A Season For Family

A shoulder nudged playfully against Olivia’s.

“Ain’t he somethin’, just like I said?” Velma whispered.

“Would you stop!” Olivia hissed, hiding the humor that would only encourage her friend.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” Velma smacked her always-painted lips. “That man needs a lady friend and I just might have to apply for the job, even if it’s only part-time.”

As Olivia stood to clear her plate from the table, she gave Velma’s arm a pinch. “You behave yourself,” she instructed. “We have rules here and for good reason.”

Even so, it was impossible to disagree with Velma’s assessment. Heath’s questioning brown eyes had met Olivia’s only once across the table. For the brief seconds she’d held his gaze, a deep sense of emptiness had stirred in her spirit. Olivia wasn’t experienced enough with relationships to know if the need she recognized was his or her own.

As she carried her plate toward the cleanup station, she tried to imagine what Heath thought of her cheerfully painted dining hall. She sniffed the warm air, wrinkled her nose. Okay, it got a bit smelly in the evenings with all the food and the crowd of people right off the street. But before lights out everyone would have an opportunity to freshen up, to appreciate a brief shower.

The hot water heaters would be nearly empty by the time the staff had a turn. But with a man as handsome as Heath Stone as their new resident, the chill of a cold shower was probably a good idea. Especially for Velma!

If Heath added up all the dishes he’d washed in his twenty-nine years of life, it would still be less than the number of plates that passed through his sink tonight. He was fairly sure this would become a frequent event, so he needed to accomplish the job he’d been sent to do and then make tracks toward a new future in a new place.

Just today he’d firmly decided to leave the force.

“I gotta get out of drug enforcement, Biddle,” Heath had complained to his trusted friend at lunchtime over chips and vending machine sandwiches. “What’s the use in bustin’ college kids for dime bags when there’s an endless supply out there? It’s just a waste of effort and tax dollars.”

“Oh, come on,” Biddle chuckled. “It was a bigger deal than that. You’re just sufferin’ poststakeout blues. You say this every time a case wraps and you have to cool your heels waitin’ on the grand jury.”

Bill Biddle was patient to a fault when a cop needed to let off steam. Venting had become a daily occurrence for Heath, frustrated as he was by the constant stream of drugs across the Mexican border into Texas.

“It would be different if the indictments paid off,” Heath griped. “But the honcho of this new outfit seems to have an endless supply of product and every money-grubbin’ lawyer in Texas in his hip pocket. Living in disguise twenty hours a day is making it harder and harder to remember who I am. It’s just not worth it to me anymore.”

“Listen, son.” Biddle had laced his fingers across a sixty-something belly. “I know going undercover wasn’t your first career choice, but you’re good at the work. Stick with us till we can afford another full-timer in the Computer Crimes Unit. Microsoft and Google aren’t the only places a natural nerd can find his calling, you know.”

Heath reached for another dirty plate, grateful for the ugly yellow gloves that were a barrier between him and cleaning up after these homeless people. This place was definitely not for him and the sooner he was out from under the eagle eye of Grandpa Amos, the better.

Earlier, while Heath picked up the shattered pieces of a fumbled cup, he’d foolishly mentioned that using disposable stuff might be a good idea. He was swiftly educated about the virtues of soap, water and elbow grease versus garbage that would still be in a landfill when Christ returned. Then Amos started in about the number of trees that died for the sake of paper plates when a restaurant supply had donated perfectly good dishes.

“And, by the way, butterfingers,” he’d warned, “try not to break anything else. Money’s tight around here!”

Olivia’s return to the kitchen was like a sedative, quieting the curmudgeon who was a cranky Pit Bull guarding his boss lady’s business. As she picked up a stack of clean bowls near Heath’s work area and then stepped away, a sweet aroma lingered. She turned to carry them to the dish pantry and he seized the moment.

“Um, excuse me. Could we talk?”

“Sure,” she answered. A patient smile lifted the corners of her tired eyes. Setting the bowls back on the counter, she grabbed a fresh kitchen towel to dry the coffee cups in his drainer. The woman’s hands hadn’t been still since she’d introduced herself. He knew rookie cops who could use a dose of her stamina.

