Saturday Morning (15 page)

Hope walked out of her office and saw myriad papers, file folders, and pamphlets scattered across the floor. It looked like a dust devil had just blown through.

“What happened?”

“Don’t ask,” Celia snapped as she knelt to gather the mess.

“I won’t. But I’ll help after I see what’s going on in the playroom.”

“Ophelia’s found another bug.”

“Oh.” Today was turning into an eye-rolling type of day. Hope shook her head as she opened the door to the children’s playroom, where a little black girl, her hair captured in many short braids with bright ribbons, stood screaming in the middle of the room. Her wails had made two other little girls begin to cry—a chain reaction.

“Okay, sweetie, what is it?” Hope knelt in front of the four-year-old and looked into her frightened eyes.

“A bug. A bug.” Ophelia pointed at a big black beetle trying to escape into the corner.

“Did it bite you?” she asked, gathering the child into her arms. She smelled so clean and sweet, just like a little girl ought to smell. Night after night, Hope dreamed about holding a child of her own like this, but that’s all it would ever be—a dream. She’d given up on having children a long time ago. She’d done a lot of stupid things during her rebellious years and, like most kids, never imagined how things might end up. For Hope, it had been a hospital bed, a long recovery, and the reality of never bearing children. Too much damage, the doctor said.

The little girl shook her head and sniffed. “No bugs, Hope. No bugs.”

At least it’s not a roach.
“Okay, okay, let’s put him outside.”

“No-o-o. Kill it.”

“But why? He didn’t do you any harm. Bugs need to live too.”

“No-o-o. Bad bugs.” She scrubbed her eyes with little pink-palmed fists.

“Where’s your mommy?”

“I dunno,” she cried, then wrapped her arms around Hope’s neck.

“Okay, okay.” She carried Ophelia over to a chair. “You sit right
here, and I’ll take the bug outside.” She waved the other two girls over. “You two sit right here, next to Ophelia.”

Rub-a-dub-dub, three little girls in a tub—chair. All three curled up their legs and watched as Hope caught the shiny-backed beetle with one of the shirts from the dress-up corner. On her way to the door, she tried to remember who had playroom duty today. A little boy named Conner sat in the corner watching the goings-on, his thumb in his mouth, dark eyes cautious. He’d been there a week and had yet to say anything to anyone.

Hope planned on getting his hearing tested. Conner and his mother had come to the shelter because the father beat the child until his ears bled. When the police went to arrest the father, he’d disappeared, and thank God, he hadn’t come looking for them.

Hope put the bug outside, the girls returned to their play, and Conner smiled at her. Feeling ten pounds lighter, she returned to the mess around the front desk.

“We need more office help.” Celia held a stack of papers against her prodigious bosom and stared switchblades at the desk, counter, and credenza, all mismatched donations or yard-sale finds, and all buried in stacks of file folders and papers.

“Somehow, I think we’ve said that before.” Hope squatted to gather more of the errant papers into another pile. “I think that anytime paper gets in a stack, it breeds more paper. Have you noticed that?”

Celia shook her head.
“¡Qué asco!
I can’t keep up, and you can’t keep up.”

“I know. I know. Let’s set these along the wall where no one can bump into them.” Hope put her armful down and straightened it as best she could. When she raised up, a wave of dizziness sent her grabbing for the desktop, which sent another stack tumbling. “Oh, brother.”

“Sister and mother, too. What’s wrong?”

“I must have stood up too fast. I’m a little dizzy.” Hope blinked and stood still until the dizziness passed.

“Dizzy, tired all the time, poppin’ antacids like candy—it’s time you got yourself to the doctor.” Celia set the final stack against the wall and came over to feel Hope’s head. “No fever. You had anything to eat today?”

“Spring rolls, an elephant ear, and a peach,” Hope said. What she didn’t say was coffee, coffee, and more coffee.

Celia rolled her eyes and pursed her bright, red-defined lips, foot tapping. “You get back to your office, and I’ll get one of the girls to fix you somethin’s that’s good for you. Go on now,
¡ándale pronto!”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to say anything to anybody, especially Roger. Promise?” Celia crossed her heart. “And check the duty roster to find out who’s supposed to be supervising the playroom, and tell them … ”

Celia took her by the shoulders, turned her around, and marched her toward the office.

Thank God for Celia.
As maddening as she could be at times, the woman had a heart of 18-karat gold and a work ethic that made her the most valuable worker at J House.

Once back in her office, Hope sat down at her desk, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

Maybe this was God’s way of trying to tell her she needed to sit down and do paperwork. If it wasn’t … She thought back over the past couple of weeks—the tiredness, the heartburn, the upset stomachs … and now dizziness.
Like I need a health problem right now. Big Dad, God of all healing, you know how I hate doctors. Whatever this is, just take care of it, please. I don’t have time to be sick.

Tampa, Florida

Was California much farther from Florida than Florida from New York?

Clarice Van Dam, once widowed, twice married, stared at all the moving boxes, most of which she had packed herself because she couldn’t bear to let strangers handle her things. All her treasures were now wrapped and packed. She’d heard the packers talk about her interfering, but she didn’t let it bother her. Some of her collections were extremely valuable, not only in dollars but in memories.

“A new life” this new husband of hers, younger by twenty years, had promised her. What was wrong with the old life? At sixty-seven, wasn’t one supposed to settle in and enjoy the so-called golden years?

