It was a good thing the elevated commuter train wasn’t crowded on a Sunday morning. Both Kat and Nick took up a double seat across from each other to accommodate the bulky cardboard boxes of lettuce and broccoli.
Brygitta leaned forward from the seat where she and Olivia sat just behind Kat. “I can’t believe you guys are actually going to take those boxes into the church.”
Kat just grinned and waggled her fingers over her shoulder. It was no use trying to convince Brygitta. Her roomie was probably imagining a brick edifice with a pipe organ or something. Once they got there, she’d see that it wasn’t a big deal.
Besides, Kat didn’t really care what Brygitta thought. She felt kind of proud that she’d rescued this produce from oblivion. Hopefully several families were going to eat some fresh food who might not have otherwise.
Metallic brakes squealed as the train pulled into the Loyola station, sitting high above the street below. A young Latino couple with a baby got on and made their way to the back of the car.
“That’s the fourth stop,” Brygitta piped up behind Kat. “How many more till we get to Howard Street?”
Honestly. But humoring her friend, Kat grabbed a pole and swung out of her aisle seat to study the map posted above the windows. “Um . . . three more. It’s the end of the Red Line, anyway. Everybody gets off.” She sat down again as the train jerked forward and turned sideways to talk to her two friends, though Olivia had her nose buried in a textbook. “Have you guys decided what you’re going to do this summer?”
Brygitta groaned. “Oh, Kat, I don’t know. I should just go home when the semester’s over in a few weeks and get a jumpstart looking for a summer job. But I signed up for summer mini-term, thought it’d be a good way to get Christian Ethics out of the way so I can graduate next January, which means all the jobs will be taken by the first of June. Besides . . .” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Can’t really stand the thought of another summer in Detroit. Living at home with Mom, Dad, Grandma, three obnoxious younger brothers . . . need I elaborate?”
Kat laughed. “Nope.”
“At least you’re graduating in a couple weeks . . . Hey, can I come home with you? I’ve never been to Phoenix. What’s the summer job situation like?”
Kat shrugged. “Same as everywhere, I guess. Haven’t had to deal with it. My father always finds something for me to do in his practice, but—”
Olivia’s head jerked up from the book she was reading. “Practice? Is he a lawyer or something?”
“A doctor,” Brygitta hooted. “Cardiologist, right, Kat?”
Kat nodded. Not that she wanted to talk about it. Her father was still upset that she’d dropped premed and transferred to CCU. “I’m signed up for mini-term too. I—”
“Why? I thought you were graduating.” Olivia’s pale blue eyes were uncomprehending.
So I don’t have to go home yet, was on the tip of Kat’s tongue. But she said, “I need more Spanish so I can qualify for my ESL certificate. And I’ve been thinking . . .” Her eyes drifted to the back sides of the apartment buildings they were passing, mesmerized by the crosshatch of back porches with wooden railings and open stairs zigzagging from the top floor to the ground. Had she been thinking? Or was this a bubble of an idea that’d been floating in her subconscious and only now just popped?
“Thinking what?” Brygitta prompted.
“About staying here in Chicago for the summer.” There. Saying it aloud gave strength to the idea. “I mean, if I stay here, I could start looking for a job now, not wait till I get back to Phoenix. And . . . it’d be fun. More time to explore the city. I hear there are lots of ethnic festivals, stuff like that, all summer long.”
Nick leaned out of his seat across the aisle. “Really, Kat? I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m taking a class for mini-term too. But if I stayed in Chicago for the rest of the summer, I could get a head start looking for a church position that would satisfy my practicum and let me graduate in January—”
“Howard Street,” announced the disembodied voice from a speaker. “Howard Street is next. End of the line. Everyone must exit the train. Transfer to the Yellow Line or Purple Line at Howard.”
The train eased to a stop beside the wide platform. Another train going the opposite direction pulled in along the other side. Once again there was a scramble to grab backpacks and purses, as well as the two large boxes Kat and Nick juggled as they squeezed out the sliding doors. Leading the way, Nick headed down the stairs to ground level, through the station, and out onto Howard Street.
“Which way?” Olivia pressed her back against the station wall to avoid the crunch of people exiting the station.
“Just follow us, you goose . . . Watch that bus turning in.” Kat and Nick walked swiftly up the sidewalk along the busy street, Brygitta and Olivia close on their heels. A block later they turned into a large parking lot surrounded by stores, including a large Dominick’s store that anchored the mall at the far end.
“Where’s the church?”
Kat refused to be annoyed by Olivia’s anxious questions. “Right over there. Told you it was in a mall.”
