smiled at her. “It isn’t as if I have a hectic social life. Mostly I work.”
“Same here!” she laughed.
He hesitated, his dark eyes quiet and searching. “You’re an amazing person,” he commented quietly. “Most people would be thinking about themselves in your position, not about helping others.”
“I wasn’t always like this,” she said. “I can remember a time when I was afraid of street people. It makes me a little ashamed.”
“All of us have to learn about the world, Mary,” he said gently. “We’re not born knowing how hard life can be for unfortunate people. For instance, Sam there—” he nodded toward the elderly man “—was a decorated hero in Vietnam. He’s had a bad shake all the way around. His wife left him while he was overseas and took their daughter with her. They were both killed in a car wreck the week after Sam got home from the war. He remarried, and his second wife died of cancer. Now, his retirement’s gone with his thieving nephew, after he worked like a dog to become self-sufficient. The nephew was only related to him by marriage, which makes it even worse.” He shook his head. “Some people get a bad shake all around. And Sam’s a good man.”
“I noticed that,” she said. “He’s proud, too.”
“That’s the problem that keeps so many people out of the very social programs that would help them,” he said philosophically. “Pride. Some people are too proud to even ask for help. Those are the ones who fall into the cracks. People like Sam. He could get assistance, God knows he’d qualify. But he’s too proud to admit that he needs relief.”
She smoothed over a food package. “Is there any way we could help him?”
He grinned. “I’m working on something. Let you know when I have any good ideas, okay?”
She grinned back. “Okay.”
Sam returned with four more big containers of food. “Been talking about me behind my back, I guess?” he asked them.
“We don’t know that many interesting people, Sam,” Matt pointed out.
Sam shrugged, shook his head and went back inside with the packages.
Matt drove the truck, giving Mary a brief rest. It had been an especially long day, because one of her employers wanted to take down and wash and press all the heavy curtains in the house. It had been a backbreaking job, although the house certainly looked better afterward. Bob and Ann had stayed after school for their individual sports programs. The extracurricular activities were important to them and Mary was going to make sure that they had as normal a life as possible, even with all the complications of the moment.
“Where are the kids?” Matt asked, as if he’d sensed her thoughts.
“At sports and band practice,” she said. “I arranged rides for them back to the motel, and the manager’s promised to keep an eye on them.”
“And the youngest?”
She grinned. “My friend, Tammy, is keeping John tonight until we get through. I have to pick him up at her house.”
“I’ll drive you,” Matt offered. “Don’t argue, Mary,” he added gently. “I wouldn’t offer if it was going to be an imposition. Okay?”
Sam glanced at her. “I’d give in, if I were you. He’s the most persistent man I ever met.”
She laughed. “All right, then. Thank you,” she told Matt.
* * *
Their first stop was at the men’s mission. Mary had passed by the building many times in the past, and never paid it much attention. She’d had a vague idea of the sort of people who stayed there, and not a very flattering one.
But now she took time to look, to really look, at them. There were several sitting in the lobby watching a single television. Two were paraplegics. One was blind. Five were elderly. Two were amputees. She could understand without asking a single question why they were here.
“We brought you some food,” Mary told the shelter’s manager, a portly gentleman named Larry who had a beard and long hair.
“This is a treasure trove!”
“Same here!” she laughed.
He hesitated, his dark eyes quiet and searching. “You’re an amazing person,” he commented quietly. “Most people would be thinking about themselves in your position, not about helping others.”
“I wasn’t always like this,” she said. “I can remember a time when I was afraid of street people. It makes me a little ashamed.”
“All of us have to learn about the world, Mary,” he said gently. “We’re not born knowing how hard life can be for unfortunate people. For instance, Sam there—” he nodded toward the elderly man “—was a decorated hero in Vietnam. He’s had a bad shake all the way around. His wife left him while he was overseas and took their daughter with her. They were both killed in a car wreck the week after Sam got home from the war. He remarried, and his second wife died of cancer. Now, his retirement’s gone with his thieving nephew, after he worked like a dog to become self-sufficient. The nephew was only related to him by marriage, which makes it even worse.” He shook his head. “Some people get a bad shake all around. And Sam’s a good man.”
“I noticed that,” she said. “He’s proud, too.”
“That’s the problem that keeps so many people out of the very social programs that would help them,” he said philosophically. “Pride. Some people are too proud to even ask for help. Those are the ones who fall into the cracks. People like Sam. He could get assistance, God knows he’d qualify. But he’s too proud to admit that he needs relief.”
She smoothed over a food package. “Is there any way we could help him?”
He grinned. “I’m working on something. Let you know when I have any good ideas, okay?”
She grinned back. “Okay.”
Sam returned with four more big containers of food. “Been talking about me behind my back, I guess?” he asked them.
“We don’t know that many interesting people, Sam,” Matt pointed out.
Sam shrugged, shook his head and went back inside with the packages.
Matt drove the truck, giving Mary a brief rest. It had been an especially long day, because one of her employers wanted to take down and wash and press all the heavy curtains in the house. It had been a backbreaking job, although the house certainly looked better afterward. Bob and Ann had stayed after school for their individual sports programs. The extracurricular activities were important to them and Mary was going to make sure that they had as normal a life as possible, even with all the complications of the moment.
“Where are the kids?” Matt asked, as if he’d sensed her thoughts.
“At sports and band practice,” she said. “I arranged rides for them back to the motel, and the manager’s promised to keep an eye on them.”
“And the youngest?”
She grinned. “My friend, Tammy, is keeping John tonight until we get through. I have to pick him up at her house.”
“I’ll drive you,” Matt offered. “Don’t argue, Mary,” he added gently. “I wouldn’t offer if it was going to be an imposition. Okay?”
Sam glanced at her. “I’d give in, if I were you. He’s the most persistent man I ever met.”
She laughed. “All right, then. Thank you,” she told Matt.
* * *
Their first stop was at the men’s mission. Mary had passed by the building many times in the past, and never paid it much attention. She’d had a vague idea of the sort of people who stayed there, and not a very flattering one.
But now she took time to look, to really look, at them. There were several sitting in the lobby watching a single television. Two were paraplegics. One was blind. Five were elderly. Two were amputees. She could understand without asking a single question why they were here.
“We brought you some food,” Mary told the shelter’s manager, a portly gentleman named Larry who had a beard and long hair.
“This is a treasure trove!”
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