Where Dreams Begin (8 page)

“I recall that conversation vividly,” Luke replied, “but, Mrs. Brooks—”

“I understand your concern,” Catherine interrupted, “but now I have a question about something else.”

Luke turned back toward the scattered heaps of books and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m almost afraid to ask what it is.”

Catherine ignored his sarcasm. “I hadn’t stopped to consider this, and I should have, but Rafael just made a crack about some of the kids not being able to read. Is anyone doing any tutoring here to enhance the kids’ chances of getting good jobs or a GED?”

“Education isn’t our focus. The city libraries sponsor literacy programs, and they’re readily available through adult education in many schools.”

Catherine watched the muscles tighten along his jaw in a clear warning that she was treading on dangerous ground, but the idea was too good to abandon. “If they aren’t filling out job applications, the kids are sitting here all day rapping with their friends and playing games. Wouldn’t an opportunity to improve their reading skills be a worthwhile alternative?”

“What about math?” Luke countered. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that their academic skills are lousy across the board?”

Before Catherine could respond, Rafael flung open the door and yelled, “Fight!”

Nick, Max and Polly bolted for the door, as did the other teens in the hall, but Luke still managed to sprint by them. Catherine was reluctant to follow, but then, believing the situation might call for a cooler head than Luke possessed, she forced herself to go on out into the courtyard.

Dave Curtis was already there, but he was too busy struggling to keep the fight from escalating into a brawl to break it up. Kids who had been sitting out front on the sanctuary steps were streaming into the courtyard, but the shouts and cries echoing against the stone buildings were already deafening.

Catherine had seen fights at school, but this wasn’t a pair of surly boys who had gotten into a scuffle, these were girls. Sheila was a tall, thin African American whose dreadlocks bounced wildly about her head like Medusa’s snakes. Frankie was short, but the blonde sporting a buzz cut was solidly built. Both girls wore overalls, and each used the other’s straps to haul her opponent close for a vicious slap and then hurl her away.

As the girls pummeled and kicked each other, a red-haired boy near the office building took bets. Other kids were screaming encouragement to their favorite, while some just shouted colorful curses. Volunteers, who had been sorting clothing in the Sunday school building, ran for the parking lot, while Pam Strobble stood on the office steps writing down names in a notebook.

“Break it up!” Luke shouted as he shoved his way through the crowd. He took an elbow to the eye as he grabbed for the back of Frankie’s overalls, but he managed to push her away and form a muscular wall between her and Sheila.

“There’s to be absolutely no fighting here at Lost Angel,” Luke announced in a voice loud enough to carry clear down the block. “Both of you know that.”

Sheila raised her fists and danced around like a boxer ready to go another round. “We weren’t fighting. I’m just teaching the bitch not to hit on my man, Jamal.”

“Liar. Who’d want that creep?” Frankie screamed back.

Polly moved close to Catherine. “We have fights here all the time, but those two are scary. I just keep clear of them.”

“Smart girl,” Catherine responded. Dave Curtis was on the opposite side of the crowd. He caught her eye and smiled, but she could do no more than nod in return.

Luke called over to Pam. “How many fights does that make for these two?”

“This is the second in two weeks,” Pam replied, “and they know our rules.”

Luke still looked ready to bite off the girls’ heads, but he waited a long moment for the crowd to hush before he spoke. “You go on in and shower, Frankie, then get out of here. I’m suspending you until Thursday, and if you’re ever in another fight, you’ll be banned from here for good.”

Frankie flung an accusing hand toward Sheila. “She started it!”

“I don’t care who started it. We have a zero tolerance for fights. Now hit the showers. As for you, Sheila, you’ll sit there on the steps and keep Pam company until Frankie leaves. Then you shower and go until Thursday. I don’t see Jamal. Where is he?”

“I ain’t seen him for days,” Sheila replied with an insolent shrug.

“But he’s worth fighting over and losing your privileges here?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, he’s my man,” Sheila insisted. “You keep away from him, you hear me?” she called after Frankie, who ignored her and entered the hall.

