Sheltering Hearts (5 page)

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.”

T
HE 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 got 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.”

He turned his back on her to go sit behind his desk. Head down, he took out his checkbook. There was no point in arguing with him. He didn’t have much to give, anyway.

She’d have to find a new job, and there wouldn’t be a recommendation from Mr. Sills.

But first she’d have to make some phone calls. There had to be a way her group could help Simone.

D
ory called her closest friends, the other three women who made up the board of directors. She asked if they could meet for coffee—she’d had a very eventful day and needed their input and help. They agreed to get together at the McDonald’s near the location of their support group meetings.

Dory settled the kids in a booth with hamburgers for dinner and explained she had a meeting with Corsica, Mel and Paige. She quietly went over the events of the day as her friends listened. When she was finished she said, “The most important thing is to find Simone some help to get herself and her child out of town. And second, I’m going to have to find a job. I have a severance check and some unemployment benefits coming, but looking for work might cut into my volunteer time. Plus, I really can’t afford after-school day care without a job. Elizabeth, our newest volunteer, is very smart and dedicated—maybe she can help cover for me for a while.”

They were all silent for a moment. Paige finally said, “Dory, this
isn’t right. Your boss should have been the first one in that parking lot. Instead he’s firing
you
for going.”

“The least of my concerns right now,” she said. “We have to discuss if anything can be done for that woman and her child. And then I’ll get busy looking for a job.”

“I might have a suggestion,” Corsica said.

Dory gave a deep sigh. “Oh, I had hoped one of you might have heard of something. With all the effort we put into looking for available jobs for our single moms, I hoped something might turn up for me. What is it? I think you know I’ll do anything.”

“It’s a risk,” Corsica said. “It’s a new position, probably won’t pay as well as your cashier’s job, and it will take some finesse and time to work out health benefits. But I think it’s something you can throw your energy into with pride.” She shrugged. “Also, you’re perfect for it.”

They all glanced at each other, just waiting, wondering. “Well, what is it?” Dory finally asked.

Corsica slipped a hand inside her briefcase and pulled out a contract. “Up until this minute it didn’t look like the best deal in the world, but under the circumstances, it might be just right. I found a house—a small three-bedroom in Fortuna. The owner is willing to rent it for a pittance plus taxes if the renter is willing to improve the property by cleaning it up, getting it back on its feet so it can be sold eventually. Maybe the time is right,” she said.

“For?” Mel Sheridan asked.

“For opening a center,” she said. Then she looked pointedly at Dory. “With a full-time director. After all, this is what we’ve been working toward for three years. We can discuss salary and get busy on a grant that will provide health benefits for Dory and the kids.”

Mel grinned. “And Dr. Michaels and I can provide some medical
coverage in the interim. We should actually look into whether you can keep your coverage from the grocery store until you can replace it with coverage from the foundation.”

It took Dory a minute to respond. “Are you serious? Do you think I’m qualified?”

“You’re completely qualified,” Corsica said. “You’ll grow with the position, certainly. But you’re the reason we’re all headed in this direction. No matter what happened to your job, you have always been the perfect choice. After all, this whole operation is built primarily on the model of the foundation that helped you. Yes, Dory. You’re the one. The question is, can you afford to take a chance? This is nonprofit work—it’s hard and it’s a gamble.”

She smiled at them. “It’s going to work,” she said. “We’ve always known that because there’s a desperate need, it has to work.”

They talked a little about what they could afford from their treasury for salary and rent and improvements for an old house that needed a lot of work.

Dory found herself laughing. “Why do I feel like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders when, truthfully, it’s hardly enough money to live on? I mean, I don’t want more salary. I want our funds to go where they’re needed most—to the women and children. But I should be crying when instead, I feel like singing!” Then she laughed some more. “I’m insane, that’s what!”

“Or maybe it’s because you no longer have the pressure of working for an ungrateful, selfish boss,” Mel said. “Instead you’ll be working for something you can believe in. Take it from someone who is often paid in produce—it’s a privilege to be able to do work you love, work you believe in.”

“Really, it could be so much worse,” Dory said. “My uncle Joe left
me that little house free and clear. I just have to pay the taxes, insurance and utilities. If I didn’t have an old car to keep running, I’d have hardly any expenses besides food, clothing and… Oh! Day care. School will be out soon and I have to do something about summer!”

