Stuck in the Middle (33 page)

“Here ya go, ma’am,” a deep voice said. “Lemme git that for ya.”

Joan smiled with relief into the stubble-covered face that grinned down at her. “I appreciate that.”

As the man heaved the bag into the back of the truck, Joan turned to survey the work. The residents of Shadow Ridge had surprised them, outnumbering Joan’s group two to one. True, most of them preferred the role of spectator, and a few even brought chairs out of their apartments to sit on their porches and watch. But some pitched in and worked right alongside Joan’s friends. Kneeling, Eve and Marissa worked the ground with hand shovels alongside four women. Pots of white and yellow mums stood nearby ready to be planted. Other women spread out all around the grounds filling green garbage bags with trash. Even a couple of men, like her helper, worked alongside Ken, Ryan, Gordy, and Nick as they replaced bolts and attached the new swings. The new backboard leaned against the existing metal pole, ready to be mounted.

But what sent a thrill through Joan were the children. There were dozens, many hanging back shyly to watch the working adults. But most joined in with the garbage and flower details, while a group of boys eagerly handed tools up to the men fixing the swing set. A few were even helping Joan.

She turned a smile on three girls who stood nearby. “Come on, girls. Let’s grab another bag.”

Just then a car pulled into the parking lot and two women got out. One had a fancy-looking camera slung around her neck. Joan smoothed a hand over her ponytail. Looked like the newspaper had decided to cover the event. Good. The businesses that donated material deserved a little free publicity.

“Hello.” The driver came toward Joan with an outstretched hand. “Pam Baker, from the
Advocate-Messenger
.”

“Joan Sanderson.” Joan removed her work glove to shake the woman’s hand. “I’m glad you came by.”

“Sanderson. You’re the one who called.” Her gaze swept over the working people as she flipped open a notebook. “You’ve got quite a little project going on here. What made you decide to do this?”

Her pen hovered over her pad, waiting to record Joan’s words. What should she say? That she was bored and needed something to fill her time? That she thought church should be more than a Sunday morning lesson? That she wanted to spread God’s love around her community? Tori would surely think she’d become a fanatic, that Ken had rubbed off on her.

Joan looked down at the girls. Stains covered their clothing, and their hair didn’t look all that clean. But one of them gave her a tentative smile and slipped a hand shyly into hers.

Who cared what Tori thought?

Facing the reporter, she raised her chin. “We’re Christians. We want to make a difference in people’s lives. What better place to start than on a playground?”

Ken tightened a nut, trying to ignore the photographer’s camera. It unnerved him, having that thing pointed his way, clicking over and over while he worked. The kids loved it, though, and wore huge grins whenever the lens swung toward them.

If only Mike had showed up. Ken dropped by Thursday afternoon to tell him about the cleanup project, and he said he’d be here. But so far he hadn’t made an appearance.

Ken glanced across the playground at Joan. She stood beside the reporter while Brittany explained something. A little girl clutched her hand. Standing there with a stray strand of hair blowing in the slight breeze, smiling down at the child, Joan must be the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Dude, you done up there?” Ryan, holding the ladder on which Ken stood, broke into his thoughts.

“Yeah, that’s the last one. I think we’re ready for the paint.”

The faces of their young helpers lit with excitement.

“I want to paint!”

“Me too! Can I paint too?”

Gordy held up a hand. “I’ve got four brushes, so you’ll have to take turns. And nobody on the ladder except me, you hear?”

While they worked out which four got to paint first, Ken climbed down. As he jumped from the second rung to the ground, he noticed a few older kids coming around the side of the building. They must be the same ones he’d seen a few weeks ago, with the baggy jeans and T-shirts with gang designs on them. Today there were three boys around thirteen or fourteen years old and . . . and Mike.

Mike caught sight of Ken and a smile split his face for a second. Then he glanced up at the boy beside him and the smile disappeared, replaced by the same bored, insolent expression the older kid wore. The leader of their little gang, he puffed on a cigarette as he crossed the grass toward them.

“Mike,” Ken called, ignoring the others. “Glad you made it.”

They approached the playground. Beside Ken, Ryan was sizing up the three older ones. The leader noticed and insolently sucked on his cigarette, blowing out a long, slow stream of smoke.

Ryan’s eyelids narrowed. “A little young to be smoking, aren’t you?”

Looking him straight in the eye, the kid took another puff. “I’m old enough.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

The boy’s glance slid toward one of his buddies and back to Ryan. “Bob.”

“Bob, huh?” Ryan cocked his head. “You spell that with one O, or two?”

Ken turned away to hide his laughter. It took Bob a little longer to work out the insult, but when he did, he glared at Ryan and whirled to march away.

“Oh, come on, Bobby, I’m just kidding around. You ever hung a basketball goal?”

The kid stopped, his scowl deepening. “No.”

“Neither have I.” Ryan stepped forward and clapped Bob on the back. “Why don’t you put that thing out and come help me figure it out?”

Bob stared at him. For a moment Ken thought he would leave, but then the scowl slipped a little. He dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it with a beat-up tennis shoe. “Can’t be that hard.”

“That’s what I thought, till I got a look at the instructions.” Ryan put an arm around Bob’s shoulder and steered him toward the basketball court, winking at Ken over his head. “I hope one of you guys can speak a foreign language, because I swear these instructions are not written in English.”