“It’s been crazy here tonight,” she admitted. “That’s the nature of a shelter in the winter. When the weather’s warm, folks leave right after the meal, but if it’s freezing we tend to bed down almost everybody. And even when it finally gets quiet, there still seem to be a dozen problems that need attention.”

“I noticed.” He’d only been in the place a few hours and had already come to the conclusion there must be easier ways to get some of the jobs done. But if it was all a front for drugs, why care about efficiency?

“So, what can I do for you?” she asked.

Before he bothered to state his case, Heath was pretty sure what the woman standing beside him would say, but he needed an opportunity to poke around the place when everybody else would be occupied. He gave it a shot.

“You can tell me Amos is wrong about nightly Bible study being a requirement of staying here.”

Olivia flung her red checkered towel over her left shoulder and pointed to a plaque on the wall above their heads. It was identical to the one he’d noticed above the front entrance.

Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Matthew 6:33

“We’re in the business of seeking God. Shelter and food are only the physical part of what Table of Hope is about. Introducing lost souls to Christ and helping believers grow closer to Him is the primary reason we’re here. If you’re going to be with us even for a short while, worship is nonnegotiable. It’s a daily time that brings the staff together with a common heart.”

“But what if I don’t believe that stuff anymore? Why would you want me to take part if I didn’t feel the same way you do?”

“Faith comes by hearing the message and the message comes through the Word of God. Just because you don’t feel the same way I do doesn’t mean the Holy Spirit can’t use Scripture to meet your needs, whatever they are.”

Heath’s jaw tightened, sending a pinpoint of pain into his temple. This shouldn’t be a big deal. He’d find another way to skin this cat. But having somebody force religion on him rankled all the same, reminded him of the well-meaning adoptive parents who were forever trying to suck him into their church activities. Once they moved to Florida, he thought this sort of coercion was behind him.

Evidently not.

“I’ll cooperate because I have to, just like I have to wash dishes.” Heath reached for more dirty flatware and slid spoons and forks into the sudsy water while keeping his gaze away from the intensity of Olivia’s oh-so-lovely eyes. “But I want to say up front that requiring me to listen to Bible study will be about as effective as forcing me to do community service. Neither one can rehabilitate the person I am inside.”

A hand rested lightly on his shoulder. His already tense muscles stiffened more.

“Is it being stuck here that’s got you keyed up or are you angry at the world in general?”

“Is submitting to therapy also a requirement of your program?” He glanced at the spot where her fingers touched him, warming the flesh beneath the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt.

Olivia pulled her hand away. She reached for another dish and continued to help in spite of his rudeness.

“May I ask what kind of work you do in Austin?”

“Government security.” He began to spin a fresh web of lies, making up his story as he went along. Saying whatever it took to get her to drop her guard.

“Will you lose your job over this?”

It was natural for Heath to examine the motives behind questions. Did this lady really care what happened to him? Could her ministry to this captive audience be sincere, or was this God business just a more intricate cover than the average dope dealer bothered to set up? A loyal daughter would go to a lot of trouble to protect her father, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Heath turned his head, his eyes searching hers. He smiled to mask his suspicions.

“One of Waco’s city officials is the brother of my boss. He challenged me to hack into their Intranet just to stick it to his brother. I actually did the city a favor by pointing out the weakness in their network, but the mayor didn’t see it that way. Even though I didn’t access anything confidential, Judge Wapner still threw the book at me. I covered for my boss and he’s letting me use vacation time till I get home.”

“Do you have family in Austin?”

“Nope.” Heath said the word like punctuation to end the prying.

Olivia caught the hint, knew he was telling her to back off, but she kept pressing. “So it was a security job that drew you to our state capital?”

If this guy thought she’d go away easily, he had another think coming. People were her life’s work. Each one had a story worth telling and most needed somebody to listen. Maybe if she’d been tuned in to her father, she’d have recognized the signs of trouble, spotted the depth of his deception before it was too late.