“Let’s look around for a good community summer program for Sophie and Austin,” Corsica suggested. “It won’t be full-time, but they’re well-behaved kids. Maybe they can help around the office sometimes. And if we have a center, we have a place for our volunteers to meet, a place for women in need to go, a place for our support groups and classes.”

“Oh, and as you know, I’ve been at work on the agenda for our third annual conference,” Dory said. “It’s going to be better than the last two. Those workshops are vital—they changed my world. Actually, I need to meet with the conference committee soon, get a report on their progress, find out who they have in mind for the workshop leaders and instructors. But first I have to find a way to get a young woman to Colorado, back to her mother, where she and her baby can be safe.”

“We have a little money in the emergency fund,” Mel said. “This sounds like an emergency to me. Why don’t I get Simone a ticket on my charge card and the organization can reimburse me later?”

“Do you mind? Because if you can do that, I can call Simone and tell her.” Then she shrugged. “And I’m free to drive her to the airport in Redding—the car is fixed and I…” She laughed. “I don’t have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Dory, my love, I don’t think you’re going to have a real day off for a very long time!” Corsica said with a laugh.

D
ORY SPENT THE REST
of the week at the old small three-bedroom house in Fortuna that was to become her group’s new resource
center. Along with some volunteers who were as giddy with excitement as she was, they cleaned, painted, made minor repairs and scrounged around secondhand shops for essential furniture. Mel donated the computer from her Virgin River clinic—it was time for them to upgrade their equipment anyway. The biggest expense they had was finding and buying filing cabinets that actually locked.

They found an old desk for her office, which would occupy one of the bedrooms, a sofa and a couple of chairs for the living room, a big old distressed-oak table for the dining room and a bunch of mismatched chairs to sit around it. The stove still functioned and Mel’s husband found them a used refrigerator that worked. Dory had asked him what it cost and he’d said, “Don’t worry about it—it was practically a donation.” She knew that meant he’d purchased it.

At the end of the school day she would fetch Sophie and Austin and take them back to the house/center, where they would help. At six and eight, they weren’t the most efficient helpers, but they tried, and at least they weren’t in expensive after-school day care.

Having a phone installed was very important to their operation and Corsica managed to get it done quickly, pulling in all her favors. The first call Dory made was to Colorado, where she spoke to Simone at her mother’s house. The young woman was safe for the time being, but of course she had many needs, the most essential of which was some counseling, a support group of some kind—any available help to get her stronger, more sure of herself and independent, so she didn’t run the risk of repeating this disaster with yet another toxic relationship. Dory spent most of their conversation trying to point Simone in the right direction, encouraging her to search out support groups. All she could think was that nonprofit assistance to single mothers was needed everywhere. With the
economy in such a mess, social services were tighter than ever and what government agencies considered flab—usually assistance for women and children—was always the first to go.

At the end of the week the crowning glory came when Jack Sheridan and John Middleton presented Dory with a sign that would fit over the porch. “The Single Mother’s Resource Center.”

Dory stood in the street in front of the house—all cleaned up, some of it painted, the ratty grass and flower beds trimmed and weeded—and she cried. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe it. It’s so beautiful!”

“The sign’s not exactly beautiful,” Jack said. “It’s homemade—but the price was right. Free. We didn’t want to spend money on signage when there are women and children who need basic stuff.”

Mel handed her a small box, and she opened it to find business cards bearing her name, the address and phone number for the center, and a small list of available services. They were simply beautiful to Dory. “Where did you get these?”

“I signed up for one of those online Web sites that offer five hundred free business cards. Bet you go through them in no time. And John just about has the center’s Web site ready—take a look at it in the morning and if you have any tweaks, let him know.”

“This is really happening,” Dory said. “After three years of doing the best we could, we actually have a real, live, nonprofit resource center.”

“Dory, we’ve gotten a lot done in three years, and now with more space, more volunteers and more time, we’ll help more people. Thank you for bringing us this vision.”

“Thank the Zoë Institute,” she said. “Without them, I don’t know where I’d be today. I sure wouldn’t be holding business cards with my name and the title Director on them.”

