Where Dreams Begin (12 page)

When he paused, Catherine tried not to stare, but he sounded as though he was working up his courage to ask her out, and she wanted to savor every second of it. She licked her lips and offered an encouraging smile.

“From what Dave told me,” Luke continued, “you two are running with the mural project. I don’t want to discourage you, but let me line up a suitable building before you begin any preliminary drawings.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. No, she corrected herself silently, what she’d hoped he would say. She made an attempt to shrug off her disappointment and rose to precede him into the outer office where Pam was now working at her computer.

They exchanged quick greetings, and then Catherine turned toward Luke. “You needn’t worry, I understand that you make the decisions here,” she assured him.

“That I do, but please don’t look so unhappy. I didn’t forbid you to do a mural, but we need to take our time and do it right.”

“Of course,” Catherine agreed, but she wished he was referring to something more personal than an art project.

Luke had left the center before Catherine realized that she’d neglected to ask his permission to place the new rugs in the hall, but when she again found kids seated on the cold floor by the bookcases, she felt justified in acting on her own. With so many hanging around idle, she easily enlisted some help.

Nick was performing tricks on his skateboard out front when Catherine went by with Polly and a tall boy with a wild mop of red curls who called himself Spike. Nick grabbed up his skateboard and followed.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Just to my car,” Catherine explained. “I found a good buy on some rugs, and they aren’t too heavy.”

Nick flexed his biceps. “So what if they are? I’ve got muscles.”

“Yeah, in your head,” Spike scoffed.

“You think you’re so smart? What’s fifty-six times twenty-eight?” Nick challenged.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

“It’s 1568,” Nick announced proudly.

“What is that, the one answer you know?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Catherine scolded softly. “If you can’t get along, Polly and I will carry the rugs ourselves, won’t we, Polly?”

“We sure will.” Polly twisted around to make a face at Nick, but he just laughed at her.

Catherine unlocked the back of her Volvo, and Nick slipped past Spike to grab the first of the rugs. He took a step back and rolled it up on his shoulder. “These going to Luke’s office?”

“No, the hall, but his office floor could sure use some help, couldn’t it?” Catherine glanced toward the nearby carpet warehouse. Luke’s office was a neat rectangle, so it wouldn’t be much of a challenge to purchase and install a remnant while he was away. She wondered if they had anything in a deep russet that would complement the walls.

She waited until Spike and Polly had picked up the other tightly rolled rugs, then slammed the rear door shut. “Have any of you seen Dave Curtis this morning?” she asked.

Spike shook his head and started off toward the hall with Polly and Nick trailing. “He’s got to be around someplace,” Nick answered. “You want me to find him?”

“Yes, please,” Catherine replied. She was sure Dave would think it a fine idea to carpet Luke’s office while he was away for the day. As soon as they had the rugs scattered in front of the bookcases, she explained her idea to Pam and then went to the carpet warehouse to survey the possibilities.

Dave Curtis had been every bit as enthusiastic as Catherine had anticipated, but with padding, the carpet project had taken longer than either had expected, and it was nearly three o’clock before she was ready to leave for home. When she entered the parking lot, she was amazed to find a slender young man leaning against her car. With long, black hair and sideburns, he resembled an Elvis impersonator, and it was all she could do not to laugh.

He was older than the homeless youth frequenting the center, and when she came within five feet of him, she noticed the name Ford embroidered above the left pocket on his blue work shirt. Immediately understanding who he was, she greeted him by name. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dolan.”

Ford shoved away from her car. He laced his hands together, showing off nails ringed with grime, and cracked his knuckles menacingly. “So, you’ve heard of me.”

He appeared to be immensely flattered, but Catherine wouldn’t repeat what she’d heard. His eyes were a pale watery blue that reminded her of a Weimaraner’s, except they lacked the big gray dog’s intelligent sparkle.

“Did you wish to speak with me?” she asked, but she remained at a wary distance.

“You could say that.” Ford reached into the pocket of his oil-stained jeans, withdrew a handful of shiny pink paper scraps and tossed them into the air. “Quit giving Violet your silly books, or I’ll just rip them up like I did the last one. Then I’ll come looking for you.”