But she’d barely been nineteen back then. He’d run like a coward and left her alone to face the enormity of his white collar crime. His disgraceful departure devastated Olivia. He left her with nothing but the landmark family home that was her late mother’s inheritance, Olivia’s birthright. Selling off the antiques kept the taxes paid and the water turned on, but little more. Once the place was nearly empty, it only made sense to let the property go and use what funds were left to do something positive to restore the Wyatt name by giving back to the community her father had swindled.

Some citizens had objected to another mission, even complained that it encouraged transients to frequent the area. Olivia would not be distracted by opposition, since she realized from her first volunteer experience that she was called to witness to the homeless. Or nonbelievers like the one standing before her now with his rubber gloves fisted on his hips.

“Is this an interview?” Even while he was glaring and demanding an answer, the man was a pleasant sight. His lean arms pulled the sleeves of his black T-shirt tight against a solid chest. “Or are you just nosy with everybody?”

“Pretty much everybody, but especially with the ones I allow to hang around for a while,” she said, a reminder that she had every right to ask a few questions. “Some of your answers would already be in writing for me if you’d had time to fill out the paperwork. How about if I empty out that sink while you take a break and get those forms completed.”

The glare of his eyes softened, the set of his jaw seemed to relax and his head tilted ever so slightly as if he were sizing her up. He turned back to the sink and resumed his attack on the white stoneware.

“If you get a nonnegotiable, then so do I.”

Olivia detected a hint of humor in his words.

“And what would that be?”

“I don’t shy away from hard work. I pull my own weight, especially in the service of a lovely lady.”

She hadn’t thought of herself as a lady in quite a long time, let alone one who was lovely. Humility was a free by-product of dressing in cast-off clothes.

“I never argue with a man who wants to do his part.” She sidestepped the compliment. People were generally grateful when you took them in, so it was her practice not to read too much into flattery.

“Miss Livvy, a toilet in the women’s lavatory is overflowin’ like the Brazos in rainy season.” Velma stood in the doorway with a mop in one hand and a janitor’s bucket at her side.

“Not again,” Olivia groaned. “The plumber promised it was fixed.”

“I already shut the pipes off, but I could use some help to clean up the water.”

“I got it.” Heath made a beeline for Velma and relieved her of the mop. “Point the way.”

“Just follow the stream.” She glanced at the wet tile floor. “It’ll lead you straight to the source.”

“You get the ladies out?”

“Sure did.”

“Can you wait by the door till I give the all-clear signal? We wouldn’t want anybody to slip and fall.”

“I got you covered, sugar cookie.” Velma winked at Olivia before she hurried after Heath.

Olivia offered up a prayer of thanks for having another pair of strong hands for a while, whether he was a willing volunteer or not. He hadn’t hesitated to take charge of cleanup in the ladies’ room, a place most guys wouldn’t go if their lives depended on it. He even made it a one-man job, so maybe that would get a thumbs-up from Amos. Staff relationships were important in close quarters.

She’d been exposed to a lot of unhappy people in her life and Heath had a thorn in his paw, for sure. If she had to make an educated guess, she’d say it had more to do with how he felt about himself than how he felt about the world around him.

According to Detective Biddle, Heath had thought about it for a while before choosing Table of Hope for his community service. She understood his reluctance to move into a shelter. Lots of people break the law intentionally, but very few associate with homeless folks by choice. A mission wasn’t exactly one step up from a labor camp and serving others shouldn’t be considered as a form of punishment.

Still, she’d gone along with the arrangement because it was nice to know Waco’s finest were aware and keeping an eye on activity at the shelter. There was a modicum of comfort in knowing that she wasn’t totally on her own when the lights went out each night. With so few trustworthy men in her life, the cops were high on her short list.

Chapter Three

A quick search of the women’s hot pink locker room for evidence to pin on Olivia Wyatt left Heath empty-handed. But he really hadn’t expected to find anything incriminating, at least not that easily. So he tackled the wet floor, pushing and pulling the industrial-size mop across the linoleum, pausing every few sloppy strokes to squeeze the head in the wringer attached to the bucket. As he worked, he mulled over his situation. For some reason he felt even more bent out of shape than usual.

