the fourth for a game of catch, or sit on the ground with them while they roasted marshmallows. Of course, they never had a second alone, but that was good. Moving slowly was best. But she was admitting to herself that having a guy like Clay in her life, at least for a good friend, appealed to her. And maybe, just maybe, he’d become more.

  While she was at work, she found herself thinking about the kids and figuring out a way to afford the money to sign Austin and Sophie up for T-ball and Little League. She also needed to buy uniforms and bring drinks and snacks like the other parents. And Dory wondered how she would manage the schedule—driving to practices, being at games, pitching in with the other team parents. Money and time were always short. And she couldn’t give up her job or her commitment to single moms—one fed their bellies, the other Dory’s heart. Unfortunately, the manager of the grocery store where she worked was not really supportive of her cause; he didn’t like letting her have time off to serve any cause other than his bottom line.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the big fire rig pulling into the grocery-store parking lot—she couldn’t help but smile. This wasn’t an unusual event, but it had become one of her favorites. The firemen shopped en masse. They didn’t always come to Dory’s grocery store, and if they did it wasn’t always on Dory’s work days, but they always shopped in a full crew, just in case there was a call while they were away from the station. And if it was both Dory’s day and Clay’s day to work, she knew he would at least check through her line with a candy bar or something. He would flirt with her a little, tell the guys she was Dory, his next-door neighbor, and they’d all be really friendly. Dory never flirted, but she thoroughly enjoyed the way Clay did.

  When she saw the rig she thought that today, if he flirted a little as he bought a pack of gum or something, she might just return the favor. She was feeling so much more agreeable lately about Clay’s low-key advances.

  But it didn’t get that far.

  Dory was busily and happily running the bar codes of grocery items across the scanner, laughing with her customer, when she heard a comment from another checkout lane. “Holy crap, look at that!”

  She glanced through the front windows and saw that a couple in the parking lot stood arguing heatedly, nose to nose, yelling at each other. They appeared to be in their twenties, possibly early twenties. Her stomach took a flip. Not only had she seen this before, she’d been this before.

  The man shoved the woman hard, and she landed up against the hood of an old car. The man stumbled slightly as if he might be inebriated. And then the woman straightened, lifted her chin and simply went to the car’s back door, as if just carrying on with her business, and brought a baby out of the car! The child was maybe nine months, or a year at the most. She balanced the child on her hip and said something to the man. Even at a distance, Dory could tell the woman was brave. Not cowering but confronting. Then the man grabbed her free arm and gave her a violent shake, almost shaking the baby from her arms.

  Dory muttered, “Oh, God.”

  Some of the customers moved to the windows and someone else said, “Oh, God!”

  Dory committed the cashier’s cardinal sin—she left her register and went to the window. She quietly said, almost to herself, “Oh, God, help.” She watched as the woman hung on to her baby. The man, who was not at all steady on his feet, drew back his arm, hand in a hard fist, and slammed her in the face, knocking her to the ground. Dory screamed, “He-l-l-l-l-p! Please, help!” She bolted from the store, leaving her full cash register, drawer closed, and ran into the parking lot.

  The woman had managed to hang on to her infant during the horrible commotion, but she now sat on the ground in the parking lot. The baby was screaming, the woman had a large cut under her eye that was bleeding profusely, getting blood down the front of her and on her baby. Without hesitation, Dory flung herself on the drunk, unstable and dangerous man. He had been teetering to begin with so it took nothing for little Dory to tackle him. He hit the ground hard. She heard his head crack onto the ground and then she was on top of him. He was completely stunned and smelled like a brewery. In the background she heard the screaming of a small child.

  Dory never lost touch with reality, but she had a flashback. It was suddenly Austin’s crying and little Sophie was screaming, Mommy Mommy Mommy! The man beneath her hardly struggled—he seemed stunned. Then he closed his eyes and his mouth opened as if he was drunk and had passed out. She wanted to pummel him.

  Then his eyes popped open and he growled, baring his teeth. For just one terrible moment she shook in paralyzed terror, and braced herself to be hit.

  But just then a strong arm went around her waist and lifted her effortlessly off the man. “Easy does it, Dory. We got it.” Clay held her like a sack of potatoes against his hip and she watched as a couple of big, good-looking firefighters lifted the snarling man to his feet and held him. “The police
have been called and one of the boys is going to tend to this lady’s cut face and make sure the baby’s okay.” And then, almost as if it was an afterthought, he put her on her feet.