“Go on and sit down,” Luke ordered. “The rest of you better scatter before I ask Pam to take your names.”

“She’s already taking names!” the red-haired boy cried.

“Then don’t give her the chance to write yours down twice. Can you handle this, Dave?”

“No problem, boss,” Dave swore. “Come on kids, let’s try out the new soccer field.”

With the excitement over, the teenagers left the courtyard in twos and threes. Max, Nick and Polly went back inside the hall to continue sorting the books, while Catherine waited for Luke by the door. As he approached, she could see his left eye had already begun to swell.

“We ought to put some ice on your eye,” she offered.

Luke paused on the step below hers and their eyes were level. “Now you’re an expert at first aid? I swear our application isn’t long enough to list all your skills. I doubt it will help much, but let’s go on into the kitchen.”

Catherine followed him to the freezer’s double doors, then had to wait while he unlocked one. “I hadn’t thought about working in the kitchen when you brought us here on the tour, but it was fun.”

She turned away to get a bowl from under the counter to hold the ice and then grabbed a clean dish towel from off the stack by the sink. “Mabel has everything so beautifully organized that anyone can walk in and go right to work.”

“I’ll have to remember that if I’m ever left with time on my hands,” Luke replied, his tone teasing.

She waved Luke toward a tall stool next to the kitchen’s long preparation island and filled the small aluminum bowl with ice. She wrapped the towel around several cubes, stepped close and leaned her hip against the island as she held it to his eye.

“You just rest a minute,” she urged. “I feel shaky, and no one was throwing punches at me.”

“I’m not shaken, just disgusted. Did you ever get into a fight over a boy when you were in high school?” he asked.

She adjusted the makeshift ice pack and, thinking it a wonderful excuse to touch him, she smoothed his silvery hair off his forehead. Thick and soft, it slid through her fingers like silk. He didn’t seem to notice, but she was embarrassed to be fondling him and quickly dropped her free hand.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked absently. She could hear the water running in the shower in the restroom located behind the kitchen, but Mabel and the kitchen volunteers had left for the day, and they were quite alone.

“Never mind. It always amazes me when girls fight over some guy who’s not worth a lengthy argument, let alone a fistfight.”

“I imagine when you can carry all you own in a backpack, even a worthless boyfriend takes on immense value. Will you really ban them permanently if they start another fight?”

“We have to have rules here, Catherine, or we’d have chaos. Too many of these kids reject any type of authority, but if they’re ever to fit in anywhere, they have to learn to abide by the rules. Even the fast-food places insist upon shoes and shirts.”

She added another cube to the ice pack, but he was still going to have a colorful black eye. He had very nice eyes with long lashes any woman would envy. That he was so attractive had always been an unwanted distraction, however, and she focused on making her point.

“I understand that, but these are kids who’ve run away, or been thrown away, and it seems cruel to ban them from one of the few places they’re welcome. Besides, it will be impossible for you to teach them any valuable lessons about getting along in the world if they aren’t allowed in the door.”

Luke raised his hand to cover hers. “Look, I’m trying to keep these kids safe and well while they gain their independence, and then we build from there. I have to earn their trust, and being consistent is the only way to do it.”

His hand provided a welcome heat against the icepack’s chill, but she was uncertain whether he was merely attempting to convince her he was right or to thoroughly distract her. She liked the touch of his hand against hers, but in this setting, it was completely inappropriate. Still she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

Then she made the mistake of meeting his gaze, and what she saw was the clear reflection of the desire that deepened his voice whenever he spoke her name. He was no more able to concentrate on their current argument than she, and all she wanted to do was lean in and kiss him long and hard.

“I hate to interrupt such a tender scene,” a striking young woman called from the doorway, “but I need to speak with Luke.”

Although startled, Luke gave Catherine’s hand a light squeeze before he grabbed the now soggy towel and tossed it into the bowl of ice. He shoved himself to his feet and provided polite, if terse, introductions.

“You know the routine, Marsha,” he scolded. “Call my attorney and schedule an appointment.”