“What’s your problem, Stone?” he grumbled aloud. “Just do the drill and get out. This assignment is a cake-walk compared to the last one.”

Five days ago he’d been in full body armor, a stinger in his grip, as he used the steel battering ram to break down the door of a crack house. A cop could never be sure what he’d find on the other side; could be drug-dazed kids, could be gunfire.

Hanging out at Table of Hope would be a big honkin’ bore by comparison. But hadn’t he just tried to convince Biddle that a quiet existence was exactly what the doctor ordered? Putting his life on the line over drugs was a losing battle. As soon as he wrapped this case he’d be off to the West Coast and the life of a professional geek.

“You ’bout done?” Velma yelled through an inch-wide crack in the door. “I got ladies who need to get in there.”

“You tell ’em unless they want to slip on this wet floor and break a leg to hold their horses for ten more minutes,” Heath yelled back. Then he muttered, “Pushy woman.”

“I heard that,” Velma called as the door creaked shut.

He felt a smile spread the width of his face, maybe for the first time in days. This place was definitely run by control freaks, but that seemed to be a good thing. From what he’d been able to observe, the facility was clean and in spite of his lame contribution to the meal, the food had been tasty and plentiful. It was a good thing since there were more hungry and homeless around here than he’d have guessed.

Yep, with so many people coming and going and the staff’s constant activity, this shelter would make a convenient cover for drug trafficking whether Olivia was involved or not.

Olivia.

He was bugged by a quality in her that he couldn’t quite identify. Was she a willing participant, covering for someone who’d let her take the fall? Or was she the real deal with this religious stuff? There was softness in Olivia’s dark gaze that appeared ready to forgive unknown and unconfessed sins. It was reckless and brave at the same time and, again, difficult to interpret.

He found that as worrisome as an unchained guard dog. Heath’s knack for reading people made him good at his job, kept him alive. Olivia Wyatt would be a challenge. Well, at least he’d leave undercover work on an interesting note, thanks to the unconventional nature of this assignment.

He crushed the mop in the wringer while reviewing the personal decision he’d admitted to Biddle earlier that day. Heath’s mind was made up. He was ready to nail shut the pine box on this phase of his life, bury the work he’d been doing in an unmarked grave and move across the country. Short of going into witness protection, this was the only way to move on with his life.

Anyone closely associated with Heath was in danger if the criminals he’d sent to jail ever put two and two together. He wasn’t afraid for himself but concern for his parents was the reason he’d bought out their duplex and hurried them off to an early retirement in sunny Florida. The hurt in their voices when he refused their offers to visit during holidays was slowly choking an already weak relationship.

All Heath’s life, his folks had been perplexed by his sullen personality and working undercover only magnified his skepticism. Every day he moved further away from being the son they wanted, the son they deserved. This was not a life worth sharing and it was the very reason he didn’t dare reconnect with his biological sisters.

Heath hadn’t been much more than a toddler when the mother he couldn’t recall was murdered at the hands of their brutal father, sending two daughters and a son into the family court system to be scattered like wildflower seeds in a Texas whirlwind. He’d found an adoptive home, but nobody had wanted the older girls, Alison and Erin.

Twenty-five years later, Alison had somehow found his address and tried repeatedly to make contact. Her most recent letter was still in his backpack. He didn’t have the heart to write Return to Sender on another envelope.

The woman was a stranger, but she was still his sister and deserved his protection. He knew very little about her, she knew nothing about him, and as things stood today it had to stay that way.

He clenched his jaw as he acknowledged the key to his anger. It wasn’t so much the constant battle with criminals as it was the by-product, his growing anonymity. The past six years had taught Heath to be invisible, and he was tired of living like a phantom. He wanted his life back. He wanted to know his family.

“That’s what’s bugging me!” Heath said to himself, the revelation suddenly clear as he pushed the mop across the floor.