As they crossed the parking lot, they could see the sign painted in lively red letters across the wide expanse of windows:
SOULEDOUT COMMUNITY CHURCH
And beneath in smaller letters, but still large enough to be read from several yards away:
ALL WELCOME
A tickle of excitement quickened Kat’s steps. Cars and minivans were pulling into the parking spaces near the wide storefront, and people of all colors piled out—brown, white, tan—the kids running, parents hollering at them to slow down, teenagers huddling together outside with their iPods. The young Latino couple with the baby Kat had seen on the train also disappeared through the double glass doors.
“Welcome!” boomed a deep voice as they came in. A middle-aged black couple stood just inside the doors, greeting people as they entered. The man held out his hand. “I’m Sherman Meeks, this is my wife, Debra. Your first time at SouledOut?”
Kat couldn’t exactly shake hands while holding the box. “Hi. I—uh, some of us were here once before. Um . . . Mr. Meeks? Is there someplace I can put this box? It’s food. To give away.”
“Food?” The man blinked, as if he didn’t understand the word.
“Oh, honey, our potluck isn’t until next Sunday,” his wife said kindly. “It’s always the second Sunday of the month . . . Oh! Good morning, Edesa. How’s Gracie?” Debra Meeks turned to a pretty black woman breezing in the door, holding the hand of a dark-haired little girl.
“Buenos Dias, Sister Debra! Gracie, give Señora Meeks a hug.”
Spanish-speaking? The woman didn’t look Spanish—
“Told you so,” hissed Brygitta, leaning close to Kat’s ear. “Why don’t you guys just . . . just go dump those boxes somewhere and let’s go in.”
Kat ignored her. She turned back to Mr. Meeks. “Do you have a kitchen here? We could just put these boxes in there for now.”
“Of course, of course.” Mr. Meeks pointed toward a set of double doors on the far side of the room. “Just go through there. You’ll see it on the left.”
“You guys find a seat, save a couple for us, okay?” Kat whispered to Brygitta and Olivia. “We’ll be right back.” She and Nick threaded their way through the knots of people clustered behind the rows of chairs in the large room, through the double doors, and into the small kitchen on the left of the hallway.
Kat stopped. Nick’s box bumped into her.
Someone else was in the kitchen.
The woman turned. She was older, but it was hard to tell her age. Her skin was flawless. Creamy dark chocolate. Not a wrinkle anywhere. Shiny black hair swept up on top of her head into a cluster of twists. Plum lipstick, a touch of color on her cheekbones. A plum-colored suit, very feminine. Gold hoop earrings. She’d been fixing a cup of tea.
“Can I help you?” Her voice was rich. Dignified. Kat was mesmerized.
When Kat didn’t answer, Nick spoke up. “Hi. I’m Nick. This is, uh, Kathryn. We, um, brought these vegetables in case some folks here could use them. Free for the taking.”
The woman took a step or two and peeked into the boxes they were holding. “Vegetables? Where’d they come from?”
Uh-oh. Kat quickly found her voice. “Dominick’s Food Store. They were going to get thrown out, so they, uh, gave them to us.”
The woman lifted an eyebrow. “Were going to get thrown out? Or had already been thrown out?”
Kat glanced at Nick. He was turning red around the ears. She sighed. This lady was no slouch. Might as well be straight up. “I saw them take them out of the display cases to throw away. We grabbed them just minutes after they’d been for sale in the store. I’m sure they’re still good.”
“I see.” The woman studied them a long moment. Kat was suddenly conscious of their jeans and gym shoes, a stark contrast to her careful grooming. “Why bring it here?” the woman asked.
“Oh, well, we were coming to church anyway, and we found this food on our way here, so . . .” Kat didn’t know what else to say.
“Ah.” The woman’s face seemed to relax. “Well, I don’t know what we’re going to do with it. Maybe you can put it out on the coffee table after the service. But . . . just put the boxes on the counter for now. If you came to worship, let’s go worship.”
“Let’s go worship” . . . odd thing to say. But Kat and Nick hurriedly set the boxes down on the metal counter and followed the woman back into the main room. Brygitta waved at them from the next to last row of chairs, and they squeezed into the empty seats beside their friends just as Kat heard the same woman’s voice, louder now, but resonant and full: “Good morning, church! Let’s all stand as we prepare our hearts, our minds, and our bodies to worship our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, this morning!”
Kat’s head snapped up. The woman in the plum suit was standing at the microphone on the low platform at the front. Oh good grief. She’s the worship leader!