“Now, darling, you aren’t worrying about all this, are you?” Gregor put his arms around her from behind and kissed her under the ear, where he knew it would give her the shivers. That she could still get the shivers at her age had been a surprise.
I wonder what Herbert thinks about that!
She talked to Herbert every day, just as she had when he was alive. Herbert, friend of her childhood, love of her life,
and dead at fifty-nine of a heart attack. She had told him to slow down, and when he did, kaput, just like that, he was gone. She had to think he would be glad she had found happiness again.

She leaned against her husband’s strong chest and reached up to pat his cheek. “No, dear, not worrying so much as just thinking.”

“Ah, California, here we come.” He hummed the tune in her ear, turned her around, and danced her around the room, threading their way between the boxes and twirling her under his arm at the arched doorway. “We are going to have a glorious life. Perhaps you could become a Hollywood star. I can see it now: ‘Florida Woman Takes Hollywood by Storm.’”

Clarice laughed at his antics and batted his arm. “The way you go on. I’m an old woman, ready for bridge and bonbons.”

“Not you, my love. You are far too alive to spend your time playing bridge with old biddies and gossiping your life away. Besides, you have me to do all your worrying.” He hummed a few more bars, this time switching to “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” He pulled her more tightly to his swaying body, cheek against her ear. “Just think, we will have a hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the San Francisco Bay from our tenth-floor condominium on Russian Hill.” His arm marked the pretended scope of their view. “Over here”—his arm pointed to a stack of shipping cartons—“is Fisherman’s Wharf and the Golden Gate Bridge.” He swung to the boxes on the right. “And here is Grace Cathedral, and there you can see the tops of the Bay Bridge between the skyscrapers of downtown. The world-renowned San Francisco trolley goes right in front of our building, The Frederick.”

“It sounds wonderful.” She leaned against his chest, picturing the places he described, imagining the two of them exploring the city together.

“You said you’d dreamed of living in California someday, and our
someday is now.” He checked his watch. “The movers should be here any minute, but first, I have a surprise for you.”

“You are always full of surprises.”

“For you, my dearest Clarice, as a reminder of our new adventure.” He drew a small package from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

She glanced from the box to his smiling eyes. “You are so good to me, but this is not necessary.”

“Open it.”

His excitement always set her heart to pounding. She slid the bow off the long, narrow box. Surely not more jewelry. But a charm bracelet lay nestled in a cotton bed. It held three charms. She turned them to study each one. The Statue of Liberty.

“For your New York life.” He turned the palm tree over. “For Florida.”

She giggled at the third. “A trolley car.”

“We’ll add more when we travel.” He lifted it from the box and snapped it around her wrist, his hand under hers to hold it to the light. “Beautiful.” He cupped her jaw with loving hands and kissed her lips, her cheeks, nose, and back to her mouth, lingering there as if reluctant to let her go.

Mother Mary and Joseph, this man has bewitched me. How can I be so fortunate?

“I’m sorry I won’t be flying with you”—he kissed her again—“but I’ll be thinking of you every moment, even when I’m finishing things up here. You go to New Jersey, have a good visit with your sister, and by the time you get to San Francisco, I’ll already be there, and I’ll meet you at the airport when you arrive. Do you have all your tickets now and everything you need?”

Clarice nodded. “I’m only taking a weekender. As you said, I need to learn to travel light.” She reached up and kissed his chin.
My Greek
god
, she thought again as she stroked the dark curly hair that just covered the tops of his ears. “How will I find you there? I hear it is a huge airport.”

He handed her an envelope. “I’ll meet you at the baggage claim area for your flight. But just in case something goes awry, everything you need to know is right here—directions to our new home, phone numbers, my cell number, just in case you have a problem. I do wish you would carry a cell phone.” He gave her a slightly exasperated yet indulgent look. “Then I wouldn’t have to worry that you might need something, and I’m not there to provide it.”

Clarice rolled her eyes and shook her head, a tiny “tsk” escaping. “All right. I will take a cell phone.” She gave a slight shudder. “My carry-on and purse are going to weigh two tons by the time I get there.” She eyed her mink coat that he’d insisted she take along.

“That fog comes in over the city, and you’ll be glad you listened to me. And besides, you know how you freeze on airplanes.”

Even though she had argued, he’d been adamant, and as usual she gave in. Being cosseted took some getting used to, but she had learned to adapt.

“Now remember to turn your rings to the inside so no one is tempted to steal them.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have that one shipped?” He referred to the ring he had designed for her, using the stones and melted gold from her original wedding ring. She now wore that one on her right hand and her new ring set with its very large diamonds on her left. She never took either of them off. “No? I see that stubborn look in your eyes.
Cara mia
, I am going to miss you.” He stared deep into her eyes.

A horn honked.

“The taxi is here.” Gregor glanced out the bay window. “And the moving truck right behind.” He picked up her coat and took the handle on her suitcase. “Come on. Say good-bye to the old life and hello to the new.”

Clarice took one last look around, then dabbed her eyes and walked out the door.

Gregor handed her into the cab, leaned in to kiss her, closed the door, and waved her off. Clarice sat back in the car’s seat. Gregor had kept her so occupied she had forgotten to talk to Herbert today. “I hope this new venture has your blessing, Herbert, dear. Be happy for me, please.” She whispered low enough so the cabby wouldn’t think she had lost her mind.