The two older boys followed Bob and Ryan, leaving Mike beside Ken.

“Hey,” Ken said. “Come here a minute. I want to introduce you to someone.”

In Bob’s absence, the insolent expression fell away from Mike’s face. He looked around expectantly as he walked beside Ken. “You didn’t bring Trigger?”

“Are you kidding?” Ken laughed. “Nobody would get any work done with him around. He’d pester us to death trying to get us to throw his ball.”

“I’d do it.”

Ken rubbed his buzzed head. “I know you would. Tell you what. Maybe your mom will let you come over to my house one day next week to help me build some shelves. Then you can throw the ball for Trigger till your arm falls off.”

He grinned. “Alright!”

Joan saw them approaching and excused herself, leaving the reporter in Brittany’s capable hands. She met them halfway across the grass.

“Joan, I want you to meet somebody. This is Mike Lassiter, a friend of mine. Mike, this is Joan Sanderson. She lives next door to me.”

The boy’s chest swelled with pride at the introduction. He stuck his hand out like a perfect gentleman. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Joan’s lips twitched as she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Mike.”

Mike’s gaze slid up to Ken, a shrewd look in his eyes. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Joan’s face went red.

Ken put a hand up to hide his mouth from Joan and in a stage whisper said, “Not yet, but I’m working on it, so behave yourself.”

Blushing, Joan shook her head. “You two are trying to embarrass me.” She walked away, but not before giving Ken a coy smile.

As he watched her walk away, Ken filled his lungs. Joan was one pretty woman.

“You like her,” Mike teased, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned down at the boy and shoved his shoulder playfully. “So don’t mess it up for me.”

Joan slumped against the chair back, fatigue clawing at her body. She looked down the table and saw tired expressions on the face of every member of the CCCS group. That was the name Brittany dubbed them for the reporter, the Christ Community Church Singles.

A server brought a tray of sizzling fajitas to the next table, and the spicy onion smell revived her a bit. She had suggested Casa del Sol, where Rosa worked part-time, when everyone said they wanted to get something to eat. Rosa could use the extra tip money to tide her over until she found a job in Las Vegas.

“Look at the smiles on those kids’ faces.” Eve held her digital camera toward Gordy so he could check out the little screen. She looked as tired as Joan felt, but also as happy. “They’re going to have so much fun on that playground.”

“I didn’t want to leave,” Brittany complained. “They looked so sad, especially Shawneda. She wanted me to do her nails like mine.” Brittany held up a hand. “’Course, they’re a sight right now. I’m almost ashamed to take these things to church tomorrow.”

“We ought to do something else for those kids,” Crystal said. “We could have a sleepover at the church or something.”

Brittany straightened. “Or a tea party!”

“Yeah,” Gordy said, “the guys would love that.”

Ryan tore the paper off a straw and rolled it into a tight wad between his fingers. “Ken and I are going by there next Thursday afternoon to shoot a few hoops with some of the older boys.”

Beside Joan, Ken nodded. His arm rested casually across the back of her chair, mostly because he was on the end and the position let him more easily face the rest of the table. But she hoped he had another reason for invading her hula hoop.

Marissa seemed to be having her own hula hoop invaded by Ryan. And she didn’t seem to mind either. She didn’t blush when she spoke this time. “What are we going to do next? We came up with some good ideas at our first meeting.”

Where was the list? Joan couldn’t remember what she did with it. She shook her head, too tired to think. “I have them written down. Somewhere.”

Rosa arrived with baskets full of warm tortilla chips and spicy salsa. Her eyes slid toward Ken, and then she wagged her eyebrows at Joan as she set a basket on the table in front of her.

“Whatever we decide,” Nick said, “I’d like it to help somebody in need. You know, like collecting winter coats for the homeless, or food for the rescue mission, that kind of thing.”

Rosa placed the other basket at the opposite end of the table. “If you want to help hungry people, go to Juarez.” She put a hand to her chest. “My family, they are not hungry because my Luis sends money to feed them.” She beamed with pride, then her face became sad. “But some are not so lucky there. Many children go hungry.”

A spark of interest flared in Joan as Rosa’s words sunk in. Hungry children in Mexico, maybe even people Rosa grew up with? How could she stand the thought?

Joan straightened in the chair. “Rosa, what kind of help would those people need? I mean, what could we do?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ken studying her. The rest of the CCCS group fell silent, all of them waiting for Rosa’s answer. A glance around the table told Joan that several of them had the same idea that was beginning to form in her mind.

“Ai, Joan, they need everything.” Rosa waved a hand. “Food. Clothes.” Her gaze slipped to Ken. “Medicines. And houses. Many have no place to live in. Others, they sometimes fall down. Their children sleep in . . .
como se dice
. . .” She waved a hand in the air, searching. “Hutch?”

“You mean huts?” Ryan asked. “Or shacks?”

“
Sí,
like that.” She shook her head sadly. “Is very poor, my old home.”

Joan caught Eve’s eye.

Excitement lit Eve’s face as she leaned toward Joan. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Nick’s eyebrows drew together. “You mean taking up a collection of food and stuff to send down to Mexico?”

Joan and Eve grinned at one another. Joan shook her head, enthusiasm chasing away the last of her fatigue. “I was thinking more along the lines of delivering those things ourselves.”

Crystal gasped. “You mean plan a trip to Mexico?”

“That’s a terrific idea,” Marissa exclaimed.