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“I was in the English department at La Cañada High School before I married, and I loved the lively interaction with the students. It was the best part of the job.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure it was, but our teens bear absolutely no resemblance to the pampered college prep crowd living in La Cañada. Once you’ve spent a few minutes with some of our kids with purple Mohawks, nose rings and hideous homemade tattoos, you’ll quickly get over any need to spread your frustrated maternal warmth here.”
Catherine reached out to pluck his nameplate from his desk, then replaced it with a loud thud. “With such an impressive string of degrees, I’d expect you to come up with something less obvious. Have you simply had a bad day, Dr. Starns, or are you deliberately being nasty?”
That show of spirit took Luke by surprise, but it also provided ample evidence that she was used to getting her own way. In his book, it was another strike against her.
“Bad days are the only kind we have here at Lost Angel,” he swore darkly.
“Then why do you stay?” Catherine countered. “Were you homeless yourself at one time, or do you simply enjoy playing the martyr?”
Luke recoiled slightly, then decided Catherine wasn’t nearly as fragile as she looked. He left his chair and circled the desk, prompting Catherine to rise and face him. She stood five feet ten inches tall in her flats, but even barefoot, Luke grazed six feet, and his scuffed loafers added another inch. As he moved near, he surveyed the difference in their heights, but he had no intention of defending his views more forcefully than she would care to see.
Luke watched her raise her chin to maintain a challenging stare and added obstinate to his growing list of complaints. “Mrs. Brooks,” he began, fully intending not to merely throw her out of his office but to forbid her return. Then it occurred to him that he ought not to let her off so easily. Encouraging a woman with her delicate sensibilities to volunteer was almost diabolical, but he just couldn’t resist, and a quick grin erased all trace of hostility from his expression.
“Forgive me if I’ve misjudged your commitment to Lost Angel,” he said. He crossed the room to the door and swung it open wide. “I’ll have Pam add your name to the list for Monday’s training session. Unless, of course, you’ve something else planned for the day?”
“Nothing I can’t postpone,” Catherine assured him on her way out.
When Catherine crossed the parking lot a few minutes later, she was proud of herself for standing up to Luke Starns but badly disappointed her first interview since college had gone so poorly. She’d been completely baffled to find such a caustic individual running Lost Angel and sincerely hoped that after she’d completed whatever training he might provide, they could simply avoid each other.
As she walked toward her Volvo, a plump girl with a long, thick mop of corkscrew curls came toward her. She was dressed in a chartreuse T-shirt and bib overalls. A scruffy marmalade cat with tattered ears peered out of the canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She appeared to be a regular at Lost Angel, and while Catherine unlocked her station wagon, she remained by the door.
“Hi. You got some spare change? My cat’s hungry,” the girl greeted her.
Catherine doubted Lost Angel encouraged panhandling on the premises, but the scrawny cat did look as though he could use a meal. She opened her purse and pulled out a dollar bill. “Von’s has their house brand on special at four cans for a dollar.”
“Great. I’ll stock up,” the girl replied. She tucked the money into her bib pocket and quickly jogged away, forcing her bedraggled pet to endure a wild, bumpy ride.
Catherine slid behind the wheel, and as she turned the key in the ignition, she caught a glimpse of Luke Starns at his window. He shut the blinds before she could wave, but she felt as though he’d caught her cheating on an exam. She could readily imagine the harsh lecture he would deliver on Monday, but she wouldn’t have to listen.
Lost Angel had not turned out to be what she’d expected at all, but her first visit had been oddly exhilarating, and she felt she owed it to herself to give it a second try. After all, a volunteer position wasn’t like a real job, and if she didn’t feel as though she were making a valuable contribution, she could always quit. There was o
nly one problem with that strategy, however: she’d never quit on anything.
Luke Starns took several deep breaths before reviewing Catherine Brooks’ application, but when he discovered that the word widow appeared under marital status, he cursed and laid the form aside. He preferred face-to-face meetings with prospective volunteers to assessing people’s abilities from the dry facts they supplied on the Lost Angel application, but he certainly wished he’d seen Mrs. Brooks’ form before they had met. Until the last moments of their interview, she’d projected such a touching vulnerability that he’d seen no reason to encourage her interest, and when he had, it had merely been for spite.
Now that he knew she’d lost her husband, he wished he’d engaged her in a real conversation and then gently nudged her toward another worthwhile charity. He had seen her fall for Tina Stassy’s plea for money for cat food, and the other kids frequenting Lost Angel would also recognize her as a soft touch. Regardless of how generous her nature might be, however, she couldn’t support them all.
“Nor should she,” he murmured aloud.
Disgusted with himself for not behaving more professionally, he left his office to conduct the afternoon session where he could offer little more than a sympathetic ear and a sandwich to kids who needed far more in the way of structure and assistance than Lost Angel could provide.
As he arranged chairs in the cavernous room that had been the church’s sanctuary, he took little note of the once-sacred surroundings. For him, it was merely a room where the good they did, like the ruby light streaming through the stained glass windows, would vanish with the coming night.
Dave Curtis, the center’s maintenance man, joined Luke in time to set up the last of the chairs. “Sorry, boss. I should have had everything ready, but it took longer to clean out the trap under the kitchen sink than I’d expected and I’d wanted to change my shirt.” He pulled his light brown hair into place with a quick yank on the elastic band holding his ponytail.
“Don’t apologize. There’s more work than any of us can do.” Luke stepped back and shoved his hands into his hip pockets. “From now on, I’ll let the kids arrange the chairs. It’ll give them more of a sense that this is their group rather than mine.”
“Sounds good to me. You want to get a pizza later?”
Luke hesitated a long moment, then shook his head. “No, I need to get out of here. Maybe tomorrow night.”
“Sure, whenever. I’m going to give the sprinklers another try. I need to clean out all the heads before I can judge whether or not the pipes are still good, but I’d sure like to be able to water what’s left of the grass.”
“Yeah, give it a try,” Luke encouraged. He admired Dave’s initiative, and summoning what was left of his own, he welcomed the first of the kids to arrive. It was Tina Stassy, and while it was likely he was having more success reaching her cat, as long as she kept coming back, all three of them had a chance to survive.
Chapter Two