The thought struck him like a gun butt to the skull. Olivia Wyatt was the only thing standing between Heath and his future. As soon as this case was solved, he could move on with his life.

He’d crack that unreadable expression and get her to show her true colors no matter what it took. And he’d start right now.

Heath’s gaze swept the nearly dry floor, coming to rest on the row of lockers. His fingers twitched at the thought of rifling behind the doors that were padlocked. The men’s private area would look just like this, which meant there were at least fifty locks to pick. He had the tools and experience to give it a go, but time was his enemy. There was no telling what else in the place was kept under lock and key. With a transient clientele, that probably meant everything of value.

Female voices grumbled in the hallway.

“All clear!” he called. The door burst open with Velma, a red-lipped fireplug of a woman in the lead and a dozen more close behind.

“It’s about time.” She leaned her hip against the open door and held it wide for him to exit. “The kitchen is closed up for the night so grab your Bible and meet us in the big room. Miss Livvy’s expecting you.”

Before he could comment that he didn’t own a Bible and had no idea where to find the big room, the line of women had shuffled past him, headed toward the showers.

“Last one gets cold water,” Velma explained as the door closed in his face.

Heath stood alone in the hallway, not at all sure which way to turn but certain somebody would give him bossy instructions at any moment. Meanwhile, he simply took a few beats to appreciate the floor-to-ceiling strokes of color that brought the walls of the corridor to life.

Lavish green plants and a rainbow of flowers sprang from soil you would swear was damp from rain. Birds of yellow and scarlet perched on shaded limbs of tall trees. A lazy blue stream wound through the setting, splashing down layers of rock and over smooth stones. Sunny rays filtered through clouds casting shadows that swayed with the wind. The scene was breathing with primary colors but mostly it was…moving. Alive with motion.

He stared hard, shook his head. He really needed a good night’s rest.

Olivia turned a corner and headed Heath’s way. “You like?” She swept her hand toward the walls.

“I can’t believe I hardly noticed it the first time I passed through here,” he confessed.

“Yeah, you really have to stand still and take it in. Eventually, everything starts to move. It’s kinda creepy in the dark but still cool.”

Heath nodded, glad it wasn’t the lack of sleep getting the better of him. But this kind of talent had to be expensive. He spotted an opportunity, baited the trap.

“I’m surprised you can afford art like this on the tight budget Amos keeps reminding me about. It must have cost a small fortune.”

She waved away Heath’s concern. “Oh, the paint is donated and I do all the work myself.”

“You’re the artist?” Heath stared again at the walls.

“Oh, I don’t know about being an artist, but I do all the painting around here. I had some help with the exterior, but I did the inside by myself before we opened.”

Heath couldn’t recall another day in his life when he’d been caught off guard so many times in such a brief period. Either this woman was something special or he was slipping.

Whatever the answer turned out to be, it was just a job. A job standing between him and the rest of his life.

“I came to get you for Bible study,” Olivia explained.

“It’s been a long day. Can’t I get a pass since it’s my first night here?”

“Nice try, but I already saved you a seat up front.” A smirk lifted one corner of her mouth. “Right next to Amos.”

Heath was mesmerized by Olivia as she spoke to the small group. She perched on a folding chair in the common space they called the big room, sitting tall with one foot tucked beneath her. For half an hour she talked about the Book of Job in a way that made the man’s struggles come to life, like the scenes she’d painted on the walls in the hallway.

Until that moment Heath had viewed Job merely as one more character from the stories he’d been told during childhood. Noah built his ark, Moses parted the Red Sea and Lazarus returned from the dead. Those were little more than fairy tales to Heath. Still, he loved a good superhero.

But Olivia was presenting a flesh-and-blood man whose trust in God overcame the worst trials Satan had up his sleeve. She made a convincing argument for faith and it was tempting to buy into her perspective.

Heath would keep that in mind. Charisma was an excellent shield. The world was full of smooth-talking leaders with hidden agendas. A disapproving puff of air rushed past Heath’s lips at the aggravating thought.