  She looked at Clay, at the two men holding the aggressor, and then at a firefighter crouched in front of the injured woman, his first aid kit already opened. She could hear the sound of sirens in the distance and feel the press of people from the grocery store forming a circle of spectators around them. But oddly, her first thought was, Is it required that firefighters be handsome?

  Clay looked down at her, hands on his hips. “What were you thinking, jumping on the guy like that?”

  “I was thinking if he swung at that woman one more time, he could hurt the baby.”

  “He could’ve shaken you off and hit you!”

  “I took that into consideration,” she said more bravely than she felt. “But I wasn’t holding a baby.”

  He shook his head. “Dory, Dory,” he said. “Well, you’re okay, aren’t you?”

  She grinned widely. “I’m fine.” Better than fine, she thought. I got between him and the woman he was going to hurt even more. She felt suddenly so strong, so capable. “Nice of you to do your grocery shopping today.” The sound of the baby crying right behind her caused Dory to turn.

  While the firefighter was tending to the young woman’s face, Dory got on her knees beside the mother and child and said, “Here, let me comfort the baby while he takes care of that cut. Come on, big fella,” she said.

  “She’s a girl,” the woman said, crying and gasping.

  Again the memories flooded back for Dory. The baby girl Dory held was dressed in baby jeans and a blue hoodie—safely warm, but not looking girlish. For poor Austin Dory sometimes had to make do with a girl’s jacket or shoes because that’s what she had and she couldn’t afford newer clothes. This woman might have an older child who was a boy, or maybe these were handed-down clothes. Perhaps she couldn’t afford to be fussy about the gender look of them. Dory looked at the mother. “Do you have somewhere to go that’s safe? Like friends? Neighbors?”

  She shook her head and cried. “I won’t press charges,” she said. “He’d kill me.”

  “Unfortunately for him, you’re not required to press charges. So many people saw him hit you, they’re going to charge him regardless. They’ll take him into custody. I volunteer for an organization that helps single moms. Of course, it doesn’t matter right now if you are single—we’ll do whatever we can….”

  She shook her head. “Not married.”

  The firefighter pressed a medicated gauze pad against a cut beneath her eye. “He hit you before? Even once?” he asked her.

  She nodded pathetically.

  “Do you understand that he’s going to hit you again if you stay with him? Again and again? And that it’s going to get worse and worse? Do you get that?” the man asked. “Do you understand that before long, your baby is going to be physically hurt?”

  She just cried. Her face crumpled and she sobbed loudly and Dory knew why—because she did get that, and yet it all seemed so hopeless.

  The baby in Dory’s arms cried, but less hysterically now. The baby laid her head on Dory’s shoulder, and Dory gently stroked her back. “What’s your name?” she asked the woman.

  “Simone,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t have anyone,” she whispered. “Just Max.”

  “I can try and find you some help. Our organization has a safe house. It’s full and we have a waiting list, but I’m sure there’s something we can do. I’ll make some calls. We’ll talk to the police—if they keep him overnight, you’ll be safe at home until tomorrow.”

  “My mom is in Colorado, but I don’t have any money.”

  “And this car? Is this your car?”

  “Sort of. It belongs to Max. It’s the only car we have.”

  The firefighter turned and looked up at Dory. “Tell her—she can’t take the car unless it’s registered in her name. The charge for grand theft auto is a felony, while battery domestic is a misdemeanor the first time.”

  Dory laughed sardonically. “Now, doesn’t that just illuminate what we’re up against here?” She turned to Simone. “Would you be safe at your mother’s if you went there?”

  “I can’t get there….”

  “But if you could get there, would you and the baby be safe there?”

  “I guess so.” She shrugged.

  “Do you want to get away from this mess? It’s up to you, you know. But he’s right—it’ll get worse. If you don’t make a change, it’ll get worse and eventually the baby will get hurt.”

  The young woman nodded, but her chin quivered.

  The firefighter looked at Simone. “I put a butterfly on the cut, but you need stitches. If you don’t get stitches, it might heal, but it’ll scar. You should also go to the hospital and get looked at, because there might be something wrong I can’t see. It would be good to have the baby checked, to be sure. The ambulance is on the way and—”

  Simone laughed through her tears. “I don’t have any money. I have some food coupons. And I’m on probation—I got arrested for possession. I was holding Max’s dope. I’m going to end up worse off if I get involved with the police or the hospital.”