As a large scrap drifted toward Catherine’s feet, she recognized an embossed letter from the title of the book Violet had been so thrilled to find. As much as she abhorred violence, she was sorely tempted to kick Ford in the balls for not only abusing Violet but good books as well.

“You’re an ignorant punk,” she exclaimed, “and while your pathetic threats might work on Violet, you don’t frighten me. If you really cared about Violet, instead of just your own miserable self, you’d be taking her to bookstores and buying her what she loves to read. You’re not clever enough to understand that, though, are you?”

Ford hunched his shoulders as he took a step toward her. “Are you calling me stupid?” His upper lip twitched, as though he had yet to master Elvis’s classic snarl.

“No, I’m calling you ignorant, and deliberately so, which is infinitely worse. Now get out of here and don’t come back.”

Ford clenched his fists at his sides. “I go where I choose, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Violet.”

Catherine wished she knew how to spit on the ground, but unfortunately, it was a skill she’d neglected to learn as a child. She was about to spray Ford with the fiery string of obscenities he so richly deserved when Luke drove into the parking lot. Ford recognized his black Subaru and took off at a run.

Catherine’s anger had fueled a brave front, but now her hands began to shake so badly she was unable to unlock her car. Embarrassed to be so stressed, she leaned back against the silver Volvo and made a concerted effort to gather her composure.

Luke sprang from his car and slammed the door. “Was that Ford Dolan?”

Catherine waited until he was beside her to reply in a husky whisper. “Yes, but I had things under control.” Yet even as she made that claim, tears stung her eyes. She quickly brushed them away. “He tore up the book Violet took with her. How can anyone be so mean?”

While she’d stubbornly denied it, she was obviously shaken, and Luke slipped his arm around her shoulders to offer an encouraging hug. “I warned you not to become involved with Violet, but I’m sorry Ford caught you out here alone. I swear I could kill that sorry son of a bitch.”

Catherine relaxed against him. Lean and tough, he was as solid as a concrete wall, and yet she could feel the anger coursing through him. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but she wouldn’t be embarrassed if one of their owners found her in Luke’s arms. Still, she wasn’t so lost in romantic daydreams that she could ignore the bitterness of his tone.

She glanced up and recoiled at the dark threat glowing in his eyes. “Forget Ford,” she advised, “and concentrate on teaching the young men you can reach how they should behave toward women, and teach the girls what every woman has a right to expect.”

“You know where kids are supposed to learn that wondrous ideal?”

Catherine nodded. “At home with loving parents, and these kids have neither.”

Luke sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Right, and that’s a lot to overcome. Fortunately, snakes like Ford Dolan have a way of coming to a very bad end on their own, so I won’t go looking for him. But the next time you’re here, let me walk you out to your car.

“Brooks is a common enough name that I doubt Ford can find your home telephone number, but if you receive any threatening calls, let me know immediately. I won’t let him intimidate you. Now are you sure you feel well enough to drive yourself home? I could drive your car and have Dave follow in mine.”

While it was a thoughtful offer, Catherine knew he would do the same for any volunteer. Determined to look out for her own welfare, she took a firm grip on her keys. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

This time, she succeeded in unlocking her door. Luke swung it open for her, then closed it and waved as she drove away. She’d reached the freeway before she remembered the new carpet in his office. With the confrontation with Ford to distract her, it was no wonder she’d failed to mention it, but she hoped he would laugh when he saw it rather than call her to complain.

Luke cursed as he crossed the parking lot. He was furiously angry with Ford Dolan for daring to upset Catherine, but he was even more disgusted with himself for not being there to prevent it. As he entered the office, he paused at Pam’s desk to explain what had happened.

“If Ford Dolan comes around here again, call the police.”

“I’ll be real happy to,” Pam replied. “Your messages are on your desk.”

“Thanks.” Luke took a couple of steps toward his office, then stopped to stare. “What the hell? Where did the new carpet come from?”

