Argosy Junction (15 page)

Matt was desperate to get Patience’s wide eyes from the screen until their movie began. “Hey look Patience, see the projector flickering up there?”

Patience turned and watched the images in the little box overhead while the previews finished. Then, much to everyone’s embarrassment, Patience exclaimed in surprise, “They’re
kissing
back there!”

Lane glanced back and saw two teenagers wrapped around each other, swapping spit in a most vulgar way. She threw the annoyed couple a freezing look and said louder than necessary, “And I thought this was supposed to be a
G
rated film.”

Matt coughed trying to avoid laughing outright. The girl made a snide comment, and before Matt or Lane could respond, a large burly man two seats over, growled, “Take your make-out session elsewhere before I call the management.”

The kids might have argued, but an usher started up the side aisle with a flashlight. Both teens stood and scurried down the steps and out the door. Before Patience could ask what happened, the movie began.

Instantly they were transported into the imaginary world of kings, queens, and magical forests. George MacDonald’s
Lost Princess
was swept from the palace under the dark cloak and through the forest, and Patience was swept into another world with her. It was more enjoyable for Matt to watch Patience enjoy the movie, than it was to watch it himself.

The child watched the entire film in full animation. When the little girls threw a fit or whined her face screwed up into an expression of distaste. When frightened, her eyes grew wide and afraid. When the girls learned their lessons, Patience nodded sagely, and at the end, she hugged herself as the little girls rushed to meet their parents once more.

“Can we watch it again?” she cried as the credits rolled.

“We’ll try to come again before you go home.”

“Promise?”  Blue eyes gazed up at him, full of earnestness.

“I promise.”

They left the Cineplex and took a taxi to the mission where Matt’s church ran a shelter for the homeless. The huge old hotel had been subdivided into rooms that could hold hundreds of people. The business card passes that Matt and many others from his church and surrounding churches passed to local indigents, gave instant admittance to anyone who had one. They tried to fill eighty percent of the shelter every night with people holding cards before allowing those who lined up out front to enter. They required no proof of need, and sometimes people took advantage of a free room in a large city, but the mission chose to allow non-carded guests on a first come, first served basis.

Matt showed Lane and Patience the dining area, the kitchens, and the tiny rooms on the first floor. A single flower in each room fascinated Lane. “Why flowers?”

“One of the ladies at our church is an elderly woman—very wealthy. She provides the flowers. She says that the homeless need beauty too.”

They left with fifty cards for Patience to disburse along the way to Matt’s house. Kayla, the director, made Patience promise to give away all the cards. “We’ll give Matt more for you tomorrow at church if you give away all of your cards tonight.”

Matt ignored Lane’s quizzical looks and led them from the building, around the corner, and to the subway station. Patience passed out her cards the whole way there. One woman tried to inveigle a second card from the little girl, but Matt intervened. “No. Come on, Patience.”

The woman screamed obscenities after them, but Matt just ushered his guests down the escalators and onto the platform. “The next subway comes through in six minutes. Stay away from those people there and there. The rest are fine. It’s early yet.”

As Patience passed out cards to everyone around her, Lane asked about the woman. “Why didn’t you let her have one for her friend?”

“It’s rarely for a friend and if she shows up with a friend, they’ll usually let the friend in without a card. The street people use them for bartering. They’re like gold out here. Two full meals, a bed, a shower— that’s worth a lot to most of these people.”

“Ugh. How sad to be reduced to selling charity.”

Matt hadn’t thought of it that way, but the trains rolled in causing him to call Patience to their side. “Too many people getting on and off. We can’t see you.”

“I gave one to everyone anyway. Those guys by the bathrooms laughed at me and told me to go away.”

Matt saw them and cringed. They must have exited the bathroom just as Patience got close. “That’s good that they didn’t take them. They don’t need them.”

“They need clothes that fit like the boy at the park. Their pants are falling off too.”

~*~*~*~

Carol and Jake were enchanted with Patience. She told them about her adventures in the city, about their trip from Montana, and about Matt’s days on the ranch. Her animated speech patterns and her frank commentaries were different from anything the Rushbys had ever encountered.