D
ORY FELT SHE’D HAD
one of the most productive weeks of her life, and for some reason she couldn’t explain, she’d had no sense of doom over the loss of her steady job. With overtime she had earned a little more than she was making as the director of the center, but not enough more to make it worth putting up with Mr. Sills’s constant criticism and haranguing. And Corsica was so right—even though she had hardly begun as the director, she was already so much more fulfilled, so much happier.

Dory had left one of the three bedrooms in that little house empty of furniture. She and the rest of the board of directors had been hauling around donated nonperishable food items and supplies in their cars for women in need, but now she could create a bona fide, well-stocked food closet. The first thing she planned to do next week was visit some of the big-box stores like Costco and ask for donations on a large scale to stock that closet. She’d promise them good press and a mention on the Web site. She would hit all the stores, including Target and Albertsons, and she’d even swallow her pride and check with Mr. Sills’s grocery in Fortuna. She’d be lucky if he didn’t spit in her eye, but this wasn’t about her. She’d ask anyway.

But the next thing on her agenda was to make red beans and rice for Sunday dinner with Clay. She’d been too busy to think about it much and was surprised to realize she wasn’t stressed out about it at all, but rather very excited. She’d been on the run so much all week, she hadn’t even seen him to wave across the yard. With her time divided between work and The Single Mother’s Resource Center, she didn’t hang around the house with time on her hands much.

The kids were so jazzed about having Clay to dinner, they helped her by cleaning their rooms and doing a few chores around the house. And to her surprise, Clay must have been looking forward
to it, too. He stopped by her house at around noon on Sunday and said, “You never told me what time.”

“Would five be too early for you? I know you bachelor types start your evenings at ten at night. You probably haven’t eaten earlier than nine in years. But the kids—”

“Five is great. Is there a wine that goes with red beans?”

She just laughed at him. “Clay, do I look like someone who knows anything about wines? I couldn’t tell you. I usually drink milk with the kids. We’re keeping our bones strong.”

“I drink a lot of milk, too, but for the first time you have me to dinner, I’m going to find something special.”

“Knock yourself out,” she said. “Now, get out of here. I’m not ready for company. I’m cleaning and I look a wreck.”

Without smiling, he said, “No, you don’t, Dory. You look as good as ever.”

She just shoved him out the door. “I’ll be cleaned up by five—now, go!”

When he came back, he brought with him a six-pack of imported beer, nice and cold. “There is no special wine for red beans,” he announced. “I checked with a couple of people and both recommended this.”

“I can’t remember when I last had a beer,” she said. “Do we have one now? Or does this go with dinner?”

The kids came screaming out of their bedrooms before he could answer. They practically tackled him, they were so excited. He’d never been inside her house before, had never seen their bedrooms, and they wanted to show him all their stuff. They wanted to play with him as if their mother had invited one of
their
friends from school for dinner rather than an adult she was looking forward to
sharing an evening with, also. But he grinned while one pulled at each hand and said, “It probably goes with the beans, but tell you what—let’s save it for later. After things…you know…quiet down…”

And she thought,
Excellent idea.

The food was delayed while the kids dominated Clay’s attention. Then over dinner Austin and Sophie talked about everything going on at school, and their excitement over signing up for T-ball and Little League. They even brought up the resource center and how they’d helped their mom with cleaning, painting and moving furniture. “She’s the boss, you know,” Sophie announced proudly.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” he said, just as proudly. Then to Dory he said, “That means I’m going to see you guys around here even less than before. Being the boss carries responsibility. How many jobs is that now?”

Dory was frozen for a second. “Oh, Clay, I haven’t seen you since that day at the grocery store! Oh, my gosh, so much has happened, and you don’t know any of it! First of all, we had some emergency money in our fund. Mel Sheridan is our CFO—she’s in charge of the money. Her husband, Jack, says we couldn’t have found anyone better. He says prying a nickel out of her is harder than getting a— Oh, I’ll save that. But trust me, it’s colorful. Anyway, she got a plane ticket for that woman we rescued, and she and her baby are safe with her mother in Colorado. And Corsica Rios, the social worker who really started the group, found us a house for an office and center, so we’re kind of moved in and have been fixing up. We spent all week hunting for used furniture and donated paint. We cleaned, weeded and did whatever fixing up was needed—the kids helped, didn’t you, guys?”