“It was on sale next door,” Pam informed him with a beguiling grin. “It’s woven from synthetic fibers and designed for use in high traffic areas, so it should wear like iron. How do you like it?”

The rug was a deep russet that blended perfectly with the newly painted walls. “I like it fine, but how did it get from next door in here?”

“Half a dozen of the boys carried it over. They looked like ants stealing peanut butter logs from a picnic. You know how they’re made with celery? Then Dave installed it.”

Luke nodded. “I know what peanut butter logs are. You can add raisins and call them frogs on a log if you like, but since when does Dave know how to lay carpet?”

“Since today, I guess. It looks like a professional job to me.”

“That it does, but I think you’re leaving out a significant detail. Was Mrs. Brooks behind this?”

Pam fluttered the papers on her desk in an apparent search for a missing document. “Nick said it was his idea, but she paid for it. She picked up a donation receipt just as you’d suggested. And by the way, she brought in a few other rugs for the hall.”

“What will the woman think of next?”

“Well, since you asked, now that you’ve classed up your office, mine could sure use a coat of paint. Shall I suggest it to her?”

“No, I’ll pencil it in on my calendar for the weekend.” Luke entered his office and then called over his shoulder. “Now the furniture in here looks like hell.”

“It always did, you just didn’t notice. If you like, I’ll keep an eye out for something better at a yard sale.”

“You do that.” Luke thumbed through the stack of messages piled on his desk. Several were from generous, but talkative, contributors, and he was in no mood to chat with them now.

“No mayhem to report?” he asked.

“None, sir, it was a remarkably calm day, as it always is when you leave me in charge,” Pam claimed smugly.

Luke glanced up at the clock. He had only a few minutes before the afternoon group session began, and he doubted he would be very effective. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and decided it needed to be cut, but he just never seemed to have the time.

“One final point of curiosity.” Luke slowed his pace by Pam’s desk on his way to the sanctuary. “Did anyone stop to consider it might be a good idea if I were consulted before purchasing carpet for my office? After all, it is my office, and I would swear that only this morning, Mrs. Brooks acknowledged the fact I’m paid to make the decisions here.”

“Everyone knows that,” Pam agreed. “But you’ve got too much to do, and carpet is such an insignificant thing. Besides, you always tell me to use my own judgment when you’re away. I thought it was a nice surprise.”

“It is, but…oh hell, never mind. I’m going to lead the group, then go home and run.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you look as though you ought to go home and take a long nap.”

“I do mind,” Luke replied, but when he walked into his condo, his bed looked a whole lot better to him than his running shoes. He meant to lie down for a few minutes, then call Catherine Brooks to make certain she’d made it home safely, but when he awoke, it was six o’clock Tuesday morning.

When Luke did call Catherine, it was late Tuesday afternoon, and he asked if he might stop by to see her that evening. Certain he must be upset about the new carpet, she tightened her grip on the receiver.

“You needn’t come all this way to yell at me. Everyone thought the carpet was a fine idea, and with you away, it seemed the perfect time to install it.”

Luke chuckled softly. “I hadn’t planned on yelling at you.”

“You hadn’t? Then why did you want to see me?”

“That’s an excellent question. Let’s just say we need to talk.”

She caught herself before again asking why, but as much as she would enjoy seeing him, she was still concerned something was amiss. Then she began to worry that something wasn’t. The last time he’d been there, she’d wanted him to stay, even if she hadn’t dared say so. What if the suggestion came from him this time?

She quickly slid into a chair at the breakfast table and tried not to choke. She wondered if she should invite him to come for dinner, but fearing that would be offering too much, she decided against it. She was just so dreadfully out of practice when it came to men, but if there was practice to be had with Luke, she definitely wanted it.

“Seven o’clock would be fine,” she managed smoothly, but as she hung up, she thought of Joyce’s continuing anguish over men and made a firm promise not to be as great a fool.

There was no milkshake in Luke’s hand when he arrived, and Catherine quickly offered coffee or tea. “I have soft drinks as well, and while I’m not sure what’s left in the liquor cabinet, there must be something.”