At first, Matt was very self-conscious having Lane in their apartment. The five-room flat wasn’t even twice the size of Lane’s suite at the Towers. The stairwells were dingy and battered with age and careless maintenance. They’d walked the three blocks to his house from the subway in relative silence.

Matt watched Lane take in his world slowly and cautiously. Had he exaggerated? Kids loitered around streetlights and shouted insults to other kids cloistered around other streetlights. Old men shuffled along the sidewalk and clutched their brown bag covered bottles, as though expecting someone to snatch it at any moment. Mothers yelled at their children from apartment windows and most of the kids shouted back or ignored them. Music, or what passed for it in that neighborhood, blared from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

His parents were friendly hosts, and he could see that Lane liked them, but they were different from anyone she’d ever met. He compared his home to hers and found it wanting. From cluttered shelves of knickknacks that seemed to do little more than cover empty spaces, to the continual drone of an unwatched TV set, the life of Jake and Carol Rushby was diametrically opposed to the life of the Argosy family. As he watched her, he saw that Lane finally realized that Matt fit in that difference.

Jake grilled burgers on a hibachi on the balcony while Carol mixed a boxed pasta salad in the kitchen. Matt and Patience played video games, and Lane tried to help Matt’s mom, but since there was nothing for her to do, she watched. He didn’t know if he should leave Patience to play alone or let Lane get comfortable without his help—if she would get comfortable.

“So Lane, have you always lived on a sheep ranch?”

Carol worked hard to make Lane feel at home. She asked questions, listened to stories, and told tales about Matt’s childhood. His mom was trying too hard. Matt heard the strained tones in both women’s voices and left Patience battling the dragons alone.

“You know what you two women have in common?” Matt popped an olive in his mouth while he waited before answering his rhetorical question. “You both hate Shakespeare.”

“Not when
you
read it.”

Both women laughed. Something about the unified response broke down the invisible barrier between Montana’s countryside and Rockland’s inner city. Lane snatched an olive and glanced at Carol who instantly read her mind. Matt dodged flying olives until he eventually caved. “Uncle, already!”

Lane eyed Carol with a look of relief on her face. “I didn’t think he’d give in before we ran out of olives, but there are two left!”

Carol picked one up as though she intended to eat it and then lobbed it at Matt’s retreating back. She missed. Lane grabbed the last one and zinged it at Matt’s head. He swatted his ear as it whacked it and then stared at the olive on the floor.

“You cheat! You little—”

Lane hid behind his mother and begged for forgiveness. Something in her tone told Matt that she wasn’t as serious as she tried to make him believe. However, before any of them could plot retribution, Jake came in carrying a plate of burgers and stepped on an olive squishing it into the carpeting as he walked.

“What the—what is an olive doing on the floor? Hey, there are—Carol! We have company!”

Lane peeked around from behind Carol and pointed to Matt. “He started it!”

Jake growled good-naturedly and demanded that Carol and Matt clean up the mess. He winked at Lane and told her she was lucky she was a guest, sending Lane into an uncharacteristic fit of giggles. Before Lane could respond, her cell phone rang.

“Oh, it’s my father. He’s probably giving me his flight info for tomorrow. I’ll be right back. Go ahead and eat. Please.”

Matt made Patience a plate of food and took it to her seat in front of the TV. “Eat up Ima.”

Several minutes later, Lane punched the TV off and handed Patience the phone. “It’s Daddy.”

“You ruined my game!”

“Patience! Daddy is on the phone, it’s dinner time, the game is over. When you’re done talking, come to the table.”

Patience seemed to snap to attention and realize her surroundings.” Daddy? Oh, the phone. Hey, who brought me food?”

Lane rolled her eyes and sat back at the table. Matt noticed a change in her, but kept silent. Something was up, and she’d tell him when she was ready. Meanwhile, he preferred to eat his hamburgers hot, so he focused on his burger and pasta salad.