  “Simone, if you did a urine test right now, would it be hot?” Dory asked. Simone would know what that meant if she’d been around druggies. Would a urine test show she’d been using? But the firefighter looked up at Dory just then with surprise, and maybe respect, in his eyes.

  Simone shook her head. “Not a thing. Not since I found out I was pregnant.”

  “Good for you—you protected the baby. Not easy for you, I’m sure. You want me to make some calls, see if I can get you back to your mother in Colorado?”

  “Can you?” she asked desperately. “Please?”

  “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.” The baby had quieted, her head resting on Dory’s shoulder. Dory snuggled her close and stood up. Ahhh, the feel of that small body against hers was heaven. “I’ll do what I can. I need to know where to find you, though.”

  The firefighter stood. “She and the baby will be at Valley Hospital. I can find someone from Social Services to get her home.”

  There was a hand on Dory’s shoulder and she turned to look into Clay’s eyes. Had he been there the whole time?

  “We’ll get her address and phone number so you can touch base later,” Clay said. “Meanwhile, we’ll make sure the police hold this guy tonight.”

  “That would help,” Dory said. She looked at her watch by glancing over the baby’s butt. “I have a couple more hours to work before I can get on it. But there are a lot of potential helpers in our organization—I think something will materialize.” She smiled at Simone. “I hate to give her up. My name is Dory Finn and if I don’t contact you personally, the person who does will say she’s referred by me.” She turned the baby toward Simone. “Please, get away from this mess if you have the chance. Please. Your life and your baby’s depend on it.”

  THE AMBULANCE TRANSPORTED Simone and her baby to the hospital, the police carted away Max, who was drunk, high and combative, the firefighters left the grocery store, and the store manager, Ben Sills, said, “Miss Finn. My office. Now.”

  She rolled her eyes and followed Mr. Sills. She suspected by his pink cheeks and agitated stride that he was a little worked up. They went to the back of the store, the loading dock area where there was a small office he used. He held the door for her, but after she entered, he slammed it shut. And she jumped. Okay, he was more than a little worked up.

  “What in the world were you thinking?” he shouted. “You left an untended cash drawer, in a store full of customers, while you ran into the parking lot to get involved in some brawl! Are you out of your mind?”

  She backed up a step. “A woman was being battered right in front of my eyes! She was holding a baby! What did you expect me to do?”

  “Leave it to someone else!”

  “Since I go
t there first, that would indicate no one else was moving! I wasn’t going to let him hit her twice!”

  “Did it ever occur to you he might’ve beaten you both up?”

  “Yes! But not until afterward. At the time it seemed better to try to take a chance, get involved, than worry about the consequences.” Dory took a deep breath to calm herself. “Mr. Sills, I’m sorry I left the cash drawer, but was any money taken?”

  He smirked at her. “We’ll find out when you cash out. Which you will do right now.”

  “My shift isn’t over yet….”

  “Yes, it is. You’re fired. I’ll give you a week’s severance, and don’t push it.”

  She was stunned and momentarily speechless. When she did find her voice, disbelief coated each word. “You’d fire me for trying to help someone in danger? Trying to help an infant in danger?”

  “It was the last straw, Miss Finn. We’ve talked about some of these issues before. You miss too much work, for one thing—one little problem at home and you’re calling in. You put your volunteer project ahead of the needs of this business. And today you abandoned your post, leaving the cash at risk, because something you care more about than your job caught your attention.” He shook his head. “I need more dependable employees.”

  “I don’t miss much work,” she said. “And single mothers without the support of an extended family have a real challenge when kids are sick.”

  He stiffened. “Then I’ll have to remember not to hire any more single mothers.”

  She lifted her chin. “Oh, Mr. Sills, you’re losing out on so much. Single mothers who need the work are a great resource. Plus you’re missing an opportunity to help, to do so much good. Do you realize half the poor in this country are single mothers? What will become of the next generation if we fail them now?”

  “I’ll worry about that in my old age, Miss Finn. Right now the single mothers who work for me are not a resource but a drain on my schedule and pocketbook. Cash out and I’ll cut your severance check.”