“That will cost us both money, and all I need is a minute. You owe me that much.” A petite blonde, Marsha was dressed to absolute perfection in a pale pink suit with a matching handbag and stiletto heels.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing,” Luke shot right back at her.

All curiosity about Luke’s ex-wife satisfied, Catherine moved past her to dump the bowl of ice in the sink. She wrung out the towel and hung it over the side.

“I’m sure you’ll excuse me. I have books to sort.”

Marsha turned to watch Catherine leave. “Nice clothes. I see your type has changed.”

“With good reason. I wish you hadn’t come here, but since you have, let’s go on over to my office.” He walked out and across the courtyard without bothering to look back to see if she was following until he reached the office building and yanked open the door. Unfortunately, she was right behind him.

“Hold my calls, please, Pam.”

“Yes, sir,” Pam responded without looking away from her computer screen.

Once in his office, Luke leaned against the room’s single windowsill rather than take a seat behind his desk. “How much do you need this time?”

“It isn’t always about money,” Marsha denied hotly. She sat on the side of one of the visitor chairs to face him, crossed her legs and adjusted the drape of her skirt. “It’s just that sales have been off at the boutique, and I need a few thousand to tide me over until business improves.”

Luke surveyed the parking lot. That he could ever have been married to this soulless bitch filled him with shame, but that was all. “Your own attorney described your divorce settlement as more than generous. I’m no longer obligated to support you. Ask the bank for a business loan, or tap your partners.”

“After all the years we were together, I shouldn’t have to beg,” Marsha cried with a convincing catch in her voice.

Luke straightened up as Catherine crossed the parking lot with a long, sure stride. She slid into her car, and he waited for her to look his way and wave, but she drove off as though she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He tried to believe it was just as well she was gone, but he was disappointed by the abrupt end to their latest exchange.

His head was beginning to ache, and he was in no mood to deal with Marsha’s tantrums. “You asked for the divorce. Now you’ll have to deal with the consequences of being on your own.”

“My field is fashion, not finance, and don’t you dare try that tough love stuff on me.”

Luke still found it difficult to look at her. “I wasn’t. Take a class on money management, hire an accountant, just don’t depend on me any longer to bail you out.”

Marsha stood and came toward him. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You took this job, which has to pay close to nothing, just to spite me. And look at you! Do you have to let these fugitives from juvenile hall beat you up?”

Luke never explained why he’d taken his job, and he wasn’t even tempted now. He turned away from the window. “I’ll never do anything simply to spite you. Quite frankly, you’re no longer that important to me. Now your minute is up. Good-bye.”

“I’m going to call my attorney, and we’ll just see who has the last word,” Marsha fumed, and she slammed the door on her way out.

Luke had kept his temper, but it was scarcely a source of pride. It was just another day at Lost Angel, and a long afternoon, in which he would have to pull himself together to lead the discussion group, lay ahead.

“I need a strawberry shake,” he told Pam as he passed her desk.

“It’s a shame about your eye. Better make it two,” she advised.

Luke laughed at her suggestion, but he thought if he ran a couple of extra miles that night, he just might slurp down three without swelling up like a balloon. But as he sipped the first a few minutes later, he began to wonder if Catherine Brooks might not also be partial to strawberry shakes. He would have to ask her, if she ever came back.

Chapter Five

Catherine’s doorbell rang at 7:00 p.m., and assuming it must be Joyce stopping by, she swung the door open without bothering to glance through the peephole. Then she had to hide her dismay when she found Luke Starns standing on the front porch holding a drink container.

“Dr. Starns?” Catherine didn’t wish to appear inhospitable, but she was simply astonished to find him there.

Luke dipped his head and appeared truly contrite. “I’m sorry, I know it’s rude to just show up without calling first, but I owe you an apology and thought it ought to be delivered in person.”

He’d changed his clothes since she’d last seen him, but he was still casually dressed in a Madras sport shirt and jeans. If he’d gone to the trouble to look his best, even with a black eye, she strongly suspected there was more on his mind than a plea for forgiveness, but she was far too curious to send him away.