After the meal was over, Lane insisted on doing the dishes. Carol tried to argue, and she put up quite a fuss, but eventually Matt said, “Mom, I think it’s just what people do in Montana. She’s trying to say thank you, and I think we have to let her. I’ll help.”

“Can we take Patience down to the fried ice cream shack?”

Lane raised an eyebrow at the idea of fried ice cream, but nodded. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

Patience raced to the door and jabbered all the way down the hall and stairs until Lane and Matt couldn’t hear her anymore. Matt watched Lane absently scrape plates into the trash, rinse them, and then stack them for washing. As the sink filled with water, he noticed the same odd look on her face that she’d had earlier.

He turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and dried her hands. Pulling her from the kitchen, he pushed her gently onto the couch and sat opposite her, facing her. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Well nothing’s wrong actually; it’s just a mix up.”

“Okay—what kind of mix up?” He hated that the dread he felt was audible.

Lane shook her head. “No really, it’s no big deal. I came a week early. Daddy won’t be here until next Sunday and then the convention is that week. He’s bringing Tad too.”

“You’re staying another week?”

She shook her head again. “I don’t know. Daddy said I could, but he also said that if I wanted to come home I could just drive back whenever I wanted. I think Mom misses Patience, and three weeks away from her mother the first time she leaves home is a long time.” She paused calculating in her head. “A little over three weeks, actually.

Matt knew the disappointment he felt showed. At first, he couldn’t believe the news that they might be another week in Rockland. However, Patience made the proposition impossible.

“Is there any way—nah. Never mind. So when will you go back?”

“Anyway what? You don’t think I
want
to go back do you? When Daddy said the dates were off, I thought it was like vacation savings time. Roll back time and get a free week, but then I thought about Patience. Daddy says she’ll be okay, but—”

Matt played with a loose thread on the couch and nodded as she spoke. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Frustrated, he jerked the thread and watched with satisfaction as it snapped free from the cushion.

Lane leaned toward him trying to read his face. He looked up again, schooling his features into understanding and agreement, while fighting the desire to ask her to stay anyway. “You don’t want me to go. That’s a nice feeling.”

Her hair snagged on the back cushion of the couch reminding him of the previous night. He coiled it around his finger once more and smiled at her. “It’s selfish of me, and I know you have to, but no, I don’t want you to go. I was content with just next week, but now knowing it could have been two more makes one week like both a lifetime and a split second at the same time.”

She tugged at her hair. “I need to go do those dishes, Matt.”

Matt, however, didn’t let go. He tugged her closer until their eyes were a few short inches apart. “I know you have to go, but if I can think of a way—” Not knowing how to finish his thought, Matt kissed her nose and uncoiled her hair from his hand.

He stood, offering her the same hand and helped her from the couch. Something about his actions seemed to confuse her, but Matt chose to ignore it. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a dishcloth, soaked it, wrung it out, and started to wipe down the table.

Several seconds ticked by, before Matt realized that Lane hadn’t followed. She stood, where he’d left her, arms crossed, and looking seriously perturbed. Flinging the dirty dishcloth into the sink, he retraced his steps and stood before her.

“What?”

“I so want to slap you.” The edge to Lane’s voice was something he’d only heard when she spoke of Josiah Gideon or certain members of the
Brethren
.

“Hey, hey—” His tones were intended to be soothing, but Lane’s fists clenched at her sides as she glared at him. “What?” Matt’s voice grew exasperated. “I get it, you’re ticked. Care to tell me why?”

Her chocolate eyes seemed to boil over with anger and to his astonishment, humiliation. “Are you attracted to me?”

The question caught him off guard. “Well, yeah.” His tone made the answer sound more like, “Well duh!”

“Since when?” Her voice didn’t cool as he’d expected. She seemed, if anything, angrier.

“Since you handed me a roll of toilet paper and told me not to leave it to decorate the Montana prairie.”

“Do not mock me. Did you ever intend to tell me this?”

Now Matt was thoroughly confused. He’d assumed she was angry about his apparent affection, but now she seemed annoyed that he hadn’t announced it. “Well, sure, but—”